An interim entry to record the outcome of our house viewing yesterday–they loved the house, but are not in a position to proceed. Not to worry. Bring on the next ones.
I had visions today of getting not just sunshine but also a bit of woodland walking. It was one of those days.
Well, I didn’t get the woodland. Had to settle for Taunton so’s Graham could make an appointment for an eye examination and buy Aramis. I claimed food as my reward, quaffing a meatball marinara subway and a large coffee with indecent relish, and tucking into a small feta and pasta salad with rich tomato sauce and two small custard tarts when we got home.
While Graham was plodding around looking for the cheapest Aramis deal–at 50 quid a bottle a degree of plodding is justified–I was lodged happily in a sheltered seating area between the farmer’s market stalls and the rapidly decaying shop front that used to be Laura Ashley. The sky clouded over for a little while, and there was a dampness in the air which drove off the smelly scrotes who were tucking into a KFC bucket for their lunch. I was happier when they’d gone.
I gazed up into the sky and watched the pigeons playing tag between the buildings and the tree tops. They are dirty and smelly, too, and noisy with it. It’s an entirely different dirty, smelly and noisy, though and, unlike the scrotes, I’d be sorry to see the pigeons go.
I didn’t count but I did notice a number of closed shops in Taunton. Of a sudden there are visible signs of an economic downturn to go with the signals coming out of the finance and housing markets. It’ll all end in tears, I’m afraid.
Above us the pigeons