So, it’s summertime. Life’s easy. BBQ’s, whippy ice cream and getting sunblock in your eyes. We’m all chilling maxxing and relaxing – well maybe in Miami. Over here it’s a bit more of a faulty firework, a moist guff of a summer. Not hot, not wet, just sorta middle of the bloody English road. We definitely do mediocre better than anyone in the world, with the possible exception of the Belgians.
Someone lit the fuse at work though. As someone very wise once told me, be careful what you wish for. After three years of me banging a drum about things that need to be taken more seriously it seems someone finally listened. Trouble is, now I have to deliver… Doh.
Still, Joe’s broken up for school holidays, I’m off for a week in the sun and in between the work and school run madness that was June 2011 I got some fishing in with friends. Just a brief update here with a few pretty piccies for you really, not enough time or energy for a rant.
To paraphrase Mr William Smith Esq, this is the nadder-diary’s new definition of summer madness.
Peace out.
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The rambling mutterings of Malcolm Anderson. Squeaky wheel championing the re-wilding of the English Chalkstream.
