Life in a small town.

My Incomplete Reading List, I can't recall everything. My supply of new books has been curtailed through lack of space. The up side of this is that I've been re-reading books quite a lot this year. The list also shows a lack of focus on any particular genre. I seem to be leaving a recent Greek phase and looking for something else.

Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood
The wind up bird by Haruki Murakami
2 Dan Browns (Unwanted ...

Mad Friday! The last Friday before Christmas, when all the local workers have their Christmas "do". All the pubs and restaurants of our little town are full of chrismas parties. The celebrants spill over onto the street and mingle with the local youth. A general pub crawl ensues. There is fighting, dancing, singing, fancy dress, snogging, throwing up and passing out. The girls from the Co-op hurl insults at the hairdressers from the high street, egged on by the lads from the tyre fitters. ...

Comedian's gardening thread put me in mind of my Mum. She's a gardener, untrained and instinctive. Her house is on an ex council estate that boasts an example of every kind of The English Garden within it. A common “look” there is overgrown-with-attractive-rotting-sofa-feature. another favourite concept is the weedy- lawn- full-of-kids- toys. Getting more and more popular is the flagged-over-for-parking, also the wooden decking-with-outdoor-pots-and-built-in-barbie mark the encroachments of ...

My wife and daughter are fully paid up members of the cult of the Horse. So last weekend I was dragged along to the Thoroughbred Rehabilitation Centre open day, in North Lancashire. The TRC is a small charity
that does exactly what you'd expect from the title, it takes in thoroughbreds, mainly from the racing industry and sorts them out, enabling them to lead a useful life off the track.

To be honest there was not a lot going on, a few stalls, a tombola, a guess the name ...

Thats it! I am officially declaring lambing over. Now once again I can enjoy the boon of sleep.
I can slide between crisp white sheets, read a page or two of the current book, and drift away. I shall switch off my internal alarm clock and allow the dawn to wake me at its leisure.
My porridge can be cooked slowly to soften and thicken, the golden syrup allowed to melt from the spoon completely. Then after a second cup of tea I'll head outside and see what's what.