As I walked into Farnham this morning, I’d not long left our street when I started smelling something foul. It was as if someone was burning a disgusting mass of lethal plastic, hair and green leaves. The smell didn’t vanish for the entire half mile walk along the path.
When I reached the end of the path and the beginning of the lane I found out what was irritating everyone’s noses and throats. The house that backs onto the park, the one owned by the person who wanted to turn the alley into his own private driveway, was burning off his foulness.
The smoke was so thick it was like a hell fog, risen from the infernal depths. This photo hardly does it justice.
This isn’t the first time, though it’s possibly the worst. He burns his rubbish quite regularly and, just as regularly, the smoke falls over the brick wall and suffocates anyone who walks or jogs by. Of course the guy doing the polluting has no idea (or just doesn’t care) because the smoke just disappears from his side of the wall. He might think differently if the smoke went back into his house.
A chap coming from the opposite direction remarked that it felt a little bit too early for such an evil conflagration. I agreed with him as our paths crossed.
Smoke and brimstone aside, the day was spent mostly doing housework, using the new washing line before dismantling it before Mirinda arrived home and taking the girls for a walk.
Freya had no problem walking in the park though she is still in season. Her limp was hardly in evidence though she still isn’t running. I think she needs her confidence building up again. She’s just like Day-z. If something doesn’t work, never try it again. Idiot dog.
Anyway, the park was lovely apart from the smelly collie that I keep unsuccessfully avoiding.