''Needs must...

... when t'Divvel drives.'' In the local vernacular.

Sedentary a.m.

Mobile p.m.

Hurtle to Bone Mangler to drop off prescription for a coat of looking at. First Bone-mangler I've met with the prefix ''Dr.'', pick up the Jeffery Deaver I was reading while waiting for the gaffer (And forgot).
Thence to Clicky's emporium to change a small fleet of watch batteries and adjust a few bracelets. (Why the hell can't the vendors do it at ''Point of sale'', not that I object really).
Followed by a whizz next door for smokers' requisites.
Next a, metaphorical, canter to the wholefood shop to replace the un-bored bungs I accidentally bought with bored ones. I could have done my own if I'd snuck a cork-borer out when I left school.
And finally Cyril, collect car and move to rear of Clicky's to onload some stuff.
then home sans cuppa coz we'd run out of parking time.

Oh? The blip.

It's so long since I brewed I'm devoid of all-sorts of things. I spotted a pair of ''Feral'' apple trees beside a lay-by on the A66 so decided to make some wine for the first time in decades.
What you see is wet kitchen-towel forming a sufficiently airtight bung until I could replace the above mentioned ones.

One day I might, just, blip a real gem of the glass-blower's art instead of this apology of the plastic moulder's attempt.