Lovely picture indeed - these are called Sapsuckers where we are and they drill holes in our wooden sided house. The sides of the house are glorified plywood, and these birds sense voids in the ply and think there are bugs in them (and there may well be), so they drill holes - all in a line, following the voids in the sheet ply.
Well, I just got back from the italian where William and I had a drink and some pasta. He actually had a water as he is under 21, but he will be 21 next week and so next time we go out, Dad and son will be able to have a drink together - just like we have been able to for the past three years at VMR rallies in the UK...
So, we get back to the house (Jayne is working at the hospital tonight - she is a nurse, for those who don't know), and William puts on his new air band radio (he's a trainee commercial pilot). He dials up Grand Rapids ATIS (Automatic Terminal information Service). The recorded voice tells us that the temperature is minus 8 degrees at the airport - and that's Farenheit. I don't even want to work that out in Centigrade. All I know is that it is BLOODY COLD out there! And I have to go out again at midnight to pick up Jayne. I can cope with the temperatures, except for the fact that my Mercury Sable has black leather seats, which are too hot to sit on in the summer and freeze your a**e off in the winter!
Hey ho - such is life.
Oh, did I tell you about last week? Tim Pratt and I (Tim is an ex-pat like me and lives in the village - he has a lovely 1927 Austin 7 Chummy which he has had since University days in England in the sixties) popped up to the Cannonsberg Inn for a beer and a chat. He was at our Summer Rally in Dorset. I happened to mention the rally to him and whimsically said that, if he was at a loose end that weekend, he should join us. He did just that and I bumped into him at the lunch stop on the nav rally. Anyway, they have all the usual awful Americal beers at Cannonsberg, but the one redeeming factor about the place is that they have a very passable draft Guinness. Well, one pint led to another and we had a very convivial evening, during which we discovered that we have a great deal in common. He has just boguht an enormous 1925 Sunbeam in Carlisle and he is shipping it back here with the Semi-Sports and the Mac in March. I can't wait to get my hands on it. Anyway, so I get up next morning, feeling slightly second-hand. I get to work, pull out the receipt from the night before - we got through 14 pints of Guinness. Just like University days, I guess.
Dear vmr, why oh why oh why? rant, rant, rant. Actually my week has been shared by someone who in doing things terms, must be 128 years old. He was funny to begin with but I hate him now! He spends all day doing nothing while saying he only works to keep busy. He's been in the sbs, customs and excise, holds a pursuit licence from his time in the police (still got his warrant card, handcuffs etc.) and owns a slightly singed solid gold door knob from Windsor Castle. Aaggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
