YOU F****** C(’scuse me, doorbell)

anyway, as i was about to say before i was interrupted, i spent a good part of today in a very sweary pub. the very rudest of swears are common parlance there. and i think that this is a good thing.

there are some snobby people around who think that having a right old ‘lord mayor’ up is an indication of a limited vocabulary; but they are, in my opinion, wrong.

i like to think that i have a fair vocabulary; nothing to brag about but of a reasonable size. words of more than one, two or even three syllables are at my command but nothing fits the bill like a good old swear. swears are the oldest words in any tongue; when man first dropped a big stone on his toe while trying to hack a lampshade out of it for his missus, what do you think he said?

i really love swearing. there is no word that i will not say in moments of grief or exasperation. and when i do kick off, anyone who thinks i have a limited vocabulary can have a good listen and then they can shove it right up their fu(’scuse me, someone at the door again).

where was i? oh yes. i was at the sweary pub swigging cider with john. john has been fighting for custody rights of a lurcher but he took my advice and said he would hand it back when all the vet’s bills had been settled. so now john gets to keep megan (a.k.a. munchkin) and i said that i would take her out rabbitting when he is at work. don’t look at me like that. that’s what lurchers do and if you don’t like it you can go and live in islington where ostrich steaks come in plastic packs.

i want a little dog but it would not be fair of me to keep one until we get the boat. a cross between a schnauzer and a jack russell would be ideal so that i could go ratting with vodka mick. but that idea will have to be on hold until i can provide for my faithful little dog properly.

what a lovely day, weatherwise. shame that i blew it by snoozing and sweary pubbing but that’s my life and i really have no choice. but i feel good, and all because of yesterday. yesterday i went to check where i will place my second cache. ‘weyside wander’ and found a tasty spot. as i was walking the towpath a narrowboat came through and i recognised it; it was a boat that i had shared papercourt lock with last year when one of their crew had opened a gate paddle and given my boat a noseful of water. when we got back to pyrford lock they were mucking about trying to get through - same bloke at the helm. they had opened both gates and i really had to laugh when i saw the helmsman trying to get through from the pound. thanks to my experience of the kennet and avon i can do single-locking and can get a boat through ONE lock gate with about two inches on each side to spare. i really am that good.

but we helped them through the lock and had a chat and that all about boaty stuff and moorings.
tonight trouty had found some very old humbrol paints and i used them to camouflage my new cache box. it’s getting planted tomorrow even if the rain pisses down. you might call that swearing, but i don’t care.

stats: well you don’t care so why should i bother?
groovy sounds: joni mitchell

i missed out the possesive apostrophe when i mentioned john donne’s summerhouse. dear reader, can you find it in your flinty heart to forgive me?

sleep well.