Reg Prescott impersonation afternoon.

The guttering on the local end of the shed gave way a couple of few weeks ago, and it's been leaning and taunting me drunkenly the while.

When I nerved myself to approach, I discovered that the thin ply facing had delaminated, the wee nails had rusted out and various other bits were starting to rot enthusiastically.

Well, bollocks. Proper fixing will require pulling it all to bits, which I was going to do anyway because I want to swap the downpipe end for end so I can run it into a water butt. It's just that I was going to do that in the depths of winter, post pruning the buddleia, when I can get at all the bits.

While bodging it back together with long screws and a slathering of Ronseal, I noticed that there seemed to be something blocking the top end of the downpipe. It was hidden in the depths of the buddleia, so I couldn't be entire sure. I dug out the requisite length of curtain-rod from the back of the shed and leaned off the stepladder in the comedy manner most likely to deposit me head-first in the composter; it was a lot like playing a tricky shot at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield.

Thunk!
Splish!
Gurgle!

The mini-football, helpfully placed by one or more small children from next door, spludged back onto their lawn and the remaining gunge in the gutter gurgled gracefully, er, away.

I suspect it's not been draining for A While, which would explain the rot.

In other news, I plan to harvest the sunflowers and consume the produce. I am only slightly concerned by the prospect of angry headless sunflower plants pursuing me across Bristol.

Apropos yesterday

'Marmite shower' still sounds wrong, but that's down to English humour and the emergent properties of Rule 34.

Meat shower sounds differently wrong, but has previous form.

Pervious Form is obviously a Scroobious Pip tribute act.

Pictures for SAD children

Interesting time at the model engineering exhibition.

Anyway.

I've gone on before about not being entirely sure if I hold with SAD or not. I don't actually think SAD gives a damn about what I think and turns up anyway to give me a wallop round the back of my head. I thought it was just me being an unwilling townie that meant I tried not to think about the days getting shorter on or about June the 21st or that I was the only one for whom autumn = despair. (Really, autumn's just autumn. The 'oh shit here we go again' grim pit of horror is recently learned behaviour)

The thing is that it is genuinely bloody awful, and I'm only half-joking when I burble on about wintering somewhere warmer with more daylight. The other thing is that I thought it was just me having a proper plumb of the depths there. (I also wish I'd written this a day ago when that conversation was fresh in my head.)