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Loads of sticks
Went to see The Queen yesterday, the film, not the monarch. It was good even though the plot and the ending were known; there was no sex, no special effects, just old-fashioned good acting and attention to detail, detail which included Prince Charles' bald patch.
I went to the matinee. The theatre was full of old people, and a depressing picture of old age they gave. Slow to move, wrinkled, bent double, breasts round their waists, bad hips, bad knees, swollen feet and ankles, difficulty sitting down and even more difficulty standing up. Why do old people develop into such crocks? I felt young and sprightly in comparison. My theory is that they let themselves degenerate; they don't work hard enough to minimise the effects of aging. One day I might find out.
One old dear wore a large bag round her waist. It looked a bit like a parachute because not only was it large but it had two tags with toggles on the end resembling rip cords.
In the interval some bought drinks and ice creams. The woman in front of me opened a plastic bag of homemade sandwiches and tucked in. Someone after my own heart I thought. I'd fortified myself with a piece of toast and honey and cup of tea before I left home.
I poked the compost heap with a stick to spread the contents more evenly. Never had I seen so many worms; the heap was heaving with them. They thrashed about and I stopped poking in case I injured any. A presenter on Gardeners' World said it was time to insulate wormeries. That is one unnecessary task for me; my father did little for the maintenance of his house but he did insulate his compost bin.
Thought for today
Laws are like spiders' webs: if some poor weak creature come up against them, it is caught; but a bigger one can break through and get away.
Solon (c 630 - c 555BC)
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