The Blog of Zakspade
|November 2017 Archive|
Miniature Attack Dog?
Thursday 30 November, 2017
Something I won’t tolerate is any of my dogs barking in
the garden. It isn’t ever going to happen - that is my position and
consequently the dogs ‘know’ my frame of mind and attitude towards the
matter: so they don’t bark in the garden. They consider it a ‘safe
place’ which belongs to them and nothing there is a threat because their
‘pack leader’ is always there for them.
And so the puppy went out into the garden yesterday evening with the intention of attending to ‘business,’ knowing he was safe, with the garden light on and me at his back. All was well until a dog started barking in a garden some way off.
It was not just barking; it sounded like a dog that had been cornered by a giant rat. Aggression came through very clearly and I reckoned I was pleased not to be near that particular dog at that time because it was clearly angry at something and fortunately it was not me.
I tilted my head as I tried to get a fix on from where the sound of potential violence was coming because it struck me that an intruder might be the cause, but the acoustics were such that I was unable to even determine the direction let alone the distance.
My attempt was brought to an abrupt end as a little white object crashed into my legs as it rushed into the house in full flight from the sound.
He might only be a puppy at the moment but he has the makings of a fine watch dog - not!
The Youth of Today 2
Wednesday 29 November, 2017
Walking into town I watched a car pull up behind a van
parked on an otherwise empty residential street. The occupants, a man
and a woman looking to be in their late 50s, got out, locked the car,
then head up the footpath to a house s few doors away.
They had left their car parked over a driveway and directly opposite another; managing to block both with just the one car which they had parked about a metre from the drop kerb.
Upon my walk back home after my visit to the post office to send various objects destined to exotic places (Bradford, Norwich and Birmingham), I saw that the car was still there.
Gosh, the young of today can be so ignorant!
Tuesday 28 November, 2017
<silence for 10 seconds>
‘Can I speak to the owner of the business?’
‘I'm calling you about an offer regarding your energy supply. What sort of meter do you have?’
‘One that goes around and around.’
‘No, I'm sorry, what sort of supply do you have? Is it a combined rate?’
‘Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you asked me what sort of meter I had.’
‘Yes, is it combined?’
‘I don't know what make it is, but I do know that it goes around and around. It's a little silver disc. I watch it for hours, sometimes.’
<I chuckle quietly to myself>
After a pause, he hung up. Obviously I never chuckled quietly enough...
Monday 27 November, 2017
The countless millions who read my Blog will have noticed
that I didn’t write an entry yesterday. The omission was accompanied by
a curious breakdown suffered by my email provider leading to hundreds of
thousands of messages going missing; all asking about my welfare and
what was up.
A need to catch up on some much-needed sleep led to a late start to the day. From there, the day sort of got away from me.
Nothing too exciting happened. The airliner landing in my garden, the elephant rampaging through the town, and the lions escaping from the nearby zoo were all dealt with quickly and efficiently. They barely made it into the news. In fact they never made it into the news at all. That is most probably the greatest thing about yesterday to report: The Great Cover-up.
No, in reality it was very remiss of me to miss the missed events of yesterday. The wine the night before had nothing to do with things.
Saturday 25 November, 2017
On my walk into town yesterday I pass a local
supermarket. Their service road is split into two sections: the part
nearest the main road serves an entrance to car park to a flats complex
and it therefore the responsibility of the local authorities; after that
it continues to their goods in yard.
For years the double yellow lines have been ignored by ignorant and lazy car drivers. The argument that there is nowhere else to park is one that has been made over and over and I understand it, but it does not mean parking so as to impede emergency vehicle access to a heavily populated area just because someone wants to save themselves a five minute walk.
The lines have been repainted and I am supposing that the council have decided to enforce the no parking rules on that stretch of road because there were no cars along it blocking the cycle lane or parked across the dropped kerbs for baby buggies etc.
However, a number of ‘regulars’ remain but instead of risking a ticket, they have moved up the road and are now parking on the supermarket service road proper.
I pity the HGV delivery lorries trying to make their way past.
Friday 24 November, 2017
Early in the week I sent a friend an email that, in
effect, was a mini Facebook manual. It contained general help and
directions so as to get them started with their new toy.
Among the tips and explanations was a list of the icons, along with their meanings.
My experience is that Facebook introduce changes to their interface over the weekends, so I figured that the guide I had put together would be okay until at least today. By then I anticipated that the Facebook newbie would have found their feet and would manage tweaks wrought by Facebook from time-to-time upon their interface, without help from me.
