Year Zero: Day 40

Fandango and Ragtag together once more in a lockdown embrace.


40 days? Can you believe that, since the pubs shut, official lockdown, although my son pointed out to me yesterday that he hadn’t been out in a car since about March 8th, stying firmly within the parish of Shrawley for fear of the ghostly riders of Astley a squad of demons who will stop at nothing for the soul of an 11 year old boy, either that or they’re just horse riders, which may be the case.

Yesterday I ordered some patio tiles, about 4pm on a Sunday afternoon, they came at about 10:30am today, Monday. But as my son quite rightly pointed out; he cant cut his hair with a load of patio slabs, to which I pointed out that possibly we could if a shard sharp enough splintered off whilst we were cutting to lay the slabs. Just in case you have no idea what I’m on about we ordered some hair clippers about 4 weeks ago on Amazon Prime, they will come, but not today, I think we’ve got 2 weeks and then I’m let lose with the razor sharp hair aggressors, which I haven’t been able to do since I gave him his very first home haircut with some paper scissors, the ones with the rounded ends. That didn’t end well as I chased his fringe from left to right and ended up producing a 45′ angle of hair. Mrs T cried, I probably took the dog for a walk and had a pint by the canal until it was safe to come back.

Now the slabs are here, and have migrated across the garden away from the quarter size mini football pitch, which is in desperate need of turf and rain, the dog running up and down the fence grumbling and free kicks whilst aiming for “Top Bins” hasn’t helped the garden out much over this dry period, i’ll be perfectly honest with you. So I feel slightly happier in my self to lay a patio, the hardcore is coming on Thursday (best make sure the wife’s out!) and so this coming weekend, which will be upon us in a jiffy, will be patio weekend, whoop, whoop!! 2 things; 1) It’ll wreck my back, and 2) there will be a considerable amount of pressure to perform, as it were. Mrs T reminded me today of the patio I built at 36 Belmont Street, our first house in Worcester, its on the Ministry Tourist path, google it, the house came up for sale a year or two ago and the patio was still there, proud and made from sleepers which I cut with a manual saw. Alas the shit pub on the canal is gone, and the shit park at the end of the road where I used to walk Hovis and the yappy dog at the end of the road used to crack the fence. I never saw the owner take it out, no wonder it was so bloody cross all the time.

So a rubber hammer and dry mix concrete its needed, before any levelling will happen, the whacker plate will be a fun thing to do, and I may even be able to steal a chat with my friend up the road if he lets me borrow it, which he said he would. Anyway, thats it. I may write something about records later, we’ll see.

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