I had a connection problem tonight and have now failed in my target of writing a post a day. I could have avoided failure by writing more in advance and, knowing that today might be tricky, I could have posted at breakfast time. I’m turning into a real Bohemian, in my later years.
Ah well, I’ll just have to write a few extras over the next few days and bring the average up. No point in crying over spilt milk.
Julia has decided, talking of Bohemians, that I need to go to a barber as I keep putting off the big haircut. Secretly I was thinking that if I could make it to October I’d get away with it for another year.
In retaliation, I’ve returned to referring to her as “my first wife”. These are the opening shots in the war to decide whether a man has sovereignty over his facial hair. I fear it may be resolved along the lines that men can do what they like but husbands have to toe the line.
I checked my tyres earlier this evening as the MOT is coming up. One is teetering on the edge of legality and I am going to try to get a replacement fitted in the morning. I have chosen those words carefully, to indicate a caring car owner who pays scrupulous attention to detail. If you are going to write such things you need to ensure they aren’t read back to you in court.