Our delivery boy

I've been having trouble (have you noticed how many of my posts start like that?) with Blogger not uploading my photos. But it's finally done these two small ones. I think you can click on them to enlarge and get a better look: I didn't like to risk trying to persuade it to give me a bigger size.

Anyway the one on the left is our delivery 'boy'. I was getting worried watching him come up the steps as it looked as though he wasn't going to make it. He must be tougher than he looks though, wearing shorts in this weather. With black socks.

The photo on the right shows Betty's interior and her new seat cover. She only has one as I wanted to see if it fitted. And she won't be getting any more if she doesn't start behaving. We could all blame the cold weather for our sluggishness but most of us don't get away with it.

I think I would like a job as a millionaire. How does one go about applying?

I was sitting here typing away this morning when my hand started hurting. 'Ouch,' I said. I looked down and I had a cut on my hand. It looks just like the sort of jaggedy cut you get from a vicious bramble bush. I have no idea where it came from.

Yesterday Younger Son became aware of a pain in his hand and he too found a cut. His was bleeding profusely. Which wasn't good as he was knocking doors at the time and knocking on doors with a bleedin' hand isn't good door-to-door etiquette.

I suspect it is the work of an aggrieved fairy who is taking out her fury on innocent bystanders. As far as I am aware I haven't upset any fairies recently.

Have I mentioned Younger Son's bedroom? Really it's not the sort of thing I want to mention but I need to here to make the point of what I am saying. YS has my 'I'll just leave it here for now and put it away later' gene, and when one's bedroom is quite small, this leads to some - what only can be described as - mess.

He has been driving his work mates around recently as they've all been doing door-to-door-ing. His colleagues are eating in the car and leaving their rubbish there. YS complained to them. So next time they stopped and ate in the car, when they'd finished one of his colleagues opened the car door and put his rubbish outside. 'What are you doing?' YS remonstrated.

'You told me not to leave rubbish in your car.'

'Yes, but you're not supposed to leave it on the pavement! Bring it back in.'

I am very proud of my son.

xx