It was the usual Friday morning chumble down by the Nidd Gorge today with mad cousin Paddy, followed by a nice sleep in the sunshine in the garden. Barked at the postman, the man posting flyers for the local Indian takeaway and the bloke offering us cheaper electricity than the rest. That's the third one this week. I'm sure it's the same bloke you know, he just puts a different jumper on each day. "Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be Scottish Power." Rag and bone men seem to have made a comeback in these recessionary times I've noticed. Well, when I say rag & bone men, in the old days they used to offer you a few bob for your old cooker. Nowadays they just take it when the backdoor is open, the dirty thieving gyppos. "I'm sorry, I thought that as you'd left this brand new BMW on your drive that you probably didn't want it guvnor chim chiminey don'tyaknow. You just don't understand our country travelling ways. So what if I want to live on a roundabout, it's a free country. Lucky heather mister? Oooh, that driveway's a mess innit mate, it just so 'appens I've got ten tonnes of tarmac left over from another job like. It's yours for a monkey. Knees up Muva Brown, kness up Muva Brown. Come, come, come and make eyes at me down at the Old Bull & Bush..."
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.