Why do the yellow-jackets love the Angelica so much. There they are; still out there, all over it, collecting, not stinging. Nothing else in the gardens draws them. It’s the same in the garden centre.
Good cycle ride: getting home was hard work but I put that down to a poor evening meal the night before.
Good night out: I think I hate weddings more than I hate Christmas.tModern British weddings seem to be orchestrated for the wedding photographer and everything revolves around him. Call me old fashioned, but this feels wrong to me. The whole occasion is turned into a decadent consumerist event. The average British wedding costs as much as a new car, or the deposit on a first time buyer’s house.
Best thing about it was wandering the grounds and appreciating the bats’ efforts to catch moths. The worst thing was, by far, the DJ.
Tinkering with Adobe Premier and uploaded the results to YouTube.
Took a sleeping bag back yesterday that wasn’t the size I asked for. The woman in the shop was quite curt about it, she said “it’s a standard size”, (they come in 3 sizes) but doing this, she was also talking on the phone, how rude. Anyway, it was soon clear why she was in a bad mood. She was dealing with a letter of complaint sent by a woman who’d tripped outside the shop. Enclosed with her letter was a bag of dog-poop. I wonder whether that’s a crime, perhaps assault? She said that the police explained that it’s a “civil matter”.
I got my money back.
I know that when you’re annoyed with someone, the thought of sending a bag of squit has a greater appeal. But to actually carry out the thought is mad. Sad to have to simmer and suffer with that kind of resentment, normally, it just evaporates.