There was more overnight sick from Dotty.
Oh dear.
She’s not very well. I rearranged the plans for the day. An appointment for the vets was made. Weird Wiv was full until next week. The best we could manage was a late afternoon slot at the Hythe.
I spent the working morning with Dotty. She seemed to settle down, sleeping on the bed. I took the MacBook Air upstairs and worked alongside her.
I felt guilty neglecting Daisy. But she’s fine. Give her food at regular intervals and she’s happy.
Album of the Day: Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
The stunning vocals work well against the cold synth sound. I might have enjoyed this better as a guitar album - but that’s the whole point of Eurythmics, right?
It’s not exactly a masterpiece or anything to come back for apart from the singles. I didn’t know Green Garside was involved.
⭐ ⭐
The Postman Delivers: New Order’s Movement and Low-Life, and the Penguin Cafe Orchestra’s debut. I’m almost in the black for my CD expenditure spreadsheet for this month. Premium Bond Reveal Day can’t come quick enough.
Another garden tidy up took place over lunchtime. We’ve reached the stage in the season where this is a twice a week effort. It almost makes me nostalgic for those threadbare winter days when the garden retreats.
I had plans to transport some elephant ears plants back down to Sunny Stockwell. We think they would be ideal for the dry, exposed South Lambeth Road front garden.
But they seem so happy and healthy out in the bloody Estuary Wilds. We haven’t seen them growing anywhere else before we moved here. They’re bloody everywhere. Maybe it’s a NE Essex thing?
I couldn’t be arsed to take them on the train and then take a chance with them on the mean streets of SW8. If I really want some then I can always have them delivered to Sunny Stockwell.
A returned back from The Oval. A disappeared to the vet with Dotty.
Dotty is a worry.
I listed another batch of reggae 12″s on eBay. Dancehall isn’t for me. I think I’m due a new stylus on my turntable. Either that or early ’90s reggae 12″s were pressed high up in the mix.
A and Dotty returned from the vet. All seemed fine. Her heart, temperature, gums and stomach were all checked. I fear the temperature check involved a thermometer up the arse.
To Sunny Stockwell! …early evening.
I didn’t want to go tbh. I’d rather stay in the bloody Estuary Wilds with A and the cats. But someone has to pay for these vet check ups.
Hey hoe.
I listened to the Titan submersible presser on the train journey into LS. This story troubles me. It’s the urgency and Hollywood like storyline that is compelling for all the wrong reasons.
The scenery on the train passed from midweek village cricket to Romford suburbia. Soon as I what at LS. It’s quite a culture clash making the transition from the bloody Estuary Wilds to Ldn each fortnight.
A gocycle G4i passed me along Clapham Road. It looked cool as fuck. A massive new phone mast has also gone up next to Dorset Road whilst I’ve been away in the past two weeks.
S Ldn. Always on the move.
