18th August 2017
I hate digital magazines. I like nothing more than flipping the pages of a glossy, but I also hoard them. I don’t like to throw them away, so a small stack slowly build into tall stacks, then multiple stacks, then suddenly they start to cut out the light.
Today I had to say goodbye to my magazine mountains and take the to the recycling place.
I loaded them into the back of the car, and headed to the city dump. “Closed on Fridays” the sign on the gate stated, so that put an end to that. Where else could I take them? I remembered that the local supermarket had recycling pods, I’ll Take them there.
Just as I got there, the heavens opened directly above the recycling pods. A perfect dark cloud full of thick rain, hovered over me. Like a wimp I waited in the car, hoping that it would pass. Eventually all the windows misted up, so rather than being the subject of some perverted adult activity, I made a dash to the supermarket. My purchases could have been construed as some weird fetish field trip, with black plastic bags, black sticky tape and string. Stangely aware of the possibility, I lightened it a bit with some bananas, tomatoes and cucumbers. I think I got away with it.
The end of crappy day was heightened by dinner with Helen R. We went to the Bunch of Grapes in Bradford on Avon. I had trout, my first bite contained a load of bones. I had a dilemma, should I choke to death like a gentleman would, or should I spit it out as if nothing had happened. I decided the latter, I think I got away with it. Death has a habit of being a dampener on an evening.
Another Lifetime to go 