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Eating meat off the bone.
Thousands of years of civilisation, hundreds of years of engineering development and we are still expected to scrape and pick at bits of skeleton to fuel ourselves.
I’m not a bloody caveman.

Stayed at a place near York a for a few days. We were leaving for Cornwall so asked if they would serve breakfast at 8:00 so we could make an earlier start. It was only 30 mins before there normal start which, to be fair, is the latest breakfast start I’ve ever heard of. Well, the genial host who had been the life and soul of the place looked like I’d just insulted his mother when I asked and in the morning was nowhere to be seen.
I’m so tempted to give a glowing review online and finish with ‘were very happy to serve early meals when we asked - nothing was too much trouble.’

For all you paranoid agoraphobic shoppers out there.
https://youtu.be/_1btDc5xJe0

That’s amazing!

‘Remove outer sleeve and film lid’
20 mins later I had just enough energy to reach up from the floor and take this photo..

Routine has always been a challenge for me insomuch as I would usually forget something mundane and commonplace each day - say, underarm deodorant, tooth clean, wallet - that would send me dashing back up the stairs, into the house or worse still; turning the bike round and pedalling unnecessary extra hundreds of metres.
Middle age, however, turns this safety match flicker of a habit into a Hindenburg blaze.
The worst example of this is packing the car with bikes and gear for an off-road day in the hills. I WILL forget and make individual return trips for at least four of the following:
Gloves
Helmet
Water bottle
Pump
Tool kit
Shoes
Jacket
Tubes (always have one on the bike but often it’s a dead one from a previous incident)
Shades
Grub
If this list wasn’t extensive enough I recently added a jet wash to the indispensable must-have toys.
If I wasn’t so absent minded I would have realised before I hit the ‘buy it now’ key the I would never remember to take the effing thing.

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Cyclist speak...
Baths that are not long enough to soak your neck and knees at the same time. I mean, what else aches on a regular basis?
Frankly, why bother? Just have a shower.

Pianist. I mean, was there ever a more easy to giggle-to word for a serious occupation?
Surely there could have been a better piano derivative?

A bag of peanuts, raisins and chocolate chips from Safeway, along with a pint of milk was my must-have lunch at college.
Not too tolerant of milk and nuts these days.
Hmmmm [gives thoughtful, skyward glance while rubbing chin]

Saw a combination of these two knob-hobbies (and riding no handed) from one guy whilst I was waiting at a junction behind a cop car. The lights changed and the cops turned in the same direction as the rider and just drove straight past him.

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Lovely, still evening here so I decided to include a deserted beach in my COVID isolation time.

With cottage cheese, jam or extra strong cheddar.

Today’s stories are bought to you by the colour orange.
1: My ex was a Health Visitor and one infant she was asked to see was a rival for David Dickinson in the skin shade department. At an age when breast milk was recommended this child was being fed entirely on orange juice.
2: My sister as a child had a favourite drink that was a 50:50 mix of orange squash and milk.

It’s good at many things but tearing in the direction you want it to is not one of them.

Got to hand it to Nestle. Stroke of genius calling a bog-standard chocolate mousse an ‘Aero mousse’ grabbing the must-have factor in the populace and charging a premium price.
I mean, what’s the chocolate bar equivalent of a mousse, if not an Aero bar?

Ah, Teesside. Glad to see the back of the place.
Now that I think of it, over the years I’ve shuffled further and further away. Move any further and I’d be a foreigner.

Biting the inside of my lip.
God knows what’s changed in the last 3 years but it’s suddenly (in my mid fifties) become a regular habit when eating.
Damn, it hurts the first time.....but the second....and third. Dear god!

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Fog = cloud that has lost the will to fly.

My smart meters.
Too damn smart for me.
Too many buttons in sequence to remember how to display anything remotely informative and even then it’s not something useful like units consumed since the last bill.
In short, post price hike, the power companies have carte blanche to charge me what they please and I won’t have a clue if I’m being shafted.

Leaving a hospital after visiting someone who is there, for the rest of their days, not by carelessness or disrespect for their own long-term health, but only for inheriting a few bad genes, only to have to steer a wonky path and hold my breath through a throng of smokers who have enough energy to haul themselves through wards, corridors and reception but no further than cough and spluttering distance of each entrance.

And that coat. I wondered what happened to my sofa.

Related (and to be fair, something that happens rarely now that everything is on google); people who ask you for directions and when you answer them willingly, accurately and with a helpful, encouraging tone of voice give you a look as if you are lying and sending them to a blind alley where they will be mugged and wake up with a few less vital organs.