Nothing better to do that day

Firstly I must welcome my newest Dear Follower from the Hill Country of Texas. I wonder if we listen to the same radio station (92.1 KNBT).
This map is a little inaccurate as we all know about the sticky-out bit of Florida, the green hills of Tennessee, the dull infinities of Kansas, Big Muddy River, Aliensville New Mexico, er .....

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In the next exciting instalment of "What lies forgotten in your loft?" I offer 'The Oil Rig'. The 1970's 'North Star' drilling platform, seen here in port prior to deployment, is a rather unique 2 ft by 3 ft black and white photo, mounted on thick board. If it wasn't mounted I'd have rolled it up and tried to Ebay it for Lego money. It was rescued after being abandoned outside a house in Southsea in 1989: the glass-fronted frame held photos for many years, but now Jof says it's just too old to keep.
Another relaxed day with Jof in which she was harassed by surveyors who never phoned back. Then one of them came round unexpectedly and surveyed the house.
We went to Victoria Park and fed the already terminally obese and immovable guinea pigs and rabbits. I climbed round all of the rope obstacles without touching the hot lava and we rescued a small boy who had frozen with fear half way up the watchtower.

It has been said that any day that passes without doing at least one strange thing is a day wasted. So he made me go round to Ben's house and help him deliver some Chinese Pear trees, making good on an old promise and getting rid of some stuff from the garden. I really didn't want to go but then it was really fun. I remembered to post Ben's football card through the front door.

Then Ben's bumpy paths beckoned. I set off to find the pond by the road (which is more to do with waterlogging than actual pondery) and after avoiding many dogs we found it. Sadly gymnastics wasn't too long away so we sped back, diverging when we met a fork in the path. His path was efficient. Mine was less so, so I took a shortcut through the long grass and fell into a chasm of brambles and slashed open my leg and got a handful of javelin-like thorns.

Back at home, out came the tweezers to remove the little splinters and there is nothing more determined to run away than a boy with splinters. I did a passable impression of Rambo not having his fingerprints taken and elected to leave the giant branches impaling my finger, condemning myself to eternal gangrene. Then of course we met Beelzebub's personal traffic jam and were 8 minutes late for Gym, but at least I got my Badge # 5 at last.