Friday morning. Westbrook. Low water, lots of seaweed on the foreshore. The grockles will be complaining. Again. It’s either the seaweed or the seagulls that gets them up in arms. I’m half expecting them to start on about the wetness of the water some day. God help us, the X factor generation. It’s all about celebrating their phuckwittedness and embracing, whole-heartedly, being ignorant.
There’s a tiny, teeny weeny, hintlike touch of chill in the air. It probably wouldn’t actually show up on a thermometer but it’s tangible enough all the same. Enough to put off the less enthusiatic visitors to Westbrook. Good, I’ll be able to get the car off the drive later. It can be very frustrating on same busy days. Parking anarchy and all that milarkey. Memsahib has to have the discs on her beloved Toyota looked at later on today. Our man in Westgate will do the looking. Not Mr Toyota. Toooo, expensive, indeedy, far tooooo expensive to get them involved. There must be something in the air around here (apart from the witless shrieks from the day trippers and the rather more cerebral cries from the gulls) because the Nissan has had to have 4 new discs within 24,000 miles and now the Toyota needs the same but with an even less impressive 18,000 miles on the clock. Tch tch.
Can’t get the old allatsea head around the task at hand today. It’s quite an easy and interesting task too, just lacking the vital spark that gets it all ‘going’. Frustrating but far from unusual, sadly. Must be an age thing? Mid fifties, what would I rather being doing, other than writing a basis for design that is? Well, now you ask, there are are very many things that spring to mind. None of them however, include sitting at a pooter and specifying the SWL of towing pins or anchor-handling drum dimensions.