Absolutely Buzzing
The noise level has gone up considerably. Roadworks have started at the bottom of the hill and crossing the road is now something like traversing No Mans Land in 1917.
Libraries are supposed to be quiet aren't they? Not Swindon. Our library is buzzing with lively action. At first, the library was silent as you'd expect, then a conversation broke out behind me. One of those "Allo mate, where ya been? Seen the footie? Hows the missus?" type of exchanges at the top of their voices. So loud in fact the gentleman opposite me strode over and enquired whether they knew they were loud or not. He then went back and had a conversation with his mate next to him.
Luke Floorwalker is busy practising his moves. Jedi Knights start young these days I guess, and he's certainly taking on the universe. His mum tells him to stop. Thank you. So instead he tries to see how rapidly he can revolve on his seat.
Once those two had gone another mother and child turned up. She doesn't know anything at all about computers and of course dragged her son along because he knows everything. I should know, I heard his lecture on Computers For Dummies.
The other side of a pillar a father and daughter turn up. This time the situation is reversed. He's an IT expert (or at least makes a pretence at being one) and she sat there while father guided every single move of her mouse. Poor girl was bored out of her mind. She'll grow up with a phobia about logging on.
AM is busy with his emails on the next PC. Now he's normall the worst offender of all, but even he's starting to lose his patience as two woman discuss some subject or other of huge domestic importance. Of course, while all this noise takes place, the level of conversation builds and before long, the library sounds like an early evening in a busy pub. Except they don't serve alcohol. Shame.
Insect Infestation of the Week
One peculiarity of my home is that I get flies out the front. Open the window for four seconds and you see a miniature dogfight as squadrons of flies circle each other over the carpets of England. Eventually these dumb creatures realise they're not in Kansas any more and migrate toward the kitchen so I have urge them to continue on into the bathroom, where I can open the rear window and persuade them to complete the last stage of their migration.
Except... This one. This fly is determined to annoy me. It refuses to follow the squadron and persists in exploring the flat. Right, I've had enough. I reach for the bug-spray and go into armageddon mode. I thought this stuff was supposed to kill flies? It seems unpeturbed by the noxious chemical that's surely doing me no good at all.
Eventually my superior brain size prevails and I trap the insect in the bathroom. He's in there... Plotting his victorious conquest of my home.... Good grief, he's head butting the door! Has this fly got something against me? Sorry, Mr Bluebottle, but an Englishmans home is his castle and I shake the bug-spray can for another offensive. He won't be buzzing for much longer...
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