More from a busy week....

Yesterday (when not dealing with black bricks) I went Edinburgh. On the journey I noticed my washer bottle was in need of replenishing.

At the first opportunity I went into a garage and paid a fiver for a large container of screen wash.

"Where is the water tap?" I asked.

"We don't have one."

I tried another garage a few miles further on. They had no tap either. Suspecting a new post-brexit water tap shortage I formulated a new plan. Into Morrisons and out again toting a huge great bottle of water.

Back at the car I decided to read the instructions to make sure I had the concentration level correct for the - 5 C temperature and read the following,

"Ready to use, no need to dilute." 

Black Brick

Last night at 2.00 a.m. I woke up with a feeling in the pit of my stomach...I had forgotten something. What I had forgotten was now a black brick, a smoking black brick. It wasn't meant to be, it was meant to be a loaf of bread. As I have found out before, when a loaf of bread is overbaked by 5 hours 30 mins it will turn into a black brick.

How did this happen? I was distracted by a programme on television when I had just popped the would-be loaf in the Aga. As a result I completely forgot about it until....

What was the programme that had me so engrossed?

Masterchef.

Chicken Feed

The last post I put up referred to "chicken feed". This may or may not mean something or anything to readers depending on their chicken experiences. For the sake of clarity here is what constitutes chicken feed for the Blogs' chicken...

• Layers pellets
• Corn mix
• Bread
• Rice
• Various fruits
• Jaffa cakes
• Bourbon biscuits
• Abernethy biscuits
• Chocolate chip cookies
• Fairy cakes
• Butterfly cakes

We have a chicken fast heading towards type 2 diabetes running around the garden like a crack addict.

Hissy fit

Am I the only one in this world who is picked on by inanimate objects?

I wouldn't be posting this but in a moment of weakness I promised Mrs Blog that I would. She spotted that the garage was in a little bit of disarray last week. Wondering what could have caused this, she asked me if I knew anything about it.

"Yes," said I, "I was in the garage a couple of days ago trying to get to the leaf blower."

It was leaning on a wall, in front of which, was the garden furniture (safely tucked away after summer). On one of the garden chairs was a heavy sack of chicken feed. Two other garden chairs were expertly balanced one on top of the other. In front of this Tracey Emin-esque work of art was a rake and a box full of black, garden rubbish bags ready to be re-used from last year.

I pulled out one of the garden bags, knowing it would be needed when I started using the leaf blower. Out came three, one of which was full of soggy rotten leaves that managed to fly all over me. I gave up and tackled the furniture picking up the bag of chicken feed. It had a hole in one corner, a bloody big hole, out of which poured a couple of kilos of the stuff. I set it down and went to move the chairs. One of them decided to fall on top of me without warning.

I took my revenge by kicking it and hurting my toe.

Election marketing

If like me, you have had an inbox full of updates about the impact of the Trump election result, you might like this...

Ryanair sent an email advertising a stack of deals, one of which was....

"Comb over to Europe"