They altered the Notifications icon hours after I sent that email earlier this week. It hasn’t been rolled out to everyone, yet, but guess who did get the new icon? And who do you think emailed with an urgent plea for help when a strange, unknown icon with a number on a red background appeared at the top of their Timeline?
I suppose I had better not bank on the weekends any longer.
Thursday 23 November, 2017
Something to cherish.
I suppose it depends on how you are looking at things.
Well, that’s the brain muscle exercise over. It will probably be a bit wheezy for the day, but the virtual toe-touching has been done.
Wednesday 22 November, 2017
We do it every day, over and over: it is only under
exceptional circumstances that we don’t.
Having done it in the morning, some of us do it again mid-morning. However, the majority wait until the middle of the day, or a little later. Then comes the evening when many engage in what might be the greatest example of it.
The priorities are something argued over by people from different parts of the country; along with the term used to describe the activity at any given part of the day. Regardless of label, what is certain is that many of the population indulge.
Then there are those who work shifts and find themselves awake throughout the night when the majority of the rest of us are asleep. They will repeat what others do, but at different times throughout the night.
No matter what it is called, or its precise timing, what is for sure is that if too much of it takes place our health can suffer.
Repeatedly overeating generally leads to a gain in weight.
Tuesday 21 November, 2017
I have considered monetising my Blog.
It would be nice to receive money for giving my time to write it. Therefore I figured that running ads such as [your location] mum reveals how she became a millionaire, The 10 Most [whatever] You Shouldn’t Even Try, and The video the rich want to have banned, along the bottom would be a good idea.
In addition I could have pop-ups offering you things that would go a long way to enhancing your quality of life.
And as you leave the website having read what you wanted, I could hog your browser with a banner screaming, Wait, perhaps you would like to see [something you really don’t want to see].
Yes, not only could I drive you to despair through words, it would be possible for the behaviour of my website to create within you, suicidal thoughts.
Or I could do something better like appear on The Jeremy Kyle Show and scream expletives at a fat woman while a man with tattoos on his face threatens to punch my lights out?
While the money sounds nice, the fame sounds better.
Monday 20 November, 2017
Six in the same sentence, with five of them in a row: I
wonder if anyone can do better?
In the company name, Smith and Sons, the spaces between Smith and and, and and and Sons are equal.
A Simple Explanation
Sunday 19 November, 2017
Why are you carrying that?
It is useful to carry my things.
Provisions, a change of clothes, stuff.
Okay, but in that colour?
The colour is not an issue for me. As long as the suitcase serves its function with distinction, then its colour is irrelevant.
But what will others say when they see you walking down the street with it?
They will say I am a dog with brains.
Brains? Not style?
Style? Who would look at a dog and claim he is stylish? Are you mad?
Then the alarm went off.
Dream interpretation says that dreaming about dogs is good unless they are attacking you. For the life of me, I cannot find anything on what it means when you are in a two-way conversation with one.
And carrying a suitcase? Ideas, anyone?
Saturday 18 November, 2017
The time in the year when all the shops close for four
weeks is approaching.
Not true? Well tell that to the shoppers.
I needed to buy some petrol so as to allow me to collect someone tomorrow. I decided to include a trip to Dunelm Mills, Dunstable to collect an order of multiple items reserved the evening previously.
It took me one hour and 40 minutes to travel 12 miles.
To be fair, it might not have just been headless chickens choking the roads as they panicked at the thought of Christmas. No, Luton FC was playing at home and I fear that the timing of my visit into Dunstable coincided with traffic heading to Kenilworth Road.
I approached the Dunelm Mills Reservation Point armed with the reference number and a trolley to take the goods back to the car once I had made payment. The nice lady checked the items from the till only to discover that the order was only part-fulfilled despite my having received confirmation, via email the night before, that the FULL order was ready for collection.
‘If you haven’t got the whole order, consider it cancelled.’ I said before turning and walking out.
I had to get out of the store as quickly as possible because if I had not then there was a serious danger that I was going to feature in a local news item: I was more than furious, but still able to realise it wasn’t the fault of the woman who was processing the order at the till. I might have been seething and about to explode, but that was no reason to tear her head off.
That said, if a member of Dunelm Mills management - either at the store, or responsible for the Dunelm Mills online reservation system - had been within reach right at that moment, I’d have ended up on remand pending trial for murder, but at least free of pointless sitting in stationary lines of traffic.
