To the heavens

It was warming up nicely in advance of next week’s Armageddon. 

Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything Bruce Willis and Co will be able to do to help with the heat, that is unless there is an ill-conceived NASA plan to send two teams of inexperienced astronauts into space to mount a giant parasol on a conveniently placed asteroid? Anyone? No?

I took a wander into town at lunch as there were a couple of things I wanted to pick up in advance of the weekend and on my way back, I happened upon this sight. A close zoom in on the sign above the car might raise some eyebrows, but equally my thoughts were: “Good on you, Vic. Clearly no cost of living crisis for those bathed in the righteous sunshine of his (or her or their) Lordship.”

In the evening, I joined LadyV and we headed to Morecambe Football Club for the retirement do of someone who had worked at her business. There were some colourful characters in attendance along with the requisite children in posh clothes mugging aunties and uncles for sweets, treats and cold hard cash. It was nice putting faces to the names of the people she talks about as they are clearly a close-knit bunch. 

Eventually, too many drinks were had and with a stomach swishing with a heady mix of a surprisingly good Rioja and about seven hundred lime-infused Coronas (“family, bruh”) the dance floor beckoned. 

The next thing I knew, we were in a taxi and homeward bound – whether this was as a direct result of the dancing, I am unable to confirm or deny.