It doesn’t pay to wish for things beyond our control, does it? A couple of hours after I had a rant about the weather yesterday, and requested ‘balmy’, the weather went absolutely barmy for all of two minutes.
A gust from nowhere tore over my rear fence, knocked over a huge terracotta pot, in which I grow runner beans (don't knock it till you've tried it), and flattened a whole row of dahlias. The pot shattered down one side and the Bishops of Llandaff (as the dahlias are called) looked to have met their maker.
After much cussing, half a roll of gaffer mended the pot, and a gaffer called Napper raised the Bishops from the dead.
An hour later I was back at work in front of my computer. I had a load of stuff to print, and the printer ran out of ink. I had an important call to make and couldn’t find the number anywhere. So I made a cup of tea, and knocked it all over my keyboard.
The next sentence I wrote was something like: Fuc-n-coc-*rse,sh**-bllks!
And that was with Earl Grey. Good job it wasn’t Assam.
Today can only get better. Can’t it?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment