Sunday 4th October 2020

Unlike Saturday, there was to be little restbite from the driving rain, egged on by a keen wind.

So they said.

And so we had little planned, other than shovelling shit.

Jools had arranged for a ton of manure to be delivered last week, and as a result we could not get the car down the drive. And each day we talked about moving the midden. But now it was the last day of the weekend, best get to it.

In fact, Jool had done loads on Saturday, using shovels and a wheelbarrow.

Anyway, I was up first, fed the cats, cleared up Cleo#s accident, made coffee, and was then struck by the thought I was hungry.

So hungry, that as Jools went for a shower, I grilled some maple syrup bacon and made myself fine butties. Saying that, they were splendid, but it is worth pointing out that the packs in Yesco are now 25% smaller. There might be a good reason for this, or it could be the Brexit bonus they never talk about now.

I have a shower too, then go out to shovel shit, and move the midden to the middle patio. Thing is, half rotted manure is mostly made of straw, and so not heavy. We do two barrofulls, then carry the remainer in a tarp, through the gate and onto the patio, dumping the poo in pallet collars.

Job done.

The rain comes.

I go to clean up, make a brew and prepare the steaks for lunch, as preparation is everything.

We watch Gardener's WOrld as it draws to the end of another season. A most unusual socially distanced season, with plenty of repeats, but lots of video from viewers showing how people have connected to the land through the pandemic. It will be as much a time capsule of the year as anything else.

That watched, I boil and slice some potatoes, get the fryer going, steam some corn, make garlci mushrooms and fire up the griddle pan for the steak. It was impossible to split the two steaks when frozen, so we have to take one for the team and have one each, they were not too big, but bigger than we usually have. But are glorious.

I open a bottle of fizz, and to the soundtrack of Huey on Radio 2, we eat and drink like the gutter kings we are.

Cheers.

And then there is football. Promised to be a little predictable. Didn't quite turn out that way.

Arsenal beat Shefield Utd 2-1. So far, so predicatble.

Then it was Man Utd v Spurs. Utd get a penalty in 30 seconds, score. Three minutes later, Spurs pull level, and three more minutes take the lead thansk to come Keane quick thinking. Utd then had a player sent off, and it all got a bit strange as Spurs ran in four more goals to win 1-6.

I had watched two games, the late game, Villa v Liverpool was going to be dull and predictable, so I don't watch, instead put the radio on. By the time I check the score, Villa were 4-1 up. Then 5-1. 5-2. 6-2. And finally 7-2.

I have no words. Neither dies Klopp as the 6th goes in via a huge deflection.

Football: go home, you're drunk.

We have cheese and crackers for supper. And wine.

And that is it.

Phew, rock and roll.