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I have a friend who used to work as a tree surgeon. Now, I’m not your average tree hugger nor a big hippie - all those green photos here aside - but I always thought he had a horrible job. He then moved onto to building mirror balls; now that I can relate to.  Anyway, I once asked him how he could go about his day. ‘Well, the trunk stays there’, he said. ‘The tree might get the chop, but the trunk still stays’. Sounds about right.

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Threatening Mr. Cloud didn’t quite work out - onto the next phase, then: pretend. Pretend you’re drinking Pimms in your new garden, pretend you’re wearing that tiny new top, pretend summer is here. Close your eyes - listen to that fab C2 remix (well you can’t stop to anyway) - and just pretend. No?

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It’s so b.o.r.i.n.g to talk about the Weather, so I’m not gonna. I will cuss it instead. Ready? Boo, Weather, boo! You’re ugly, stupid and mean. Because of you, I can’t run outside, my new boots are stained plus you made me ill (twice!). No, no, let me rephrase myself, Weath - you make me sick. You’ve taken the whole of April, so go away don’t even think about May. Go, I said!

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Irony number one: Instagram for Android is finally out, I’m loving snapping away with it yet failing to reach this bit of pixlespace and upload results. Irony number two: I’m way too hungover to actually know what it is I meant to type when I started this paragraph. Irony number three: yet going out to drink some more. Irony number four: and typing away, still. Right, then.

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No jogging today but boat paddling with sister-and-law and niece-in-law instead. We fed the geese and the birds; a duck bit the little one’s finger; seagulls surrounded us were trying to get some as well. Can’t believe how mean those seagulls are! No dignity, no diggity.