Today (yesterday by now) we ventured out into the garden and cut up the badly behaved mutant plum tree, we healed the broken branches with a session of drastic outdoor surgery, we cut into the wood with a gentle saw, ignored the feasting wasps, the rain and the wind and did the dirty deed. Now we have a smaller tree, fewer plums, a pile of damp fuel in the fire pit but it’s all now neater and possibly healthier. All in all our policy around here is to accept the mutant trees, encourage them, mentor them and scoff any decent fruit the mutant trees might produce, in that process we may well change the world and make it a better place. So that’s the plums sorted for a kick off. The apple tree remains a challenge, knotty and cantankerous in broods in the corner, spitting out pre-bruised fruit and holding it as high in it’s gnarled branches as possible, I’ve no idea how to fix this. The cherry tree is stunted and a little infertile, pale pink hard cherries are all we get. I suspect we may need to bring out the donkey manure. The other two younger apple trees are in their own wee world and need counselling, I think they’ve lost their tree identities somewhere but sadly I don’t speak the language nor do I whisper it. They remain close but mysteriously out of reach. There are other trees but we don’t feel the need to talk to them just yet.
Dunfermline V Hibs was always a game to look forward to and yesterday the great day dawned. Hibs are rubbish with a tactically naive manager and a baffled set of players and under achievers. We should have cuffed them 4 - 2 on the day but we struggled to pull a draw out of the black and white bunnet, next time it‘ll be different.
I like steak but I wouldn’t /couldn’t eat it every day, unless I was working on an Australian cattle station and you got a fried egg on top of each one.(I did once stay in digs in Alloa for three months and had a local version of that for tea each night but that was then). So I was really pleased when Ali cooked up a lovely steak dinner with all the hedge trimmings on Saturday. I felt spoiled and full up. We followed last night’s beefy binge with a breakfast at F&Bs. Still feel full.
Nice to see that some bunch of anonymous toadies are passing out best mortgage broker awards to RBS and to Nat West according to their stupid peak time advertisements. Do they really think that the public are so gullible that they’ll believe this tosh? The caring, sharing, here for you image they try to perpetuate with airbrushed and artificial assistants and perfect smiles makes me cringe. Banks, just do what you’re supposed to do, look after the feckin’ money and stop pretending, do that simple thing and we might just forgive you your recent over indulgence and actually begin to respect and believe you.