There's stuff I don't get...
...including hairdriers. I'm easily
bored. Morning routine bores me senseless. Of the three esses, you
can only read while undertaking one. It pays to watch what you're
doing with the razor, and Amazon have yet to come up with a
shower-proof Kindle. Washing hair is achieved with whatever comes to
hand (usually soap, sometimes shower gel). A wipe with the towel.
Done. Don't even own a comb. I could not be fussed with having to
blow hot air over the stuff for (what would seem like) hours.
There's more:
Clearing snow and ice off the drive
when it'll melt in due course.
Sweeping up leaves even as the wind
blows more leaves on the bit you just swept.
Trainspotting / planespotting /
spotting in general.
Having parked 85% ok, spending time
to-ing and fro-ing to get it up to 87.5%.
Cars. CD? Air-con? Enough, already.
“What's in this?” It's a
restaurant. They'll not be serving anything too deadly poisonous. Bad
for publicity. Eat it, there's a dear. Try to act like a grown-up.
The faff that is milk and sugar in
drinks (tea and coffee) that are better without either.
(100% with MM on this one): porridge.
Wallpaper paste. Without the adhesion and a worse taste.
Predictive text. Designed by the same
dyslexic Russian Ouija boards conjure up if no-one's cheating.
Dungeness
We went to
Dungeness today. I love it there. The abandoned boats, waste iron
artefacts, go-nowhere rails. The views over the shingle to the sea.
The small dwellings standing strong against the elements. There's
Derek Jarman's Prospect Cottage with the Donne lines on the flank
wall. There's lighthouses. There's any number of species unique to
the area. There's a strong feeling of a fierce new-age independence.
There's no fences.
The power
station looks over all this, but we saw no two-headed gulls.
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