Once again Fandango and Ragtag are bedfellows on my blog, they might never have even met, but seem pretty progressive in their blogging, so hey, maybe they might like it. Can you believe we are 32 days in since the pubs shut? This is bonkers and seemingly with no let up on any horizon I can see. Its interesting to note that the truly awful rag of a British Daily paper, the Sun, has taken to speculating when the pubs will re-open; like me, like on my blog! How dare they, this is my preoccupation amongst others, but to have it as the front page of a daily newspaper, screw the 600 odd people who died yesterday, screw  holding the politicians to account as they steer this ship by blowing into the sails with coloured unrecyclable environment wrecking straws. Shame on you “the Sun” and that is all I have to say about that, apart from stop buying it if you are, even if you’re buying it ironically, you’re not, its a dish rag, not even fit for cat litter.

This little Brown fluff ball is my dear departed first dog, Hovis, possibly a few days old. The photo fell out of the bottom of the filing cabinet which has been earmarked for migration to the study upstairs, for over a year I would say. Finally the guilt got the better of me as Mrs T gave me a flutter of her eyelashes or thats how I saw it, and we struggled it up the stairs to provide a seat for the printer. Now I’ve room to rest my feet under my desk, but no room to hide all my shit which comes with the underneath of my desk, electrical charging leads and lego people tumbling out of the top and sides of Tescos Bags for life which are coming to the end of theirs by the looks of it. Previously hidden by the filing cabinet, now there’s no where to hide for this detritus. I’ll pop it on the list to sort out later.

My daughter, short of any academic work to do, due to her GCSE’s being cancelled, has taken to DIY, specifically sanding the outside table and chairs, they look amazing, and gives her a brief respite from her telephone, iPad or television screen, take your pick. When no one is around she’s watching telly at 3:30 in the morning. I’m not sure how to deal with this? I’m sure I was driving my folks insane when I came home from school in the holidays, playing records until all hours, coming home from the pub at all hours, the local pub used to have a lock in system, probably still does, but coming home at 3 or 4am wasn’t that unusual, for a rurally positioned young chap like myself. I used to sneak in by  tripping up the steps on the gravel out side the back door, all the security lights turned on, i’d fumble around for my keys whilst trying to take my Doc Martens off at the same time to save time and ended up invariably falling through the door as I heaved against the stickiness, then collapsing into the umbrella pot (still there, still full of walking sticks and umbrellas, still no one uses them, still got a crack at the back). So I’d be on the floor, heaving off my boots, pushing the door shut, shhh’ing the dog, as I walked through the kitchen with my boots to get water before I went to bed. In the winter there were quite often slugs on the floor, in the winter I would forget the slugs were on the floor, in the winter I would tread on them and scream as I trod on them. Dad had taken to pouring salt on them before he went to bed, which as you could imagine left a diabolical mess. Makes me gag thinking about it, and I believe I’ve told this one before, so I won’t say any more. Try and find the original text by reading everything i’ve ever written these past 3 years and you can come for a pint when all this is done. Point is My daughter is like me, crashing about, although not drunk yet, playing music and watching television, she’s got a choice, we had 2 channels I think, maybe just 1 which went past 2am, the witching hour. So not sure what I can do apart form make her resent me by waking her up early in the morning, so she gets tired, ratty and cross. Like the rainforest she is a delicate ecosystem to disrupt, and thinking along the analogy then maybe I should just let it pass and things will either return to a pleasing balance or she’ll move out, which I imagine she will in a few years. I’ll miss it all when she does, but we’ve still got our son who is 5 years behind her. Happy days…