Some taxi!

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My mum, 78 year old, uses public transport extensively.

The other day she wanted to get to a particular plant nursery and walked down to her nearby bus-stop.  A bus was there already and she asked the driver if he went past the nursery.

"Yes" he replied.  He then looked at his watch and said "Look, I don't start my next run for 20 min.  Hop in, I've got time, I'll take you there now."

And he did.

There are some wonderful people out there.
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The need for a new word.

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I love the English language but there is one word missing that it needs:

A word to describe the emotion that you feel when you get up in the morning, look in the mirror, and realise that you have been given a sh*t haircut.

Massacre at the tree of Mulberries

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Our mulberry tree is in full fruit at present.

The reason why you wont see them in the shops is that they are very delicate and difficult to pick without bruising and, consequently, getting a very red-purple stain on your hands.

But you had probably guessed that already, hadn't you?

But they were ideal fodder for the saucy part of our 'traditional' Halloween dessert of 'Mud, blood & poached brains'.

For the prosaic, this is dumplings with red berry sauce and chocolate ice-cream.

◊◊◊

The tree overhangs the footpath and we happily let people pick what they want, if they want. Some even come to the door and ask if they can.

Saddest question: Are they strawberries?
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Keep your head still!

I have watched the doves on our powerlines and their heads don't move when the line (and their body) does but I was fascinated by the extent of 'head-stillness' shown by this chook.
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