As I write this in the wee small hours of the morning I'm listening to that beacon of "education and information", the BBC World Service. A rather angry sounding Scotsman called Alex Salmond who is Scotland's First Minister (the devolved equivalent of Britain's Prime Minister) is rabbiting on about how Scotland "must utterly utterly rid itself of the Tyranny of Whitehall". I think I've now heard the phrase "Tyranny of Whitehall" about half a dozen times over the past few minutes.
I decided that simply taking a photograph of the computer screen was neither interesting nor fun and so I left the house and walked out into the main street which runs not far from our house. Even at 3:33am the air is not cold but it is eerily still.
I think that Purranna was annoyed that she had lost her nice warm lap to sleep in and when I had returned to the house, she was back on night patrol, with the mission to catch, kill and maybe eat any cockroaches and moths which dared to darken her doorway. Kipper on the other hand is sitting in the window like he usually does, just casually staring into the night. Perhaps he is looking for the cat who lives two doors down the road who we only know as "Big Fat". I think that when they disappear under the house together sometimes, they're have a secret cat meeting and discussing secret cat things.
Also I note that the little robot with the broken arm is showing up again on Twitter. I'll probably have to tweet this as a twoosh (or whatever it is that the groovy kids say these days) later, because all that I'm getting currently is a spinny thing on Firefox.
I think that my use by date for this night was hours ago because there are little red wavy lines which appear as the result of horrible spelling.
Quite frankly, if getting behind the counter at McDonald's is a test of boldness, and getting a photo with a stranger is a test of courage, then this particular task is a test of endurance. To that end I've survived but only barely.
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