Remembering Spider Fred
So up, fairly early, and finished work on my pamphlet for the Cinnamon competition, and sent it off. Remembering Paul Valery: a poem is never really finished only abandoned. However at least I met my self-imposed target which was good. You never know your luck.
While Lorraine was speaking at length to insurance people about the snowy sliding bumps in February, I spoke to Mum who had texted me that she had just found out that Spider Fred had died in December when she randomly googled him. I knew him as a child, as he was a great chum of Gerald my stepfather, and I was lucky enough to be taken out by him spider collecting. We drove out to a disused railway siding and put trays under bushes, and shook the bushes until the spiders rained down into the trays. These were then efficiently sucked up with a rubber tube with a glass end, and a filter made out of stockings material. A fascinating day. He had draws of spider specimens at home too. Once home I tried sucking up a large fly, but had neglected to put in the stocking material so simply sucked it right into my mouth. A nice man, who didn't talk down to children. Mum said some of the spiders he classified were named after his daughters.
Then an interlude of cat business. Due to persistent burglary by a black and white cat, who also bullies Calliope and Brian, we discovered our cat flap was broken. Lorraine and I bought a new one, and attached it to the door and poked our cats through so their chips were read. The way is barred.
Lorraine noticed that the Qashqai has a chip on its windscreen she picked up yesterday driving to the gym. Gah.
Lorraine and I spent the afternoon mooching about in Brighton. I bought a v-necked jumper, a teeshirt that turned out too small from fat face but fit Lorraine sweetly, a sweatshirt on sale from M&S for £7.99 and three cheap teeshirts from Sports Direct where Lorraine bought some gym shoes. She also bought a sports bra in M&S. Call me Sherlock Holmes, but I detect that she seems to be going quite sporty all of a sudden. Home by bus, the sunlight spotlighting cranes and buildings, against a really leaden sky.
Home and off to Cuckfield for a curry with Jess and Andrew at Spice Village their local curry house. Had a nice relaxed time in there, Jess going to become a grandmother in October. Andrew seeming unburdened and cheery, having been released back into the wild by the medics after his valves replaced late last year. All good. Back to their house for coffee. I'm not one for dogs, but their little cockapoo Winnie has a wining personality.
Home in the Qashqai, and started watching Aliens V Predators, but had to go to bed instead.
While Lorraine was speaking at length to insurance people about the snowy sliding bumps in February, I spoke to Mum who had texted me that she had just found out that Spider Fred had died in December when she randomly googled him. I knew him as a child, as he was a great chum of Gerald my stepfather, and I was lucky enough to be taken out by him spider collecting. We drove out to a disused railway siding and put trays under bushes, and shook the bushes until the spiders rained down into the trays. These were then efficiently sucked up with a rubber tube with a glass end, and a filter made out of stockings material. A fascinating day. He had draws of spider specimens at home too. Once home I tried sucking up a large fly, but had neglected to put in the stocking material so simply sucked it right into my mouth. A nice man, who didn't talk down to children. Mum said some of the spiders he classified were named after his daughters.
Then an interlude of cat business. Due to persistent burglary by a black and white cat, who also bullies Calliope and Brian, we discovered our cat flap was broken. Lorraine and I bought a new one, and attached it to the door and poked our cats through so their chips were read. The way is barred.
Lorraine noticed that the Qashqai has a chip on its windscreen she picked up yesterday driving to the gym. Gah.
Lorraine and I spent the afternoon mooching about in Brighton. I bought a v-necked jumper, a teeshirt that turned out too small from fat face but fit Lorraine sweetly, a sweatshirt on sale from M&S for £7.99 and three cheap teeshirts from Sports Direct where Lorraine bought some gym shoes. She also bought a sports bra in M&S. Call me Sherlock Holmes, but I detect that she seems to be going quite sporty all of a sudden. Home by bus, the sunlight spotlighting cranes and buildings, against a really leaden sky.
Home and off to Cuckfield for a curry with Jess and Andrew at Spice Village their local curry house. Had a nice relaxed time in there, Jess going to become a grandmother in October. Andrew seeming unburdened and cheery, having been released back into the wild by the medics after his valves replaced late last year. All good. Back to their house for coffee. I'm not one for dogs, but their little cockapoo Winnie has a wining personality.
Home in the Qashqai, and started watching Aliens V Predators, but had to go to bed instead.
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