Glorious Technicolour

Life has been a bit grim/hectic/headless chicken territory of late.

First I never did get over the flu thing I had in January necessitating endless visits to my pulmonologist .  Second, my friend with whom I share a plot in the community garden has tottered off with melonoma leaving me with a double work load. Third spousal unit has had a bit of a run in with his health too.  (We really should have sold this place last year, far too big and far too much work and retired to our ‘pocket handkerchief’ in town!)  But here we still are, the jungle is flowering big time!

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Long walk to freedom – the Lego edition

Apparently Google have run a competition on behalf of the Nelson Mandela Foundation. YouTube creators had been asked to celebrate Madiba’s legacy in video.

There are three finalists, more on the official Nelson Mandela Foundation page here.

The creators of this video are now canvassing Lego to actually manufacture a Mandela Lego range.

Here are the other two finalists —->

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May-ish Photo Comp. – Trees.

Abject apologies for the lateness of this, I have been busy repairing some winter damage to the other house but that is no real excuse for my dereliction.  Anyway here we are and May is almost gone and photographic opportunities abound.  So how about we make the subject “Trees”.   It can be one, a few or a whole forest if can get them in the viewfinder.  I like trees and can often see the Ent in many of them.

Here are a few I took this morning wandering around the yard (me that is, the trees were their usual stationary selves).  t3cs

The conifer in the middle was our 1994 Christmas tree, now about 50 feet and thriving.

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And I thought life had passed me by!

I’ve finally done it!  I’ve been chucked out of a pub.  Why, you will wonder.  Was I dancing on tables or singing raucous Scottish songs in a corner?  No, nothing so exciting.  After waiting over 45 minutes for our lunch order, which had been lost somehow,  I was confident that the food would arrive not properly prepared.  And I was right.  Husband’s fish was warm not hot, my mushrooms were almost raw and the chips – large slabs of pale, unappetising potato.  We complained to the bar maid, who said she would pass it on to the landlady.

Not having a cruel nature, I will refrain from any physical description of this landlady who turned up at our table. Her explanation that there was only one chef in the kitchen – not our problem – and that when all the orders came at once, this caused difficulty, differed from her staff’s. The pub was not busy. But it was when husband spoke disparagingly of the chips, which we had not eaten, that she really flipped. Grabbing our unfinished drinks, she ordered us out of “her” pub, describing husband as a very rude young man.  I think she must have been suffering from landlord’s disease because husband will reach his three score years and ten in September, albeit unreconstructed three score and ten as he himself says quite proudly.

Was I right to follow her back into the pub demanding a refund for our confiscated drinks? It didn’t seem to soothe her any and we were once again ordered to leave.  Ah well, life’s rich tapestry …