It's a sign!

I'm sure you all remember the woman who had the arrow pointing at her last year - well now it seems that Jon is in the same predicament.

This is a new sign and I really like the shape and the whole gallows feel. I don't know if each of the little signs on chains has a formal name but you'll see one with "Farm shop" on the ground. I've just checked and that was promoted to be above the opening hours which Jon is messing with here.

This shot isn't posed and Jon wasn't aware of it - you might say that I took him from behind without warning. Clearly if you were to say that it would be perfectly accurate and any double entendre would be entirely in your head.

In other news. I collected my monthly prescription and was invited to have a chat with the pharmacist. I don't get out much and when I do I rarely have folk to speak with so I agreed. It was very jolly. She seemed to take my medication far more seriously than I do and she warned me of something about one of the tablets which it might have been useful to know sooner. When I mentioned that I really miss grapefruit juice she was shocked as she hates it but she mentioned that if I was on warfarin I'd not be allowed cranberry juice. On balance I think I'd rather not be allowed cranberry juice than be banned from ever having grapefruit juice but I've got to play the cards I'm dealt.

And then - and this is the big one - I went to Tesco to see if they had any cheese and chutney bread and they didn't. What kind of cruelty is this? As I passed through the checkout I mentioned to the cashier that this bread is like crack cocaine and she said she'd not tried it. As I left the store the customer who had been on the next checkout stopped me and said that she was also bowled over by the cheese and chutney bread and, like me, felt that it replaced the three cheese bread in our affection. Affection? It's addiction! She'd checked the bread counter too and was shocked that C&C wasn't available. I have a feeling that she and I would be heading for meetings with shady folk on street corners where we'd pay over the odds for small parcels of doughy products whilst humming "I'm waiting for the man". I think we might need to set up a support group and apply for council funding and all that stuff.