Home Alone ...ish

This morning 30% headed North to Manchester for three days leaving me to my own devices. TP is here too but in his teenage years he resembles an old cat, in that he spends as much time as possible on his bed and smells vaguely unpleasant. He therefore makes up the "ish" qualification to the title of today's entry.

I started the day by throwing a Beef Balti together and left it to simmer in the slow cooker before attending to many happy hours of Piano Moving. The main objective for today was to finish entering my half year results in to the Appraisal System. As usual this was a perfect example in procrastination and I swear there were points in the day where I literally had to chastise myself out loud and divert me back to my primary task. I eventually hit the submit button in the early afternoon and basked in a metaphorical sunbeam that suddenly brightened my day.

A few calls later the working day ended and I headed out around the Three Miler with T&M. I arrived back with sufficient time to relax for forty minutes before assembling dinner for me and the cat! The evening saw yet another failed attempt to capture one of the chickens that has escaped and taken up residence in a neighbours garden.*

I can also report the recent construction of a to do list. Anyone whose life is sufficiently impoverished life that they read this on a regular basis will know that these get drawn up from time to time at The Pile in an attempt to maintain progress on refurbishment of The Pile and also to prevent the establishment of embryonic hoards.** Today I made an initial foray on to the list and listed a single item on the global flea market that is better known as eBay.

Who know how many people out there need an aluminium jerry can holder for a modular roof rack system but I guess I will find out in ten days time.

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* The damned thing escaped well over a week ago and I swear that that it has gone native and can occasionally be glimpsed with a distant look in its eyes and camouflage paint on it's beak emerging from a bivouac in her borders. Thus far we have made three attempts to catch the thing and I can report that a) it is bloody quick and b) the six foot deep, tangled fucking mess she calls borders give it one hell of an advantage when it comes to evading capture. We have located its nest and my plan was to capture it at dusk but the bloody thing is incredibly alert and you cannot get anywhere near it. Before you ask, or suggest,  I was all for shooting it with an air gun a few days ago!
** See Saturday's entry and the reference to two antique, hand cranked sheep shears if you have any doubts.