Great fun and much hilarity today as Graham put our pressure washer to the task of cleaning twenty-five years of slime off the paths and from the bottom of the walls on the side and back of the house. He did a splendid job, of course, and found it all terribly amusing. Boy oh boy, though, did he get wet!
Me, I sat at the easel for a while, adjusted the height a little more to my liking, and made a pretend pass or two of a dry bristle brush on the surface. Didn’t feel like spoiling it, though, so I left the paint in the tube.
This evening, over dinner, we started in on the last box of Stargate SG-1 DVDs, enjoying the space battles between the Orai (sp?) and the rest of the clan, including a newly-risen Atlantis way off in the Pegasus galaxy.
It’s a bit of wrench, pulling your brain back from outer space, especially when you’ve had both Shephard and Cameron strutting their stuff in the same testosterone-laden episode. Such fun.
Back on earth I continue my memory link back fifty years or so to the greasy old dance halls of the period when young men would put a final touch to their well-combed and Brylcreemed hair arrangement and walk over to the primped up little ladies against one wall, flowers every one, and pop out the good old line: “You dancin’?” In a Liverpudlian accent of course.
It was a good opening line. Got used in the opening theme song of the TV “Liver Birds” series, somewhere between then and the final episode. TV isn’t made like that anymore. They may not have had stargates back then, but the laughs were better, somehow. Leastways, the way I remember them they were.
And now it’s crept up to a little past bedtime and we have to go shopping tomorrow. Such fun.
