He who speaks and acts too soon

The wheelie-bin. It kept blowing over. So I glued the lid shut, hacksawed the side off, and hinged it. Sorted: Barton plays host to the UK's first horizontal wheelie-bin. *Smug grin* *Grin turns to grimace as it dawns that Pete, Liz and Marie should have been consulted: I have, after all, destroyed cafetieres and kitchens through inspired "innovations"* Oh dear *Wonders what it would cost to replace a wheelie-bin* "The theft of a wheelie-bin" he reasons.

Honouring a favoured blog of the moment, let me begin with...
8:10 Delayed - inside handle of loo door came off in driver's hand. Driver trapped all day. Driver looking rather sheepish thought wife-of-driver this evening. This, on top of years of mistrust, means that divorce proceedings will be initiated tomorrow. And all because of a loo door. Where's the justice?

Anyway. Was confirmed today that the work trip with Emma (way way way up north - where they talk really really funny) is definitely happening: Mon 31st Jan - Weds 2nd Feb. Should be interesting. Have deliberately wound down the chitty-chatty with Ms E. There's been a self-feeling-like-a-lost-or-wanting-puppy - not to mention a stepping-on-Ed-toes - thing that I've begun to tire of. If there's to be any developments Emmawardly it'll have to be initiated - or at least really clearly prompted - by her. "And a brandy for him" should do it.

Received a call half an hour ago from Catherine. Would I be able to land at her house in the big city Saturday lunch-time ("yes, why?") to assist with the general chaos that goes with hosting a 4 year old's birthday party ("oh shit"). Grandmother of 4 year old has been laid low with a most vicious of bugs ("oh - the shits") and ought not be going anywhere near small people. So, with face paints and seven barrels of fear (again, "the ...") I shall be heading into the abyss.

Heard from Mother Wexford that Sister Wexford has her last day on placement at Dodgeville First School tomorrow, will be entertaining the 7 and 8 year olds with guitar. Sounded like fun.

If you're reading this at work, and if you can afford it, and if no one else can help: Take the rest of the day off. Go and buy a book - the autobiography that you keep telling yourself that you're going to buy. That's right. Shut down. Coat on. Away you go. Drop by again some time.

And mind the stairs. Or the ramp. Especially if it's icy.