On the bright side: it only took me 40 minutes to drive the eight miles home.
The Last Post
Friday 17 November, 2017
I visited the local sub post office to send a parcel and
saw that the opening times for the counter over Christmas were on
Apparently I can mail a letter or Christmas card until late Christmas Eve on Sunday. I'm not sure when such stuff will get to the intended recipient, or enter the postal service system, but at least it gives those of us who have thought ahead and done their Christmas shopping, somewhere to go.
Thursday 16 November, 2017
After nine year’s service, my trusty Lexmark laser
printer finally became ill. Everything it printed came out patchy and
faded down one side.
This was not the usual indication that the toner was low. No, this appeared to be something else; possibly a part that would require the spending of lots of money in order to return it to rude health.
Having recently secured a colour laser printer, it was looking rather as if getting it back to a proper working condition was only going to be so as to sell it on. As its likely second hand value was likely to be only £20 or £30, there seemed little point in spending out on new parts, but the hardware nut within me wanted to know whether I had correctly diagnosed the fault.
After a great deal of shopping around I managed to secure a replacement drum unit for less than £20. Not bad considering that the OEM Lexmark part was a great deal more expensive. Okay, so it was refurbished, but all I wished to do was see if I was correct and recoup my money by selling a now working printer.
The part arrived and I fitted it. Hurrah, I was correct as the dear little thing again produced an even output. However, it also contained dark spots down the other side.
Further testing revealed that a roller forming part of the replacement unit was ever so slightly damaged and that it was effectively junk.
I obtained a refund and the supplier told me to bin the part rather than return it - so I kept it intending to see whether I could refurbish it myself when I had the necessary free time.
And so the printer sat unused on the floor of my study for the whole of 2017 to now.
Last night I finally managed to find the time to investigate properly. It turned out to be impossible to rectify the problem without spending money on yet another replacement drum unit, but they were not coming in under £30. Having already determined that I had correctly surmised what the cause of the problem was, I opted not to bother spending money to prove what I already knew, and so I trashed the printer.
I’m told that holding onto non-functioning stuff in anticipation of it being one day fixed is a Man Thing. If so, I’m feeling particularly manly...
I’m a Doctor, Not a Bricklayer!
Wednesday 15 November, 2017
I am currently making my way through the entire three
seasons of the original Star Trek. It is very sad, I know, but it is
something I need to do given that the alternative is for me to buy a
sports car and wear clothing inappropriate for my age.
Without attempting to justify anything, all I will say is that I find the stories enthralling. That’s me - take it or leave it.
Oh, you’ve left...
Back to Star Trek, which I do not watch it while wearing my favourite anorak. No, I keep that for my forays onto the railway platform at my local railway mecca.
No matter how greatly I am entertained by the series, I cannot ignore the awful production. The acting is sort of okay, but the direction is incredibly poor. The standard of set lighting is such that watching episodes ought to be compulsory for those training to become lighting engineers so that it can be seen how it is not to be done. Camera management seems to be under the control of a nursery school child, while appearances of sound booms and moving shadows made either by film crew or equipment seem to be a regular part of the shows.
The episode when white polystyrene is chipped off a ‘rock’ by a giant spear is thrown at retreating members of the Away Team is one of my favourite cringe-moments.
The fact that I watched Star Trek ‘first time out’ might have a lot to do with things. I barely raised an eyebrow when Dr McCoy came out with the line that forms the title of this Blog entry: which brings me to something that puzzles me.
Over the years I always thought the single raised eyebrow was a Mr Spock thing. When watching the whole thing over again, I note that while he does indeed indulge a little, the real exponent is Dr. Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy who seems to arch just the one almost each and every time he queries the lack of humanity emanating from Mr Spock. To this day Mr Spock is credited with the feat but watching the episodes reveals that he is but an imitation of the true king.
That ought to provoke some response, so in my defence I say: I’m a banana, not a writer!
Christmas is Here!
Tuesday 14 November, 2017
There is a huge shopping centre located in a nearby town
and they opened their Santa Grotto a couple of days before Remembrance
It is possible - but unlikely - that they confused the red poppy with the colour of Santa’s coat. Or maybe they wished to promote Coca-Cola?
Ah, that old chestnut.
