Week 30 Recap: Week off for Annual Leave

Five days off. How would you have used it?

Monday

I organised space for shed building supplies that were imminently due for delivery. I moved two pallets for the sand and aggregates to a spot near the shed foundation pour site and laid boards nearer the house to stack the lumber. Out front, I broke up and extracted a couple square meters of 3 inch thick concrete that used to cover the front garden soil. A similar return-to-the-land effort is slated out back over the next few weeks (although the front may get done using some Victorian tiling…stay tuned).

On a break, I caught up with the blogs of some old friends with the best post coming from our Brownie reviewing the Nuns of Brixton show a few weeks back. Another personal fave — but only because of an incident that slowly killed itself over the coarse of a few years (or was it only months? time is a motherfucker, ain’t it?) –is back online, and I hope it finds its old legs.

Cooked Rad Prik Prawns with fried onions and sautéed cabbage.Drink may have been involved.

Tuesday:

Jackie was also off work, Tuesday, and helped transfer the lumber part of the building supplies delivery from the street to the back garden (not a euphimism). We shifted two 6 foot by 6 foot fence panels, 75 framing studs, 20 sheets of 4 by 8 foot plywood(some cladding with a bit of thick stuff for flooring and roofing), 35 x 32 kg (about 70 pounds) bags of gravel, 25 by 36 kg (80-ish pounds) of sand, and 10 bags of bone dry cement (20 kg — 44 pounds). Crossfit can suck a bag of dicks (I know I said that earlier this week, but it bears repeating…not just because Marjorie Taylor Greene is a proponent).

Salmon, spinach, and soft cheese with herbs in filo dough (a Salmon en croute, if you will) and a Gavi after a British dry white wine starter. Or ,what passes for dry. Drink may have been involved.

Wednesday: The weather forecast only gave me a few clear hours to do any outdoor work so I focused on the pointing in the back wall. The rain came, as expected, between noon and 5. Intermittent but occasionally heavy, it put the kibosh on plans to pour the slab and I settled in to some of the detail work in the house (there is always plenty to do).

Roasted a turkey breast for panini but drink was not involved.

Thursday: A break in the rain allowed the long awaited concrete pour. I set aside 5 hours but the mud was mixed and crudely spread in just under 3 including a beer break at roughly the halfway point.

Started at 9:20, this photo at 10:40, last of the initial rough screeding at 12:15.

I had to pick up a darby and some other stuff at Screwfix and decided to document the adverts along the tramline (tramverts). The BooHoo girls went up in January and the SheinToff one a few weeks later. These are at almost every stop and if the longevity of others before them is any guide these will continue to dominate the daily commute for 6-10 months longer. I’ll update tramverts as they appear:

Knackered at the end of the day (there was still a lot of finishing to do after the terrifyingly mad rush of the initial pour), we had an Indian takeaway feast.

Drink was most certainly involved.

Friday: Little to do in the morning, I pulled the stakes off the forms and hosed off the top of the slab but needed to stay inside or very close to the house until the skip delivery. Drink may have been involved.

30 minutes after it was dropped

Saturday: We started loading the rest of the skip first thing. Overnight some cock sucker left a rolled up pink carpet in the skip. Ass monkey.

I made a pizza for supper. Drink may have been involved.

5 continuous hours of loading later

Sunday: Shirking and recovering from whole body muscle aches. Made a pot of broth. Fish tacos for supper. Drink may have been involved.

Fines and fees: £44.50 Mileage: a scant 25.

2020 Commute 101 of 52 (To): News Crawler – “PCFS”

One year ago today marked my first commute run from the new house. Three more in 2019 then 101 so far this year. But, I’m going to reminisce a bit further back.

In Atlanta around 1986 or so, everywhere you went there was a repeating sharpie tag on bathroom walls (and sidewalks and on abandoned cars and once on a billboard over the Downtown Connector in spray can) that read, “Kurt is a homo.”

What was funny about it was this was Atlanta in 1986 or so and EVERYONE was a homo EXCEPT maybe Kurt. At least in the incestuous circles of the bar and music industry in the Midtown/Emory/Decatur corridor.

Funnier still, it bothered Kurt who while not a homo (and, just who would fuck him, anyway?) was a prick.

Oh, I think Mr Poundsign has been outed.

Namysłów Pils — Neighbourhood Beer Tour #46

Two roads diverged in a wood and I took the one on the right, and that has made all the difference.  Because, that’s the shortest route back to the house.

Namysłów Pils is alright.  Generic, Polish beer.

The girl who’s To Do List this is needs a proofreader (she left the “i” out of “Daily”).

October 2019 Run Review and Excess Photo Dump

On the back side of the run through Yardley and Acocks Green I passed a pond with at least a hundred geese on it. I stopped to marvel at the vast collection of my spirit animal and they, in turn, came marching deliberately my way. They may have just wanted bread, but I felt a sense of communion.

First, the stats…

Miles: 173.6 miles
Runs: 21
Avg:  8.3 miles
Long: 22.3 miles
Pubs on runs: 15, and total: 21
Best pub: Big Bull’s Head in Digbeth but this was a good month
Worst:  No, none of them were so bad I wouldn’t want to go back.  Next question!

As the world tumbles toward the end of the human race, England is also rapidly becoming a post-race society.  Not sure which will happen first, but I’m sure the term “high yellow” will not be used to indicate the inheritors of one or the other … not due to any level of wokeness but simply because no one of my generation who has ever used the term (at either end of the monochrome spectrum) will have survived the coming environmental apocalypse.  So, one morning commute run when I passed Saffron House, the name on the building which probably houses substantial numbers of last-tick-box-on-the-census-citizens amused me in a way that I should probably be ashamed of (but I’m not, relic of bygone days that I am — clues to the guilt behind the joke are provided in this Nina Simone track I’ve had rattling around my head since then).

This time a year ago I had just come out of a deep, dark tunnel.  Metaphors abound.  The Ashted Tunnel, above, is near Birmingham City University and was on my “Journey’s End Run.”  The Brandwood Tunnel is on the Stratford-upon-Avon Canal not too far east of where it connects to the Worcs-and-Brum Canal (photo from the “Crown Lunch Run”).

Managed to run through one of the smallest parks in Brum (Redhill Pocket Park) and several larger ones:

This fantastic water fountain had run dry on the Smethwick Abbey run but was still worth a wee investigation:

Before a train ride to a pub on a non-running day, this sign appeared before me on the platform:

The longest run of the month was also the longest since 9 December 2017: 22.3 miles lost in the cold, torrential rains of 26 October (19-20 miles were intended but soggy maps proved useless).  Felt good to go long for a change even with the knee deep wading through ice cold standing waters. The four pub stops (run write-up is more complete there at White Swan, Red Lion, P of F, and the Drawbridge)  helped recover the core temperature on this one, as well.

Another month in the books, this one ending NOT with Brexit but with Halloween.  I returned from Sheffield the evening before Halloween and spotted the #666 bus to Ghoulsville (via Hell and Back) passing my stop.  Someone at West Midlands Transport has a sense of humour.

Barbershop and Gay Bar Names

I mentioned pun names for barbers as we strode past the Headmaster in Seven Sisters.  I’ve pointed out the homoerotic nature of these at least twice, before (here and here and to a lesser extent here), so it wasn’t a surprise when she said it sounded like a leather bar.  At that moment across the street I spotted a lesbian equivalent: