Work today was shit as usual, I’m trapped inside doing something I’m not paid to do, its not my forte’ I draw squares, there’s been no square drawing of late. I ordered hardcore last week it came today and I had to lift my fence panel to allow the stones to get comfortable in my garden. I shared the delivery man with my neighbour, we social distanced, until he dropped his load into my neighbours garden, it was dirty, the rain had made the aggregate muddy, you dirty bastards.

Anyway, the exciting news from today is my neighbour has bought himself a dirty sex pond, from Sweden, powered by logs, from the catalogue its called the regal and is, by all accounts fit for royalty. Well here’s an experiment, lets turn it on, get the bubbles foaming and the lights flashing and lets see if we can’t get the birth rate of our village to rise. We could become the village with the oldest residents with the highest birth rate, My neighbours hot tub could be the catalyst for the wife swapping parishioners, where the campanologists stop by for a quick fiddle on the way home from the church, bringing their own logs for fuel, its impolite to take someones hospitality for granted. By this time everyone in the tub would be well fuelled on a diet of village ayahuasca (bluebell petal juice, ground woodpecker beak and a spoonful of the contents of my septic tank). Its like rocket fuel, or crack. At which point One of the revelling Bacchae from the tub would get their Huawei out take a photo of something in the bathroom and alter the filters to turn it into something abstract in black and white.

I bet you this will happen.