As far as I know there isn't a verse in T-Rex's "Whatever Happened To The Teenage Dream" that says 'bought a strimmer from B and Q, so I could sort out my suicidal verges'. There should be. It feels awfully grown up to be spending cash on such things, with the only rock n' roll element being my schoolboy like refusal to read the instructions. Took the new toy down the allotment on Sunday, where, by the time we'd figured out how to use it, it ran out of battery. Undeterred, we charged the mutha-sucka and returned yesterday, only for the spool to run out just seconds after making some paltry headway. Spools out for summer. I may put a picture of Thatcher's head on the base to motivate future grassy encounters.
In positive plot news, the crowd of people who normally stand at the end of our plot pointing and laughing has diminished.
Listening: Laura Marling, Hawkwind, Marlena Shaw
Watching: The Wire (recording it off the telly means one episode a week, which means the pleasure ain't gonna stop til at least October! Hurrah!)
Barton Radar: Barton Beer Festival has just been and gone, but Barton Bike Night is only three weeks away!