Time on my Hands

I’ve just spent a few idle minutes watching Cyril the Squirrel’s acrobatics in our nextdoor neighbour’s garden. She has a hopper full of nuts for the birds hanging from her washing line. Cyril climbs to the top of the post, sets off walking the tightrope, then swings underneath, commando fashion, his tail acting as extra grip. A shuffle to the hopper, grab a nut and on to a tealight holder, drop to the grass and start again.

Which tells you that I’ve got time on my hands with my PC still motherboardless. (“So how are you writing this?” I hear your ask. I’m in the office using my nephew’s Mac.)

Apart from playing games, recording stuff from BBC7 and other equally constructive pastimes, it’s the email I miss. No-one trying to flog me Viagra and no offers of a share of $20 million from that well-known Nigerian gangster, Legs Akimbo.

Actually, if I’m honest, I don’t get that much spam these days for two reasons. First, I use Mozilla Thunderbird and it is pretty efficient at cutting out the crap. Second, I changed my email address a while back and made sure that it was encrypted wherever it appears on the web.

Sigh. You can tell I’m bored. Time to post this and then off to read what you’re writing about.

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

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