Another flying visit. Fishing was a bust, the sun came out in all its fury and since fish don’t have eyelids, they all went deep. No interest in deep-sunk wet flies either. All I came back with was sunburn – I am now, and for a few more days at least, The Incredible Lobster Man. I think I’ll call myself Zoidberg.

No end of ‘Have you been out in the sun?’ questions at work., The first one I answered ‘yes’, the second ‘no, it’s rust’, the third ‘I have just remembered all the things I did while drunk and am suffering terminal embarrasment’, the fourth ‘Erisypelas’. I’ll need to think of more for tomorrow.

No time for a long post. Instead, here are some other people’s commentaries on the size of modern Britain – the Blimp Brigade of Edinburgh and the vet who forgot to feed her dog.

As for me, no trout dinner this evening. I slummed it with chicken pakora on the way home and a plate of spiced-up scampi later. Why am I not fat?

Well, because I don’t do that every day…


9 thoughts on “Flashblog

  1. I’m surprised you avoided, “The sun? No, I spent the last few evenings helping clean up an airplane that had been carrying some sort of plague victims from Mongolia.”

    Heck, might’ve even gotten you a few days off!



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