A penultimate Bucket Day

I didn’t make it to the Golf Club on Tuesday, so I must apologize that you have had to wait, with bated breath, for the ‘Easter Bucket’ missive. Well, now it is there, so on to the musings of what I did do on that penultimate day of the Bucket List Trip.

I did very little, come to think of it. I lounged around, watched TV, out more stuff in my half-packed bags and watched the birds and squirrels cavort around my brother’s garden. Later, I watched him cavort around it. He loves gardening, and in the summer time his plot looks very attractive with its array of colors and variety of plant species - and 8 or 9 varied seating areas from which to enjoy it. He spent a couple of hours, digging, raking, wheel-barrowing, leveling, kneeling, doweling, and planting onions. I just drive to Shop ‘n’ Save and buy the buggers!  

If I ever get a hobby, it will not be such a labor intensive one. As I lay on a recliner, watching this ant colony-like activity, I began to doze off under the warmth of the strange yellow object that lingered in the sky far longer than it had in the past couple of weeks.- even the wind had subsided significantly; though it was still several degrees below normal. My mind drifted off to my own garden and to ideas of what from his, I could inject into mine. Just the thought of it all made me weary.

I needed a break; so I took a walk around the subdivision; maybe a mile or so. My jaunt took me into a section of the woods in which I trodden two weeks ago. The footpaths were decidedly drier than on my prior trek. On my way back, I stopped at the village’s tiny ‘convenience store’ where I scoured the shelves for some small items of candy. I had a dual-motivation reason for that action: one, to placate my kids who would ‘hound’ me if I brought back no candy back at all (they’ll be disappointed with the paucity of the haul anyway – TS) and second, to purge myself of as much loose change as possible. The smallest denomination of ‘paper-money’ here is equivalent to about $7.50, so a strong belt and tough pants-pockets are needed; but that coinage is of no value if I bring it back. Best to ‘use it than ‘lose it’; even the paper money (the British say ‘notes’, not ‘bills’) will fetch about 8% less than face value if I exchange it at a bank – whether in the UK or in the US.

So, I returned back to the house, made a ‘cuppa’ and cut a slice off the chocolate-and-cream-rolled-cake that I bought and watched a bit more ‘tele’.

In the evening, I watched a football match (PSG v Barcelona) on TV, consumed my 2 remaining 440 ml cans of Foster’s lager and retired, to await the penultimate day – when I would carry my bucket back across the pond.

Farewell, UK. Who knows when, or if, we’ll meet again?