coastal developments

We went to Western last Monday. This was the result:

21 in total. One heartlessly crushed by a passing tourist. Or a local. Hard to tell which.

Arlo likes sand.

the last two weeks – a pictorial record

We’ve had the decorators in. Adam, Molly, Emily and Mel. Huzzah.

We have a posh front room

We have a posh kitchen

...and then some of the new plaster on Arlo's ceiling came down.

In case you can't make it out, the red picture in the corner says 'Keep Calm and Carry On'

...so Arlo did.

the triumph of nature and music

carrot and guitar are actual size

Maybe a new model for the statue of liberty?

Captain Flack’s Latest Triumph

the firemen swiftly respond to Arlo's need for stickers on a cardboard box

view from trumpton police helicoptor

mysterious cake mistake

So here’s the thing. Me and Arlo walk back up the road and see a piece of cake on the pavement. It’s a chocolate praline thing, I’m fairly certain, Arlo’s less certain, but either way I assure him we’re not going to try eating it or touching it right now. Leave it to the pidgeons.

Then today………….

lost cake?

Now, it’s tricky to see from here, but that could be gateaux. Chocolate again with a neat splash of sauce over it.

So without the aid of CCTV I posit a sad tale of a person with a penchant for sweet stuff [can't believe they won the Mercury prize by the way - complete tangent here but that's a surprise - just announced.]

…so this person keeps going to Hennessys, keeps going to the local bakery, confectioners – actually got to be Hennessys given the quality of the cake on the floor. I mean, your average sandwich won’t stand up to much abuse – drop it on the floor and it’s crumbs all over the place. Slightest drizzle and it’s gone. Believe me I’ve seen it happen.

And this person really really likes the cake soooo much they’re treasuring it. They’re not eating it in the cafe, they’re not even guzzling it on the way home, or saving a bit for later. This is a significant portion and goddam it they’re going to have it in the comfort of their own home.

And then, every time, same place something happens. Maybe they sneeze, suddenly overcome by the dust from the building work in number 27. Maybe someone from the pub, aware of their love of cake keeps on doing the same practical joke – wait till they’re thirty paces away and shout “CAKE FACE” and watch them drop the prize. Maybe there’s something odd about the magnetic fields in that part of the path that will allow no cake to pass. (Although our Battenburg and occasional packet of Bourbons appear immune.)

Either way. Every time. Same old story. Same cake mistake.

Weird.

Unless that’s actually pate I’ve taken a pic of.

oh, ok, i will then

Just to reassure what readers there are out there that I am still alive. Hurray!

Want to rant about Trumpton.

The fact that the Mayor is watching the Wire each night on his set top box as long as Tooms(sp?) has set the video right. Dora Minton and Ms Cobbett are in lurve and only Ms Lovelace knows about it, her being a confident of Ms Cobbett and everything. Captain Flack holds a secret ambition to be a TV News Presenter and the lost episode where the firemen just go to the swimming pool instead. The grumpy park keeper / cleaner could have been a prize boxer but took a fall for money in the third round and is now condemned to walking around with a spike looking for yet another piece of cardboard…

But I haven’t the time.

Sorry. More soon.