A rebel without a clue.

Dull this Thursday morning. At 5:30 am I rolled over, picked up the phone and switched it on - believing it to be earlier. Now I am considering running a bath and bathing this ape while Archie sleeps more. Just eaten the last of the porridge I made on Tuesday evening and had two coffees. Usual morning rituals: finishing off a podcast about cigarettes, smoking - Tobacco and Me in which I wonder at why some people have these kinds of meaningless crusades: people kill themselves a billion ways every day. In life we are also in death. If, in the 21st century, when we know all the damage 'things' do to us, we still kill ourselves faster, daily, what will ever change? Two nights of sobriety and I am righteous on my crusading while I sit and ponder the slowness of the water pressure in this abode... Free to do as we are told...

It's raining! And it's my sister's birthday 48 years old and doesn't look a day over 58... The lifestyle of the not so rich and not very famous? That's harsh Daniel... Happy birthday sister? But what is it that altered you so much into a stereotype? Age and circumstances. It's raining. A gentle rain it seems. *** Finally a proper dog walk. An hour and a half alongside Crowcroft Bank to Flintmill Grange and Spring Lane(back entrance to Wetherby Racecourse) and now both dogs are in post adventure sleepy mode. Lola and Archie had a zoomies/mad moment on one of the stubbly fields we passed through on our way to Flintmill Grange, but I had to slow Archie down and return him to the lead... His back end is too much of a concern - but he seems to have compensation for some definite weakness there...