the way it does the things it does

It's probably already been stated by someone else who occasionally likes to make up fake proverbs and aphorisms that "even a rusty nail can still be sharp" so I won't pretend to have invented that one. Anyway, this is a screw, though it's close enough to count and Nicky's dad occasionally insists on referring to screws as "screw-nails" whenever he's in an archaic-term mood. It perhaps once held up a sign requesting that people pick up their dog's shite (which, whilst an act of which I approve, I would much prefer a state of affairs in which no dogshit ever touched the pavement) or advising those who needed to know of the location of the nearest hydrant but it now just sits waiting for someone of well-above-average height to snag their shoulder on it. If I remember and can be bothered I might make a little sign to hang on it, though I already have three outstanding sign-for-public-place projects to complete at some point.

After an uneventful morning finishing off editing pictures of children (they were all down at the park for most of the morning which meant that there was no attempt to irreparably feck up my screen by prodding it with pointy child-fingers) followed by a frustrating half-hour attempting to find a working blank CD anywhere in Nicky's dad's collection (he had a nearly-empty cakebox of blanks but one was smeared with some sort of paste (and was going nowhere near my drive) and the other two failed to work, possibly as they've probably been stored on a brightly-lit windowsill for several years). Two more blanks were eventually found which eventually worked so that Nicky's sister could be given a copy without having to rely on Nicky's dad burning them later in the week. The delay and lack of any more blank discs meant that I was able to postpone leaving copies of the wedding pictures (even though I could just have left them on a spare memory card or copied them to Nicky's dad's computer whilst it's still relatively new and uncluttered (though I'm just mildly wary about giving him pictures to play with as he'd probably sully them by printing them out badly (or create havoc by attempting to email several 3MB+ files to some sort of friend or relative (even when one folder specifically contained clearly-labelled reduced-sized emailable copies)). He even sullies pictures just by viewing them on a really badly colour-adjusted monitor improperly set up for its aspect ratio (which I took pains to set up properly when he bought his new computer); he didn't even seem to notice this and had to have it pointed out that his grandchildren's faces are not usually wider then they are deep. As all other televisions in the house feature mis-adjusted aspect ratios it's probably now at the stage where they think everyone looks unnaturally thin in real life)) until another time (preferably one when I've finished editing them all and can knock up a quick viewing-page in an attempt to prevent any other form of activity other than viewing them on-screen so that all printing can be strictly controlled). Unfortunately I left my tripod leaning against a corner of the kitchen when we eventually left so might have to send them a couple of DVDs of pictures along with a bag and pre-paid postage label to send it back unless an exchange can be arranged when Nicky pops to Glasgow to visit some people (some of whom will be coming from Ayr) on the 19th.