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I guess now our dough-faced premier (raw dough at that: pale and puffy. Truly, I never saw a brute I hated more) has another majority government, everyone thinks COVID is over and all rules are off. Half the people in Fiesta yesterday were maskless, including cashiers and stockers, and the waitress and cook at the corner restaurant were maskless as well. Shall not be going back in a hurry, and only partly because it's heavy rain today and tomorrow. I know I stayed inside for days at a time this winter but I'm out of the habit, especially since figuring out that I need to walk a minimum 20 minutes to loosen up. Hope the bike machine works as well.
I did start hacking through the instant jungle of the backyard today. Wish I had a proper machete, but the porta-saw worked well enough at levelling the knee-high quack grass that's growing around the little mulberry tree. Clippers were required for the vines that burden the fence and I pulled a goodly amount of that down too. This after yesterday cutting back the ground ivy or whatever in the front yard, that regularly encroaches on the path. Got about half of that cut out before my back said enough. But it seems I no longer get next day muscle spasms in the adductors from bending and pulling, which is progress.
I went out yesterday primarily to get a coffee, but also in search of a Little Free Library to unload some books off into. Didn't find any on my way there and back- the one on Markham no longer exists- but as I was returning from Fiesta I registered that there's one almost literally across the street from me. Which checked, and discovered three ancient green and white Penguin mysteries, from a writer I'd never heard of but hey, English mysteries of the golden age, I'll take them in return for my Rebuses. Flipped through looking for the blurb, which is on the inside front cover not the outside back, puzzled as to why it said Introducing a new detective Sir Henry Merrivale wut? because the middle volume isn't Thomas Sterling, it's Carter Dickson. Oh happy day! Am now set for the next 48 hours of monsoon.
I did start hacking through the instant jungle of the backyard today. Wish I had a proper machete, but the porta-saw worked well enough at levelling the knee-high quack grass that's growing around the little mulberry tree. Clippers were required for the vines that burden the fence and I pulled a goodly amount of that down too. This after yesterday cutting back the ground ivy or whatever in the front yard, that regularly encroaches on the path. Got about half of that cut out before my back said enough. But it seems I no longer get next day muscle spasms in the adductors from bending and pulling, which is progress.
I went out yesterday primarily to get a coffee, but also in search of a Little Free Library to unload some books off into. Didn't find any on my way there and back- the one on Markham no longer exists- but as I was returning from Fiesta I registered that there's one almost literally across the street from me. Which checked, and discovered three ancient green and white Penguin mysteries, from a writer I'd never heard of but hey, English mysteries of the golden age, I'll take them in return for my Rebuses. Flipped through looking for the blurb, which is on the inside front cover not the outside back, puzzled as to why it said Introducing a new detective Sir Henry Merrivale wut? because the middle volume isn't Thomas Sterling, it's Carter Dickson. Oh happy day! Am now set for the next 48 hours of monsoon.
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On the whole I agree. It doesn't help that this book practically starts at the murder trial. Can't see where we go from here.
There were several Churchills, of course, but the 1937 version is one I could do without.
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Serendipity is always nice when it happens.