Shed failure

In the office today. Very very tired. Once again failed to sleep well, which is my own fault for two reasons:

1) Spent much of Sunday sitting on my fat arse instead of getting any exercise.

2) Had cheese for supper. And crackers. And an apple. But mostly lots of cheese.

I had intended to give the enormo-shed in the back garden a coat of wood preserver but it was pissing down with rain for a lot of the morning. By the time it stopped I was outside of a splendid roast chicken Sunday lunch, and frankly couldn't be bothered any more.

Will go to Homebase this week to get a huge vat of green wood stain stuff though. Then if the weather does dry up enough, I can get out there and get painting. No excuses. Unless I can't be arsed.

I have to get it done soon because Kevin the Decorator is due back soon to sort out our downstairs loo, and he'll tell me off if the shed still isn't painted. I promised to get it done after he fixed the roof, a month ago.

Other news: Mr WithaY had to travel bloody miles on Saturday to pick up one of his dive cylinders. Very sadly, the shop in Westbury where he used to go to buy mysteriously expensive but apparently essential diving kit, and get his tanks cleaned and filled, has gone into receivership.

Annoyingly, they had one of his tanks at the time. He got a letter from the adminstrators (Solicitors? Receivers? Whatever) telling him if he wanted it back he had to contact the sub-contractor and go and fetch it. So, he rang them, found out they were on some industrial estate between Exeter and Taunton (look on a map, American readers) and off he went on a jaunt down to the West Country on Saturday.

I elected to stay home and get on with a few domestic chores* as I didn't fancy sitting in the Landrover all the way to nearly Exeter.

And then I watched the BLOODY rugby whilst ironing. Gah. Was a great game though.

Was told a fab story about one of Mr WithaY's colleagues. He was meeting a mate in a layby one evening to go stalking (deer, not celebrities). As he sat in his car waiting, a chap came and tapped on the window.

Colleague (opening window): Yes?

Mysterious layby stranger: You here for some cock?

Colleague: No! Thank you.

MLS: Oh. Ok. (Exit stage left)

Time passes, colleague still waits patiently. MLS returns and taps on the window again.

Colleague: Yes, what?

MLS: Want to give it a try anyway?



*wasting my life on the Internet, emptying the dishwasher, drinking tea, thinking about cleaning the windows