Then there was spending Sunday hip deep in redback spiders. Which can kill ya, bye the bye.
It was kind of a weird Sunday because I was doing the hard labour stuff, then I had to whip on the glad rags and off to the farewell yum cha for a friend who is halfway to Tasmania by now, by my reckoning. they're off to run a B&B there, and good luck to them (only it leaves me on my lonesome, wibble). Then, after aquiring an apple tree and much needed new wellies, it back back to being Indiana Jones, wading through jungle, swinging from trees, hip deep in spiders. Ah well, never dull, eh?
At least I didn't startle a snake, though I made sure I was very crashy going through, just to try and clear the undergrowth. In my defence it's not raggedy weedy, just masses of ferns, lillies, and a whole lot of jungle-y once were indoor plants given as presents to my parents in the 70s that have been allowed to roam free/go feral in the bottom corner beneath the straggly native trees, right where the fence went over in the high winds. I just hope the frogs I annoyed weren't protected. Ssh, don't tell anyone until I get the fence in. Then they can go back to be an undisturbed lil ecosystem in peace, once we get that new fence in (please, the ongoing saga is killing me).
Today I'm back at the branch office, still working on those cursed databases that I've almost got right but that last bit eludes me and, well, I'm a wee bit out of my depth and, well, sigh. It's going to be just like that half-arsed coffin in the Eyptian show at the museum. I'm beginning to know how that guy felt (ya want it quick or ya want it good? Ya can't have both). Anyways, this meant happy shopping again. Got the black skirt I needed for the one that killed itself last night (threw itself off the hook and tore itself to pieces on the way down, I'm still not sure how), and I had lunch by myself where I used to have lunch with Mum, just so I could see the tree and pretend I still had someone to have lunch with me.
It's been a bit of week otherwise. Bit upset last night (but the eejit nearly did take my thumb off just thrusting the saw suddenly into my hand like that, I had every right to tell him not to do that again, in sternest terms), having to pack up and move at work, and pack up and move everyone else, then back home for more hard labour. Beginning to wonder what their last slaves died of. Not to mention the curtains falling down at just the sight of me this morning, and then picking out a top I'd somehow missed seeing was bird splattered all through the drying/ironing/hanging process. Sigh.
Then there was my attempt to cheer myself on Saturday but a stroll along the back lanes, trying to pretend it was a country walk, to one of the local fetes where I ran into the mother of a school friend, a lovely girl who was one of the few who was always decent to me, a vibrant and coltish lass if ever there was one, anyway I learnt she'd suffered three terrible strokes last year. I'm still kinda upset by that, but I have to suck it up. And yet be sympathetic to Himself who is off to the funeral for those friends of his wot got murdered.
It's been a week, and not the sort of week where I can take it on the chin, stiff upper lip it, be a brick, grace under fire, that sort of thing, if you know what I mean. Over tired, overheated and overstretched - why, it must be getting close to Xmas.
Oh, I meant to tell you about the steam train trip the other week but I still haven't got the AV sorted. I may have to post it unedited, if you can forgive me. I just don't have the time to fiddle or finesse.
Actually, it's not too bad here. Just for one last day I got to, as near as dammit, do my old job, at my old desk, the way it used to be, before the mean girls. That's one wish granted.
TV? Just Top Gear repeats, a bit of Bones and Castle. Oh, wait, there was The Champions. Finally got to see some Champions on dvd. First episode had to be the one with Benedict Cumberbatch. I just knew he had to have done one and sure enough there's Donnie, with his voodoo plot to take over the world. What more could a girl want? Bonus mid-sixties hotel tiki bar and zombies in capes. Ah, ITC crack, I can never get enough. I wish there was a club for fellow ITC whores like me, and not a po-faced one, either. Are you an ITC fan? Answer this simple question: You're driving very fast in a white jaguar - where do you think is your most likely destination?
I wonder if there could ever be ITC: The Next Generation, starring Keifer Sutherland, Jack Davenport, Benedict Cumberbatch, Sam Troughton, Sean Pertwee...(feel free to nominate others I might have forgotten). They'll need a white jag. And a tiki bar. And a casino. And...
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