Up the Hill

Down to help the daughter at her flat. The light fitting in their front room had to go. And their ceiling is rather high. Gagh. Once I'd got the ceiling fitting off, I found that the old threadbare pendant flex was fastened using two thimbles and there was next to hee haw wire buried in the old lathe and plaster. Horrible to work above your head on a ladder when you need to use both hands. But I did it, and was soooo chuffed. As was the daughter. The good Dad.
After that, I felt much satisfaction and took myself uptown to blitz a bit of Christmas shopping and then back to the gaff. To blitz through some blips. I fear blip has slid down the priority list a bit - perhaps a feeling that everything on it is destined for the bin in a couple of months.
So farewell then, Jimmy Hill. The tartan army used to sing a bad song about him. It would be wrong to bring that up now. Toe-poke, indeed.