|Who's your dreamy doctor?|
Hide the kitchen knives! :-)
I have also been out photographing the fly-tipped rubbish in my neighbour's garden again - a washing machine, two sofas, a TV and the remnants of a sofa bed and coffee table. I was so blisteringly angry, I uploaded the photos to Facebook and erm, posted an e-mail to our local paper and they have agreed to do an article on fly-tipping on the island.
My immediate flush of relief that someone was going to help me with this ongoing problem immediately withered into concern that my neighbour (on whose ground the stuff has been dumped) might think I'm having a pop at him. Which I'm not. Not at all. Why should HE (or WE) pay for all this crap to get uplifted by the Council when someone else has shucked off their responsibilities by dumping it?
Yesterday when I was photographing everything that had been dumped, two boys were battering the living daylights out of the washing machine with a big branch. The kids were very pleasant, it has to be said, but they were still bent on getting into the workings of the washing machine - which could have been dangerous (I have NO idea what's in a washing machine). Anyway, I went back inside to upload the photos.
Ten minutes later, the banging took on a new tone - one of over-excited we've-nearly-done-it-now-just-a-little-bit-harder....... I hate the sound of things being broken. It makes me really anxious and eventually when I could stand it no longer, I decided to ask them to stop. I looked over the wall. Guess who was battering into the washing machine with gusto? Sonshine.
'For God's sakes, Sonshine, what the HELL are you doing?' I gasped.
He pointed at the washing machine 'we're trying to see how it works. We'll tidy up afterwards, honestly.'
How you tidy up fly-tipping, I don't know, but I decided that working in the back garden was not going to be relaxing, so I set about raking the living daylights out of the moss out of the front lawn. Two blisters and a can of cider later....you would not have known I'd done ANYTHING to the grass.
So what else can I update you on? Tartarus goes away tomorrow and I head off to Glasgow to go to a gig. Yes, a GIG. Paul Rogers. With B and C and some other people that I haven't seen since 1983. God, will we have changed much? Will we still have things in common? Will my gallstones protest at the whole Going Out With Friends experience?