While the artist who drew their ads for 30 years from 1931, Haddon Sundblom, did much by way of cementing the image of Santa as we know him today, Coca-Cola claims that for inspiration, Sundblom turned to Clement Clark Moore's 1822 poem, A Visit From St. Nicholas, (usually called, Twas the Night Before Christmas). Although the colour worn was not mentioned in the poem, Santa, or Saint Nicholas, appeared in various guises over the years; one form being predominantly red, and so they were married.
The poem was adapted into a short silent movie in 1905. Santa was depicted as the character we all know these days. The film was black and white, but publicity for the Edison Manufacturing Company feature showed him attired in red.
Whatever the reason for his appearance, Christmas appears to be here.
Monday 13 November, 2017
It was cold, but dry and sunny during my walk into and
back from town yesterday. As is befitting a Sunday, it was very quiet
and peaceful, except for the sound of lawnmowers.
I encountered half-a-dozen of the things as their owners made the very last cut of the year and I would have been doing the same thing were it not for the fact that I do not own one.
You live in a flat without a garden.
No, it’s a house, with a garden.
A garden paved over?
No, a garden that is green except for the part that is a patio.
An overgrown and unkempt garden?
No, a garden as tidy as one could wish.
Plastic grass is cool and destined to put lawnmower manufacturers out of business...
Sunday 12 November, 2017
Today is Remembrance Sunday. It is observed in the
UK and the Commonwealth as a day to commemorate the contribution of
British and Commonwealth servicemen and women in the two World Wars and
later conflicts and is held on the second Sunday in November each year.
It is the Sunday nearest to 11 November, Armistice Day, the
anniversary of the end of hostilities in the First World War at 11
o’clock in the morning, 1918.
It is a little-known fact that yesterday, in conjunction with being Armistice Day, is also known as Knobheads Day, if the multiple firework parties nearby scaring the life out of my dogs were anything to go by.
Saturday 11 November, 2017
Many moons ago, I rigged up a barrier that could be
clipped across the doorway between the kitchen and the conservatory. Its
purpose was to deny the dogs access while at the same time keeping the
door open to allow free circulation of air. Buying a stair gate would
have been easier but for the fact that the opening in question is
variable-width due to it being a sliding door.
What I fashioned left me feeling all smug - punches air triumphantly.
However it was a bit fiddly to put in place - looks about furtively to see if anyone saw the air punch.
As the dogs got used to it, they never attempted circumvention. Therefore, human nature decreed that instead of it being fastened into place it would instead be leant up so as to bar the opening when it was partly closed to a suitable size.
It was a good solution until the weather turned colder. That was the time when our cat started to come into the house for warmth in addition to his food.
Up until then the barrier was used to separate the feeding cat from the dogs. He could eat in peace suffering nothing worse than being watched intently by big brown eyes.
One day, while my beagle was asleep in the kitchen, the cat decided to leap over the barrier and make his way deeper into the house. Unfortunately, by now I had taken to propping it up across the opening at all times and securing it in place overnight only. The result was that it came crashing down, resulting in a cat skidding into the living room with a wildly startled just-awake-eating-machine close behind.
Since then, any unknown or sudden sounds result in the beagle rushing out of the kitchen as if someone has whacked him with a huge stick. This includes rattling his food bowl - which, when it comes to feeding time is a little awkward...
Friday 10 November, 2017
The car sat on the zigzag lines outside the school
reception was blocking the parking bays opposite and obstructing other
cars trying to get out of the car park. The driver had not dumped it and
walked off - no, he was sat inside ignoring other vehicles and the
schoolchildren milling about the place.
Given that in order to use the Public Highway a vehicle needs to display an index plate that carries a unique identifying code (the number plate), it appeared to suggest either arrogance, stupidity or extreme naivety on the part of the driver.
However, this was no ordinary car. Along the side it carried two signs - one read: ‘01525 850605 Prestige Cars Leighton Buzzard’ and the smaller below it carried its local authority licence number of ‘1177.’
A quick call to the number would surely be better than knocking on the driver’s window and asking him to move so that I could vacate the car park, surely? I was not prepared for the response that came back in a challenging tone: ‘Where else is he supposed to park?’ and the taxi remained rooted to its spot, continuing in its role of ‘obstruction device.’
After about 20 minutes the taxi drove off without picking up a fare. Upon reaching home I looked up the phone number to confirm I had not just witnessed a paedophile using something other than the puppy ruse or the sweeties trick. I found it was indeed a genuine taxi number and that the person who had dismissed me was real.
