A bloggee asked if it was not an awful chore to have to post everyday-write something (He carefully omitted to add 'interesting') Does Huttonian lie awake at night fretting about what to write about come the cold grey dreich dawn. Take today. It was a cold, grey, dreich dawn. I could write again about the Pheasants, drab and soaking gazing resentfully into the (comparatively) warm and inviting kitchen. I actually would invite them in to roost by the Raeburn but (a) they are still too timid and (b) they crap a lot. I could go on and on about selling this pile-and I suspect at present rate of progress I will have to go on and on-Blast Northern Rock and his Ditherness, The Gov of the Bank of England. There is also so much, and not much more, one can say about Sir Morrisons.All Human Life is no longer there since the caravanners have followed the swallows to winter quarters. And now that Marks and Sparks have set up shop (no pun intended) the action has anyhow moved elsewhere. Mind you the wife has yet to scrutinise their Green credentials. Are plastic bags thrust at you.; quality and quantity of wrapping, proportion of organic and local produce. So many boxes to tick. Worth a blog any day except when it is hissing down and their car park will still be full of rubber neckers from tout Berwickshire. Then of course the ever green (inappropriate pun not intended) topic of cash strapped landowners wanting to concrete over the best agricultural land north of the Border and build Mc Mansions in every nook and cranny. But on second thoughts
I will take a day off and blog about what there is to blog about, or not. Some other time perhaps.
And leave it at that.
For today anyhow.
Labels: Blogging, Marks and Spencers, McMansions, Selling the Manse, Sir Morrison's
