Category: Microposts
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Three curve-y cootlings swimming in their own curve-y wakes.
I noticed a lot of straight lines, and fewer curves on my my morning walk, but these three were my favourites. Although it was so bright I couldn’t actually see them when I took the photo.
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These trees outside our home provide beautiful cover for the ugly industrial warehouse they built shortly after we bought our flat. They make up for the loss of horizon view (in reality a derelict wasteland) making our close cozy and private. They provide shelter from the afternoon sun in summer allowing the kids to play outside freely.
Big kid decided each tree symbolises one of us, according to size. That’s me on the right. My neighbour wants to have me chopped down because I leave a mess on her car when she parks underneath.
Occasionally I like to lie on a blanket in our communal garden and just watch the trees swaying in the wind. During lockdown it was incredibly peaceful and calming watching the trees and the birds - crows, parakeets, pigeons, starlings, magpies, and red kites, geese and egrets flying by overhead.
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A must read.
Israel so-called 'aid' programme for Gaza isn't about feeding the survivors.It's just another phase in its genocide.
New post 👇
Aside from our journey home taking four hours longer than expected, we had an amusing if disconcerting experience once we set off again.
According to our dumb electronic navigator, as we left Peterborough, the closer we got to home the longer it would take us to get there - the estimated journey time somehow kept increasing the further we travelled.
Fortunately, when we got to the Black Cat roundabout, we happened to notice that staying on the A1 would save us 46 minutes. A no brainer. But our stupid satnav said nothing and would gladly have continued sending us up the junction to the A421 and down the M1 on its preferred but needlessly extended drive.
We’re up to our eyeballs in AI, but unsupervised, my toaster is a wannabe arsonist and my satnav can’t tell me the quickest way home.
Had a blowout on the A1 just before Grantham, so took the opportunity to visit Margaret Thatcher’s birthplace while waiting for the tyre to be replaced.
Bertie’s ice cream van shut up shop at six on the dot leaving my little lad, who was next in line, without an ice cream.
