View from the Window

I have yet to look out and summer has arrived, this morning there is sunshine but that cold wind is still hovering about, no doubt if I went out the back and sat down behind the barricades then I would think it is lovely, until I stood up of course. D-Day yesterday and we still had to put the heating on to be comfortable in the living room. Anyway, a clear view today so fingers crossed.

My family left on Friday and are well ensconced back in Seoul by now, where they do get summers and air conditioning is a must, they have taken the usual staples back with them, Branston Fruity Sauce, Bisto and Lyon's Sports Mixture to name a few. I cannot talk because as they had a flying visit north of the border I have had the good fortune to avail myself once again of square sausage, haggis, scotch pies and plain bread, we also had a 'red cross' parcel delivered which contained more sausage, Ayrshire bacon and cold meats. You can take the boy out of Scotland etc.

 
The missus is having a well deserved rest today, as she has looked after everybody and me since the op, at some point if the sun stays out and it remains dry, which is possible, she is heading to the garden to 'potter'. This usually has the effect of making me feel guilty as I look out from the back window sipping wine/coffee/beer (delete as applicable), as she hacks her way through the jungle, taking care to fill up the green bins and not the grey one, remember when you simply piled it up and put a match to it? But this time I can play the injury card, clouds and silver linings spring to mind, "don't you over do it love, cup of tea?" he grins inwardly as he garners brownie points.

Have you noticed that no one uses 'excuse me' any more, I have seen this many times recently, especially in large shops or supermarkets where I am not point man and am usually waddling along a few feet behind the missus, the opposite of that religion actually, you know the one. People simply stand behind her and I presume beam their presence to her through thought waves as she inspects a purchase completely oblivious of the fact they want past. Then when this doesn't work they look around for others to agree or smile limply and perhaps add their thought waves to the exercise, cook the wife's brain for ignoring them maybe, holding them up from getting to the 100 for 1 deal on cream cakes. When the wife does eventually twig that someone wants past and moves accordingly, you don't need to be a psychic to pick up their thoughts then.

What's with the tattoos people? When I was in the navy they were officially looked on as 'self inflicted wounds' and you could be given punishment for getting one, no one to my knowledge ever did get punished, waking up the next morning after twenty pints of beer or several bottles of the local hooch and spying "I love Conchita/Jane/Bunny Wunny or these days Tom/Dick/Harry" may have been deemed punishment enough. I think Morecambe probably always had a tattoo parlour, but now we have one in the town down the road and another a few miles away, enterprising stuff and not cheap. One of my customers had an Alice Cooper album cover inked on his back and paid several hundred pounds for the privilege of never being able to see it unless it was photographed, why not just buy the album or am I missing the point, the point, geddit? He was old school though, not for him the pointless swirls and jaggy points over half his torso or the meaningful old language texts which no one understands, his tattoos were rooted in the past, "I luv Mum", or at least that was what it looked like, it could quite easily have been a lion or an eagle, or a jaguar.