It’s the hump of the week!
Wednesdays are interesting. Expecially around lunchtime. By the time you’re reached lunchtime, you’ve kinda dragged yourself up the hump of the week and are teetering on the summit seeing the vast expanse of Thursday and Friday zooming away at your feet toward the weekend. So, without further ado, we should let out a cry of “Geranium!” and charge headlong into the gravitationally accelerative part of the week.
Or something.
Last night was leafletting night. Myself and some other members of the local SNP group spent part of the evening charging around Newtongrange poking newsletters through letterboxes in preparation for the local elections at the end of this month. Seems to be quite a good response too – many die hard labour supporters are beginning to realise that New Labour aren’t the same party their fathers voted for.
But, politicking aside, it was a lovely day yesterday – lots of lovely warm sunshine – unusual for Spring in this part of the world, but who am I to complain? The sun was out, the birds were singing and bob the dog stretched and went off in search of his breakfast.
And speaking of dogs, I was almost eaten by a white german shepherd last night. I was dropping a leaflet through a letter box when this thunderous bellow came from the back garden. “Eep!” thought I, “sounds like a big dug!”. Fortunately there was only an unfeasibly small slot in the fence for it to squeeze through, so I considered myself safe. A bad tactical mistake – one must never underestimate the elastic properties of big dugs. Anyway, the dug in question came charging through the gap in the fence and galloped right at me. By this time, I had broken the sound barrier getting out of the garden and shutting the gate. The owner came out to see what the noise was and reassured me that “ach, he’s dead gentle – wouldny hurt a fly”. Well, that was a relief – here was me thinking it was a self propelled engine of teeth and death too. That’s certainly what it looked like.
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