Witterings

........Engrossed in Stephen King's 11.22.63.
Could 'see' Al's catburger joint and 'feel' Jake's apprehension as he literally steps back in time...

Can't wait to go again....

........Won't be kitchenside much today, neither myself or mum wanting much. Probably graze like a couple of old cows.

........Talking of the kitchen...As I bleached my way around at early a.m. I wondered about the X Factor and when it'll be mucking out on a TV near you...It's tosh but....When I'm ancient I'll remember summer Saturdays when Mr H and and Monty and me good self clung uproariously to Cowell's every put down and then as we munched on pork balls....soppily chose our favourites.

.......Several people have remarked about the seven pink lanky roses growing by the front door. They, that's the roses, won't live long but, if they have any sort of brain system it must be wonderful knowing that they're making such an impact on the walking beasts.

........There's an ant on the desk, and it's darting in and out of the keyboard and round and around unpaid bills, empty cat treat bags and a pink scarf I've never worn. I'll let it run amok on account of being empathetic, can imagine the distress it might feel being alone in an alien landscape.

..............I feel like doing a bit o' baking the weekend. I'm leaning towards Yeast.

Now I fly
:)