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    We had a lovely, if knackering, day out yesterday. I managed not to get burnt on account of remembering that I need factor 50 if I am to survive.

    HWMBO and I have to do our Day 8 tests today (or risk a fine!) even though we were cleared on Day 5. Ho hum.

    Then we have one of those rib boat rides up the Thames this afternoon. Good day for it as it's going to be a bit warm.

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      First they came for the electric blanket.

      Then they came for the duvet.

      Last night they came for the top sheet.

      And it was still too fecking hot.

      Morning.

      Dry.

      CBS.

      Sunny.

      Hot at 23.6 deg in here (though I left the light on overnight for some reason).

      1021 mBar, 30.15 in Hg, 71% RH.

      Sunday.

      R4 is currently silent since Paddy had become a mouthy pain in the arse with overtones of interrogators past.

      Sunday shopping trip to Tesco & Morrisons done, dusted, washed, dried, sanitised, and put away.

      Beef aroasting in the oven.

      Now 24.5 deg in here.

      Almost time for the 2nd shower of the day.

      I now feel unutterably fecked.

      I wonder why.

      Also the wireless is silent since that ISIHAC crap is on.

      I really do dislike that programme.

      Meanwhile Linda Snell is on R3 apparently.

      I'm in two minds over which is worse.

      I realised recently that I detest Bozo even more than I detest Bliar.

      This is disturbing in A Great Disturbance of The Force sort of way.

      Anyone spotted the Death Star recently?

      Lunch: roast beef (very quickly roasted), nice enough, just to keep things on an even keel managed to overcook the greens, a yog, 0.91 pints of good Glengettie tea.

      Strewth it's warm: 25.2 in here, it's 28.something upstairs.

      Since I'm not going out this afternoon, I wonder if there's anything on the box.

      There wasn't.

      Freecell score: 89%, running average 84% (84.054%).

      Tea: Ginsters vegan Moroccan pasty, Heinz tomato soup with a hint of chilli plus some Morrisons wholemeal sunflower & spelt bread (assuming a lack of blueness in this last), a yog, 0.91 pints of good Glengettie tea.

      At 18:21 it's 26.4 deg in here. Stone me.

      Entertainment: fecknose: assorted crap off the 130 channels of crap on freesat.

      "World's most unexplained" on CBS Reality all about spontaneous human combustion, and then ghosts in Amersham.

      "Written in blood" on same, about some poor girl who was murdered in Leeds.

      "Searching for Secrets: Paris" on Smithsonian, or at least the bit I missed.

      The Repair Shop on Quest.

      At least it's cooled down a bit, only 25.6 deg at 22:00.
      Last edited by DoctorStrangelove; 18 July 2021, 21:01.
      When the fun stops, STOP.

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        First they came for the electric blanket.

        Then they came for the duvet.

        Last night they came for the top sheet.

        And it was still too fecking hot.
        Rub yerself over with a cheese grater.
        bloggoth

        If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
        John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

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          Yet another nagging call from NHS T&T. Except they didn't speak to me. I could hear whoever it was clacking about but they didn't think it worth saying anything.

          I think I may make a complaint.

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            Yet another nagging call from NHS T&T
            Damn it. Think my cursor was within 2m of your avatar.
            bloggoth

            If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
            John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

            Comment


              HWMBO has taken the kids out to some book shop or other over Leicester Square way and for other shopping things. I have elected to stay behind and wrestle my flat into some sense of order.

              I also need to pot out a couple of chilli plants my parents gave me weeks ago. They were given them by my godmother after she was given them by a neighbour. None of them eat chillis so I took the plants off their hands.

              UPDATE: Chillis planted out. Plants rearranged on my little patio as the bamboo has really shot up this year and is taking over.
              Last edited by ladymuck; 18 July 2021, 11:40.

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                Some stuff on Twitter inspired me to dig out my secondhand copy of an obscure 1937 novel. It's inscribed on the flyleaf by a previous owner, probably the first: Montgomery Tully. Turns out he - or someone of the same name - was a film director: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montgomery_Tully

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                  I mean, it's almost certainly him. I know things were different in the 1930s, but I doubt they were so different that Montgomery Tully was a common name, borne by every Tom, Dick and Harry

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                    Mundane laundry done. Might as well use this intolerable heat to dry stuff

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                      Light lunch of a toasted teacake slathered with butter

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