I bet that if you could find a rented mule that was more stubborn than me, it would cost you more than ten bob.

This evening it took me half an hour to get dressed; I don’t think I’ll be going to Buffs tomorrow.

The thing with being stubborn is that it never goes away. Stubbornness never leaves you alone - like a party that nobody comes to.

To look at me, you might think that I am am happy and all that. But I am not.

However, I am stubborn so I can do things that other people can’t.

(caution: may contantain nuts)

My brother sharpened his pen and attended forthwith.

Let me explain; a broken arm is a broken arm. Hooray for me because I managed to get get dresssed.

Maybe tomorrow I shall sit in my OCD seat and wait until Doc Holiday sees me.

My other thanks go to Mani who did some laundry and, of course, Omally

yarroo!

this one really hurts i tell you.
my left arm is bust right at the neck. at the shoulder.

thanks to my brother he has kept me supplied. sometimes i feel like crying but that won’t do any good.

back to bed for me.

stay safe.

Seeing as how the Hornby Dublo trainset that exists around here can’t cope with a couple of inches of snow and, seeing as I was supposed to see Doc Holiday, I decided to hoof it.

It was quite a nice day but the black-ice was treacherous. I reached the surgery bang on time, had the chat and then went to the bank. Oh dear - I am a ton in the red.

I bought a little basket of stuff and made for the tills.

At the ‘baskets only’ thing there was a woman in front of me. Well, that’s alright because I’ve got all day anyway. So I stood and waited and then I heard the magic words:

“Oi, you.”

Then I got a prod in the back.

“There is a queue, you know.”

Well, to me, a queue is a line and not a load of morons bumbling about. The man who had prodded me was about my age (although I look much younger) and he was in a right strop. Now I don’t much like being ‘Oi youd’ and I certainly don’t like being prodded. I explained that I wasn’t aware of being a queue jumper and made my apologies and and retired to the rear of the milling crowd.

I started to converse with a nice lady. She said, “Look - till rage", and it was the same bloke going raving bonkers. All I had was an apple and some Aunt Bessie’s spuds (no chance of them thawing out) and then the fight nearly started. There was a woman paying for some stuff and matey started chiming in and then another bloke thought it would be a good idea to have a go. The row really started to kick off.

Scummer number one could have been decked with one good punch but I had decided to behave myself and so me and this lady just shook our heads. We talked about the weather. Then, the alert supermarket team sprang into action and fired-up all tills.

Outside, in the carpark, I nearly got killed by a man in a 4X4 who had decided to drive on the pedestrian walkway. Another woman said, “You just can’t believe it, can you?”

The trains were dead. One broken at Berrylands and so I started talking to a fellow and we had both lived in Berlin. He was ex-services but I never told him what I did there. He probably thinks I did ’secret’ things.

I drank my coffee and walked home.

I’m now friends with a neighbour and, hey, Omally might well be arriving soonish.

Don’t forget to hold hands when you cross the road.

H.

(my regards to, hmmm, Robert Heinlein, unless I am very much mistaken)

Ever seen me sorely vexed? What? Never? Happy-go-lucky old me? No answer required from Trouty but I bet the rest of you can hardly imagine it for a million pounds.

You should have seen me yesterday. It was the first time that I had actually cried for years. Barbie Henry cries real tears.

Half of it has stopped working so then I have to rewire everything to see the other half and so-on and so-forth.

The font on the lappytoppy is so small that even a leprechaun couldn’t read it and my speakers won’t plug into it and, and, and…

I hope that this message in a bottle finds its way into your safe hands.

Don’t take sweets from strangers, especially those who have found themselves in a strange land.

Love and kisses,
H.

Unless you want to drive yourself absolutely nutbags, never, ever get a a new compluter.
In my humble experience you will find that they don’t work the same and will destroy everything that you ever had before.
All I ever wanted was something that worked the same, something that I understood.
Now, everything is different.
I have to revert to the clockwork one just to blah, blah and, indeed, blah.

I’m SO depressed.

How does this new thing work? I dunno. How does the old one work? Search me.

The new router seems to work but I am too old for learning curves.

Why can’t it just be the same? I am very miserable.

There seems to have been a bit of a mix-up in the interwebular world.
For a start my router blew up which is why I havent been about for a while. In order to try to sort this out involved (and I am NOT joking) over two hours on the phone to New Delhi at Gawd knows what cost.

I gave up on my D-Link router (the second one, may I add) and I went and bought a Belkin router for a million pounds. Eventually, after more calls to the sub-continent, I got the thing thing going and, hooray, I was back on line. Or was I?

Everything is different, which I do not like, and I can’t do the things that I need to do. I just want it to be the same - that’s all. At least I am half back on line. I can’t get SimonG’s site to work properly, or mine come to that.

AOSmell say that they do not support Belkin and I suspect there may be some awful battle of the firewalls going on. I can still post but my blog is lost and this wretched thing thinks I should sign up to Blogger but I can’t manage it.

I really am at my wit’s end with it all.

Where’s my blog gone?