chew the cud

The Retired Person's birthday treat was to drive to Bedfordshire and join the queue to a Model Railway exhibition.
Lots of battered old figures safely in their boxes.

Makes a change from my stitcher groups, tho it did occur to me that it was somewhat the male version. We had booked into a 14th century coach house, expecting to be actually sleeping in some kind of motel annexe, but the room was so dark and small we gathered ourselves onto our hind legs and walked out. Very grown up.

Fortunately we found a brighter whiter hotel room in town and could stretch out and watch A Murray losing at the tennis.

The next day should have led us to a nice hotel and similar, but we had run out of chutzpah and eventually after hours trolling round country lanes found ourselves back home. I get so Bored just sitting there, Retired Person is quite happy as he is busy "doing" something [driving]. I am an ungrateful cow, but at least I am back in my barn.

Delivered my stuff to the meeting prior to exhibition. So boring and yet stressed at the same time. I was either sulking or getting shouted at for interrupting the co-ordinator. Guilty.

I quoted Nietzsche as "we hate the thing in others that we fear most in ourselves" which raised a laugh at least.

Read a smashing book this week [cheapo paperback - Skippy Dies" by Paul Murray. It was good to have something to read that was a bit more meaningful than my usual crime but it has left me a bit mournful.

Better not to think really. Trains and stitching, stay in the box where we are safe. Not shaken or stirred.