Profile avatar
drphillc.bsky.social
Elder statesman of underachievement; brand ambassador for laziness; case study in evolutionary dead ends. Someone once told me I "sound like a fucking Wurzel". This pleased me.
282 posts 430 followers 160 following
Regular Contributor
Active Commenter

I once passed Kevin Mcloud on some steps leading to Bristol Temple Meads station. When I got to the top I put down my almond croissant to grab a photo. A seagull swooped in and stole the croissant. I have nevet forgiven Kevin.

Just been for a run and Strava's normally relentlessly positive "Athlete Intelligence" tool has flipped me a "well, at least you tried" bird.

If I have a skill to pass on to my son, it's stone skimming - careful selection of the right stone, the explosive whip of arm and wrist as you spin it flat across the sea. My youth was comfortably double figures but now flab replaces strength. 7 or 8 will do. My son hit 5 - he'll best me by autumn.

3 days into half term and I already don't know if it is going to be possible to tidy up the carnage before the start of summer hols, or if we're heading into another trash-the-house rollover.

As anyone gardening in or around Bristol knows, the most important taxonomic classification in plants is the subdivision into "ravaged by slugs" and "ignored by slugs". I can confirm that cleomes are in the classification "ravaged by slugs".

Rule 1 of woodworking club: Practice dry assembly again and again before committing to glue. Rule 2: Practising dry assembly has fuck all influence on whether it'll fit together when you do glue. Rule 3: More glue. Rule 4: More clamps.

Itoh Peony 'Bartzella' reporting for duty.

Toasty.

By now the tree peonies have done their thing and the tulips and forget-me-nots are beginning to fade. But, for me, the garden year never truly begins until the big copper beech breaks bud. And, we're off ...

With thanks to @dj-acid-reflux.bsky.social (Tom Cox), I am now the proud owner of one copy of 'Notebook' and looking forward to a Sunday afternoon of reading.

If anyone wants to see some photos of tulips - here are some photos of tulips.

I'm not down with the nuances of international diplomacy but my TL;DR of yesterday's ceasefire talks is Trump: "We'd like a ceasfire". Putin: "You can fuck off". What did they talk about for the rest of the 90 minutes: "Hey Vlad, I like how you win elections with 99% of the vote - teach me how!"?

It's been a dry spring, so much so that the underground rainwater tanks are only half full - even with only modest watering of the borders in the greenouses. 10,000 litres will be nowhere near enough for summer and falling back on tap water is a big no-no. I'm praying for rain. Lots of rain.

The universally accepted standard when ordering an "eggs ..." breafast is 2 eggs. I'm sat in a cafe that has just served me a 3 eggs florentine. This is definitely the wrong number of eggs.

It's a bit springtime-y.

Spotted on a pack of granola (I know, so middle class) this morning: "Sugar content: 4% per 100g". Sighs.

Just caught a glimpse of John Bird as I flicked thru the TV channels and was reminded of how sharply on point Bremner, Bird and Fortune was in the 00s - and how much I'd love to hear George Parr's views on the current state of things.