However, it came up against the taxi cab firm of Dialacar Taxis and not Prestige Cars and I began to wish I had made a note of the car’s registration number to pass to the police. A little more digging revealed that a company called Prestige Cars also operate out of the same address using the same number, so no need to panic.
The idiocy displayed by the driver was one thing; the stance taken by the person on the other end of that number was something on another level. I figure I shan’t be ringing 01525 850605 and asking for a vehicle from Dialacar Taxis and or Prestige Cars anytime soon.
Thursday 9 November, 2017
Recently I had cause to establish the date of the
Christmas light switch on in a UK town for a piece I was writing. As it
was being written in Late October for publication in early December
there was a requirement for the mention of was to be an imminently
I turned to the Internet for the date.
Scouring the websites of the local council, Chamber of Commerce, a major radio station covering the area, and the Facebook pages of the same, I established that the event was taking place on dates in December 2013, 2014 and 2015.
That the Internet held out-of-date and erroneous data wasn’t a great surprise to me. However, the fact that official and authoritative bodies were actively promoting information that was at least two years, out-of-date, did cause a twitching of my eyebrows. I cannot say if relevant, but none of the sources carried dates of their posting. The only way to determine the actual year stated was to marry up the date with the day of the week quoted, and use a calendar.
In the end I managed to find a date that matched this year on the Mumsnet website. Reluctantly I picked up my telephone and rang the area’s council and was held in a queue - exactly what I had originally wished to avoid - in order that I might confirm the date.
Overall the exercise took me an awful lot longer than if I had picked up the phone in the first place.
Researching can be such fun!
Wednesday 8 November, 2017
I turned off the main road and onto a long residential
street close to where I live. There was immediate relief from the
traffic noise and I settled into the last leg of my journey expecting
However, off far ahead of me came the sound of a loud conversation; its volume being almost that of shouting without actually being so.
At first I thought that it might have been an attached couple having one of ‘those’ conversations better held indoors away from those who tend towards voluntarily setting their DVRs to record The Jeremy Kyle Show, or a group of youngsters discussing an upcoming party or suchlike.
As the source of the exchange came closer and louder, it also became clearer and I then realised that I was only hearing one half of it.
‘He has no idea about anything. I come and go as I please and get it as often as I like and he either knows nothing, or don’t care!’
‘Yeah, he’s an idiot as well. If he had half a brain he’d be fucking dangerous!’
‘To be honest, if he were getting it elsewhere then he’d still not be getting it as much as me because I get out so much, all I have to do is click my fingers and some geezer is up me.’
Then the woman talking came into view as she and I approached a bend from opposite directions.
She was tired-looking, but obviously young and attractive, talking very loudly into a mobile phone while pushing a small child in a buggy.
‘Well, one thing for sure, he isn’t getting it as often as me because I’m screwing every night and he can’t manage it that often.’
Our eyes briefly met as we passed.
‘Nah, if he is getting it somewhere, some poor lass will have to put up with a performance that really isn’t worth the hassle. He couldn’t find a clit even if it were labelled or decorated with fucking Christmas lights,’ followed by a snorting laugh.
I glanced back as she carried on her extremely loud and graphic conversation into the little electronic device held to her ear and hoped that those with sensitive feelings living in any of the houses either side had decent double glazing so that they might be spared.
Tuesday 7 November, 2017
|Editorial deadlines are like London buses: you spend ages waiting then a whole bunch comes along at once.|
Monday 6 November, 2017
The skies were clear last night so I hustled my recently
assembled telescope out into the garden so as perform the final setup
step which required me to sight the Pole Star (Polaris).
I have a low power light attached to the garage wall to softly illuminate the garden and a remote control enables me to turn it on and off from the house or garden without having to physically access the power switch. At the touch of a button, the dimly lit garden was plunged into near total darkness, save the moonlight.
Final setting was simple and straightforward; completed in a couple of minutes, after which I turned my attention to trying out the various eyepieces. Starting with a low magnification/wide-view piece, I pointed the telescope at the nearly full Moon.
It was a strange experience seeing the edges were not smooth due to the relief of the craters and their shadows. The surface was pock-marked with the things - no longer patterns but real surface features. I found it fascinating.
Then I wanted to try a narrow-angle lens now that I had located an object and had the telescope correctly orientated. It was then that I discovered something interesting.
I was now almost blind in one eye as if I had been dazzled by an oncoming car on main beam. Trying to swap the eye pieces was a serious challenge.
