Mr Sandals came over yesterday, as Mirinda was leaving, and had a chat. He was tidying up the front garden in preparation for a family party on Saturday, he said. We had a pleasant chat about Sweden and living across a number of different countries, something that he and his wife had discussed now the kids have gone.
His wife is one of those odd people who don’t like me. I don’t know why. Mirinda thinks it’s quite funny. Having told Mr Sandals that we were leaving in less than a month, I could imagine the joy his wife would feel, knowing I’d not be forcing her to say hello when passing me in the park. Or have to put up with Emma’s barking.
22 Days to go
Today was more about admin than anything the neighbours needed be concerned about. Mirinda had a meeting regarding Portugal while I was busy scanning and shredding, at the same time listening to the cricket which saw Australia take the game by the horns and subjugate it. The so-called BazBall method had no effective answer. The match was interrupted by rain a bit but not enough to dampen Aussie spirits.
I also transferred some more photos across to Zen.
By the time I reached Reading Hour, I was ready to drown myself in the Crusades.
Reading hour happened to coincide with BeReal today, so I posted the photo below which prompted a lively discussion with Luke regarding the use of the word ‘posh’ on products. He contends that the use of this word tends to gravitate more to the other end of the spectrum. I agreed to some extent, suggesting that calling pork scratchings Plebs, while probably being more accurate, may not sell as many.
On the other hand, Nicktor responded by suggesting there wasn’t enough rum in the glass and that I’d need a book for Reading Hour. I didn’t bother pointing out the obvious.
