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Brown bread
Jun. 1st, 2007 05:49 pmI've been thinking that all my entries lately have been quite random and disconnected, and this one isn't going to be any different, I'm afraid.
The rain has stopped. We had more rain in the last three days than we did for all last winter. It does rather make a mockery of the water savings measures we have to go through. We've had so many public service announcements on the importance of catching and using the excess water in the shower or the cold water that comes out when the hot tap is heating up; I've stopped doing that this week because, frankly, I've got more than enough water already.
I found a second leak in the kitchen and called Simon, who came round and had a look. He stomped about on the roof for a bit before deciding that the problem was one gutter being overwhelmed by the expanse of roof and unusual volume of rain. "It'll be a nuisance if it rains again, but put up with it for a couple of weeks. It shouldn't do any damage. When Dad gets back I'll get him to help me put a new downpipe to reduce the amount going through that gutter." Fair enough, although I'm not keen on the uncertainty of the "shouldn't" in that advice. We chatted about our travelling parents (Simon's dad is my mother's partner), and he was slightly miffed to discover that I've had postcard and he hasn't. Ha.
Back at work, we had a fascinating old time of it comparing lunches at, er, lunch today. We have recently purchased a microwave at work, which is a big hit with the soup fanciers, although it hasn't made much of a difference to the lives of those of us who prefer to bring sandwiches and heat them in the sandwich squisher. So go on, tell me: what did you/will you have for lunch today? I had a chicken and cheese sandwich on brown bread*, and a mandarin.
* Writing that, I just remembered a news report I saw a few weeks ago, in which a reporter asked an eyewitness to a fatal accident to describe his feelings. The witness, an elderly, leathery man who was so Australian that it hurt, said, "Oh, mate, I saw that and knew 'e was brown bread." Is it wrong to laugh at a description of someone's tragic demise?
The rain has stopped. We had more rain in the last three days than we did for all last winter. It does rather make a mockery of the water savings measures we have to go through. We've had so many public service announcements on the importance of catching and using the excess water in the shower or the cold water that comes out when the hot tap is heating up; I've stopped doing that this week because, frankly, I've got more than enough water already.
I found a second leak in the kitchen and called Simon, who came round and had a look. He stomped about on the roof for a bit before deciding that the problem was one gutter being overwhelmed by the expanse of roof and unusual volume of rain. "It'll be a nuisance if it rains again, but put up with it for a couple of weeks. It shouldn't do any damage. When Dad gets back I'll get him to help me put a new downpipe to reduce the amount going through that gutter." Fair enough, although I'm not keen on the uncertainty of the "shouldn't" in that advice. We chatted about our travelling parents (Simon's dad is my mother's partner), and he was slightly miffed to discover that I've had postcard and he hasn't. Ha.
Back at work, we had a fascinating old time of it comparing lunches at, er, lunch today. We have recently purchased a microwave at work, which is a big hit with the soup fanciers, although it hasn't made much of a difference to the lives of those of us who prefer to bring sandwiches and heat them in the sandwich squisher. So go on, tell me: what did you/will you have for lunch today? I had a chicken and cheese sandwich on brown bread*, and a mandarin.
* Writing that, I just remembered a news report I saw a few weeks ago, in which a reporter asked an eyewitness to a fatal accident to describe his feelings. The witness, an elderly, leathery man who was so Australian that it hurt, said, "Oh, mate, I saw that and knew 'e was brown bread." Is it wrong to laugh at a description of someone's tragic demise?