The bright moon had taken away my night vision in the eye that had been used to marvel at it. In fact it was so marked that even when I turned on the garden light in order to make sure that I didn’t drop the expensive glassware, I was still unable to make out objects right in front of me.
Note to self: in future, stargaze or moongaze, but never attempt a mixture - at least not when the Moon is almost full in the night sky.
Sunday 5 November, 2017
I don’t suppose that there are many who remember the
event that gave rise to our quaint celebration of failure. Given that it
was 412 years ago today, those who do claim to recall the details will
be extremely old, or liars.
It’s a funny old event that takes place annually. For most of the 1600s, the effigy burnt was that of the Pope rather than the chap who was first caught.
On the face of things it seems strange to rejoice in failure but it is actually a remembrance of the failed attempt by religious fanatics to blow up members of the Establishment to further their argument.
Saturday 4 November, 2017
The alarm went off and I thought about getting up for a
second or two before deciding to have a lie-in.
I needn't have bothered becoming comfortable: a dog in the kitchen decided he didn't want to stay in the kitchen and let me know by jumping up at the kitchen door so I would understand that the kitchen wasn't his favourite place right that moment. Which is odd because it is a nice kitchen.
So, having wasted valuable writing time on an aborted lie-in, I arose and went down to the kitchen..
Having investigated the garden and returned back to his bed in the unfairly maligned kitchen, I went back to my bed...
...long enough to become comfortable before hearing him again jumping up at the kitchen door.
Had I been the kitchen, I would have been upset and annoyed. As it was, I am not the kitchen, but I was no less upset and annoyed.
And so it was the time for technology to be my friend. Watching him on my smartphone via the webcam in the kitchen, I decided to access the device's speaker and issue a command to stop. I figured that if he reacted badly to hearing words coming from near the ceiling, then I would have lost nothing if barking was the result: I would have to get out of bed again in order to attend to him for one or the other.
He stared up at the camera for about a minute then lay down.
Probably one of the better items of technology I have purchased over the years, but it didn't enable today's Blog to be uploaded any sooner...
Friday 3 November, 2017
I took my telescope out of the garage and assembled it;
taking only 30 minutes to piece it together before the real fun began.
In order to set it up correctly according to my location on the Earth’s surface and, consequently, my perspective of the heavens, I needed to align the base of the mount in a particular manner. Once done I further read in the manual that I needed to elevate the main body according to my determined latitude.
So far, so good.
Next, with the telescope now in the ‘starting position’ I was to lock one of the joints of the mount at a particular angle and I could then finalise setting up by pointing it at the Pole Star (Polaris).
Except that having followed the instructions to the letter, it was now impossible to orientate the telescope so as to point it at the required area of sky.
Oh the pain that followed over the remainder of the day.
The first indication that what I had read might be wrong was that I could not replicate the same positioning if I stuck to the instructions as written in the German language section. However, my German was not good enough to fully understand what I was supposed to do.
After much research on the issue, I discovered two things: the manual gave me the wrong alignment instructions by a full 180 degrees, and it omitted to mention that the locking of the particular mounting joint was a temporary measure required to attain the ‘starting position.’
Sorted! Now all that was finally needed was a ‘sighting’ of Polaris...
...which was hidden by heavy cloud.
Just the One Today
Thursday 2 November, 2017
I walking back from town and I passed the same shop which
The Three Amigos entry of last week.
Entering the place was a woman wearing a fluffy leopard-skin patterned bathrobe with similarly fluffy electric-blue pyjama bottoms poking out the bottom. In a very unbedroom-like move, she was wearing white trainers.
Different car, but the woman was around the same age as the others, although later in the day as this was nearer 4pm. I noted the same cloudless sky and unseasonably mild weather, though.
Global warming has a lot to answer for.
Well Done, Guys!
Wednesday 1 November, 2017
Last night was entertaining. Many of the kids were very
well made-up and their parents and guardians either stood with them or
just off away a little, were right to be proud.
Unfortunately a group of older boys followed the dedicated about the estate and knocked on doors, grabbed fistfuls of sweets when offered, and trashed Halloween displays outside households happy to accept troops of children Trick-or-Treating.
A neighbour had their pumpkin lanterns squashed or kicked down the street by the same idiots, and items ripped off the door.
An otherwise good evening: chilly but dry, ruined by yobs.
Well done, guys. You managed to ruin it for everyone else. I am curious how you will feel if when you are older and have families, then strangers come along and abuse you, your hospitality and your home.