Bank Holiday Weekend

After the sobering news on Friday, a gentle weekend was just the ticket.

In preparation for next weekend a new barbecue and gazebo were purchased and in the case of the former assembled.

It being a trolley type arrangement, with untold number of parts, it required a good bit of assembly, but my spatial awareness and ability to read technica1 drawings is not bad, so usually flat packs hold no major fear for me.

That said, can I just question whether it’s entirely necessary to give instructions like “fix bar D to cross plate E, using bolts Q, nuts R and washers S”, when the pack of nuts, bolts and washers uses a completely different nomenclature? Accordingly, I had to keep flick back and forward in the instruction booklet to the cross reference table that informed you that bolt Q was also known as M6o35 and nut R M5o45. Trust me by step 77, this becomes very annoying.

Still, five paper cuts later (I’m joking), and one trip back to the shop to exchange two parts that came damaged/broken, the barbecue was assembled and very fine it looks too.

Best of all, though I didn’t realise it when I purchased it (I was concentrating on spec and sale prices!), it’s part of the Anthony Worell Thompson range and therefore, come Saturday, we can enjoy the sport of getting the barbecue going by burning the cardboard packaging, complete with smug twat grinning TV chef image.

Saturday evening was spent eating salad in the garden at S&K’s and having a fine evening of catching up (so long since I last saw them ;-) ). It may be a sign of the fact that all three of us were drinking, but the principle point of entertainment for the latter part of the evening, was arranging a poor resting Millie dog with a bottle of lager under her paw, to look like she was passed out ‘tired and emotional’. You probably had to be there…

Monday was spent tidying garden and house (the former hampered a little by showers), some Greenbelt work and then a curry with friends.

As we walked in a party of three were leaving and after a few seconds of eye contact with the woman, I realised it was L who used to come to the literature evening class I went to, many, many moons ago.

There are signs that you haven’t seen someone for ages, when they say “and this is my two and half year old son”.

She also commented that it was me that had first introduced her to the Punjab many years back. Now that doesn’t sound likely does it…?