Nope, but a few nondescript oddments might avoid the next half hour going to waste, so here goes:
I heard a loud noise going over my house one day. It was much louder than the commercial jetliners heading for East Midlands Airport, and it didn’t sound like a jet engine anyway, so I went out to take a look. Four big drones were crossing the field beyond my garden, so big that I assumed they must have been military drones. I’ve only ever seen one drone before. A small one spent five minutes hovering around me as I walked along Mill Lane last autumn. (Nearly everything of interest that happens in these parts happens in Mill Lane. Have you noticed?)
I encountered the Lady B’s dear mama, honourable sister, and Oscar the dog on my walk yesterday (as I was approaching Mill Lane.) ‘Hello Oscar,’ I said enthusiastically, because that’s what you normally say to dogs called Oscar. ‘You remember his name,’ said honourable sister in a tone indicating both surprise and approbation. Well, of course I remembered his name. It’s people’s names I can never remember.
I’m doing the toughest of the spring garden jobs at the moment – out with the pole hedge trimmer and ladder trimming the tall boundary hedge which runs down the length of my garden. It’s hard going these days because my energy, strength, and sense of balance are a little depleted now, and so I have to rely on courage to get the job done. The problem is that my courage is much depleted as well.
I was woken up last night by a deep, scraping sound above my bedroom ceiling. It sounded like somebody pulling a heavy object across the floor. This is a little odd because all there is above my bedroom ceiling is the house roof space, the floor of which is not boarded. I was reminded of the short but deep growling sound I heard outside my bedroom door one night, and so I did the same as I did on that occasion – decided I was unlikely to think of an explanation and went back to sleep.
The half hour is conveniently up.
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