Bloomin Global Warming
I took some photos today to record that, well into November, my summer plants are still flowering. Indeed, the Nasturtiums are flowering more profusely than they did in the summer and the Busy Lizzies in the basket, which I was about to remove, have just burst into flower again for the umpteenth time. It's all very unsettling and has delayed any winter planting because in my soppy way I regard digging out a plant in flower as akin to murder.
Maybe we should make the most of it because one paradoxical theory of global warming is that the melting of the ice caps will stop the gulf stream reaching this sceptred isle and we'll all be living in igloos.
On a brighter note, I felt very smug this morning. I needed to replace the batteries in my 'landline' telephone and found the manual in my filing cabinet under 'Telephone Manual'. This was as pleasurable as a small win on the lottery. It could have been under 'Household Appliances' or under 'Betacom', the manufacturer. Or it could have been in a 'Manuals' folder in the kitchen cupboard. Worse still, it could have been in one of the many boxes and mountains of paper in the bedroom, designated 'Filing, Pending'. How can I be simultaneously so organised and disorganised? Then again, it wouldn't be so much fun if I hit the jackpot first time, every time. That would be like every chat-up line leading inexorably to orgasm. There's no thrill without a chase, even a paper chase.
An appreciative reader writes: this is more like the mind-numbing trivia that blogging's all about.
A vernacular specialist writes: did you know that if a casual chat-up ends in orgasm, it's known as 'to score from open play'
(slang, origin: English football).