Oakey Dokey, guess what tree this bark resides on?
This morning I had to drive the 140 mile round trip back to my folks to pick up my forgotten work boots, which I could do without but it would be detrimental to my feet wearing the replacements I keep in the boot of my car, unworn for over a year I should think.
Dropped off daughter at work in the cafe, got on the motorway and hammered it to Mum and Dad’s. I got there and a strange thing happened; Mum asked me if I wanted some toast and got the butter out of the fridge and a new pot of Marmalade from the cupboard. I was having a shouty conversation with her (she’s more than slightly deaf now without the prospect of a hearing aid) so we weren’t angry, its just a bit intense, communicating there. The toast done, the butter ready to spread, she took out a wooden spoon and began slapping the top of the jar’s lid with it! What the hell was going on I asked my self and her, to whit she replied that she was sorting out the air in the jar.
No further explanations your honour…
I will probably never know as conversation with Mum can be fractured and disjointed not to mention misunderstanding and so I’ll just accept “sorting out the air in the jar”
As a consequence of all this driving about the midlands I’m knackered and its only 3pm, might try and grab 40 winks while everyone is out of the house. This song fits rather well!