‘It’s All Your Fault’

 The good weather is about to break, and the closeness seems to confirm this, so I will be up and out early before ‘Rain stopped play’ as they used to say on the old steam radio, a BBC cricket reports always followed the news.

I spotted a large piece of flat-pack timber in a skip over at Guardbridge, (they may even be more) so that will be my destination, mit trailer. Only 6 or 7 miles round trip so a shot day but hey we have done a bit this week and I really do need the timber.

Since I have been using my folding bike more than my grown-up bike, I decided to swap saddles, the one that came with the bike is OK but my Brooks is much more comfortable. Then the handlebars, I have never liked a straight bar, holding the bar in the same hand position is tolerable for a couple of hours, but even then it becomes uncomfortable, I like butterfly bars for touring.

Now it just so happens that the ones on my tricycle are the right diameter for the folding bike so that was my next job, swap bars. As luck would have it the bars from the tricycle are fairly flat so fold down neatly much as the straight bar did. Therefore not only do I have more area to put all the bits and bobs on, bar bag, GPS, and bell, I can now move my hand to different positions around the bars,

Isabelle, necessary on a bike? Well yes, in Europe it’s compulsory.

I am really pleased with the strawberries, I planted in the hanging pots, (one of three) they are covered in flowers and some of the strawberries have even set, so looking forward to a good crop. Next year I will put them into something bigger for keeping the soil moist has been a full time job.

And why not some pretty flowers.

I did grow a lot of strawberries on my allotment, well they propagate so easily, and mum loved them, (as did the birds, snails, slugs…..) so mum had strawberries most days when they were in season, in some form or other. She said they tasted much better than the ones from Morrisons. Well, I would hope so mum. Me, I’m allergic to strawberries, they bring me out in blotches.

Thursday 07.30 the Alex Salmond Show.

I watched the show and then it was into the old kitchens, and out with the tric and trailer. It has been a while since I rode the tricycle and it seems very strange indeed. As I neared my destination I spotted a skip lorry,

“Oh no, help ma boab.”

“It’s all your fault, Alex Salmond.”

“What did I do?”

Everybody’s picking on me, even that SNP Junta.

But Sturgeon’s time is coming, hee, hee, hee. He who laughs last – laughs longest.

At the autumn conference Sturgeon will try to talk about rebuilding Scotland after the pandemic, but the Scots are fed up living on dreams, they know the only way to prosperity is to be free of Westminster control. (Alba now has a membership of eight thousand, and is the fastest growing political party in Europe.)

Sadly for Sturgeon an independence referendum is not in her gift, and as the SNP membership continues to fall, the SNP MPs at Westminster will start to lose faith in a leader that can not keep handing out their meal tickets and free passage on the Westminster gravy train. No matter the popularity of Sturgeon at Holyrood, self-preservation is a very strong motivation for kick, even the most popular of leaders out, think Margaret Thatcher.

Keep safe.  

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