honk … snorp …
Furthermore, damn and blas—
LET ME EXPLAIN
I’m a superstitious old poop.
Which means that I don’t believe in (choose one, or both) (‘neither’ is not an option)—
(a) divine retribution, or
(b) instant colds (or similar) such after brief exposure to the elements.
So I went out the night before last to try for some star snaps. Hoofed out to where I knew it would be dark and deserted, and set up my camera and tripod. But:
it was bitterly cold. Freezing, in fact. And I was out there for a couple of hours; very well wrapped in layers of warming things outside and layers of gobbled Mars bars (okay, just two) inside. And still I frozz.
I also had the feeling that on this deserted out-of-town golfing course, with no lights, pretty near total darkness and quite unable to achieve a focus on a star in any mode—
—I was not alone.
It’s a ‘sense’ I’ve never been able to explain and cannot conjure up at will, but I’ve learned never to ignore it …
… so in pitch blackness I folded my toys and hoofed quietly away.
But not before declaring myself with a quick beam of light from the lovely new powerful flashlight The Spouse bought me for my birthday and snapping an exhalation, herewith below—
—in the general direction of what I felt might be the source of my unease; and then with no pretence of sneaking briskly left.
Dammit, shifted my shi— shivers homewards.
overdid it. Despite all the layers of feathers and things I got horribly chilled, and The Spouse wasn’t at all impressed when I arrived home as a self-propelled animated ice block. I was tossed (with no formalities~!) into a lovely hot shower and force fed hot cocoa (and sermons).
how long does it take to crank up a full blooded cobbod cod? Dode ask be, but I seeb to hav dud id in just two days