Smited

When you get a puncture on the way home from work you’re unlucky. When you get two within the space of a mile you know you’ve somehow pissed off The Big Man. Don’t ask me how, cause I thought I was going OK at the moment.

I even spent a fair amount of Saturday with a hot bird, trying to persuade her to go out with me. OK ok .. admittedly it was a sparrow (or some other small feathered type of bird) but even she was having none of it. Somehow (between Friday night and Saturday morning) she’d managed to get into the close, and was flapping about in rather a distressed way. And before you ask it was rather a hot day.

Anyhow, I tried various methods of guiding her down 2 flights of stairs, along a corridor and out into the street but none succeeded. Not leaving the door open and hiding, not chasing with a broom, not making coo’ing sounds from the door (ok, so that was a long shot). Even coaxing her with some bread had no effect. But to be fair … I can’t really see a bird chasing a bit of bread. A dog, maybe .. but not a bird.

Eventually she did make her own way out, after I gave up and propped the main door open with some junk mail (see it IS useful) and went inside to get some coffee.

So, after trying to help the little birdy, quite why the big geezer would be pissed at me is a mystery. Maybe he’s just in a bad mood. Still, surely that’s all my bad luck used up and I should be onto a run of good luck now. None the less, my cunning plan of carrying 1 spare inner tube for my bike needs re-thought. While the 6 mile hike was not too unpleasant, I’d rather not be doing it again anytime soon. Moo.