Sunny Paint

In spite of the heat, 89% F. at best today, I wandered out to get my hair cut by the miserable one that does not like me.  Still, I got him talking about one of his ex-favourite activities and that helped before he through me out with a false smile hoping I would go elsewhere.  I have that ability, the ability to make friends, I rarely use it.

 
I wandered over for the free bus which naturally I missed.  This meant a 20 minutes wait until the driver bothered to return.  He also was hating me, and indeed everybody else I reckon, as he trundled along as slowly as possible, almost running into a car at a roundabout as he was poncing about too much, and eventually got us to the end of what is normally a three minute drive.  He was quicker coming back as I suspect he finished at noon which is when we returned.
My need was for paint!
Yes indeed. the bedroom I promised to paint three, or was it four, years ago is now on the 'to do' list.  I wandered about the overpriced shops with nothing to see, almost bought a shirt but considered it a bit poncy for me, saw a similar one later (£45!) which I also decided to leave and joined the sweating throng and headed for B&Q.  
Paint!  White paint, matt, for walls, that was all I wanted.
I could not see it!
There were aisles of 'Dulux' which is expensive, aisles of coloured paints, big pots, small pots, huge pots, but I wanted white not 'harmony' or 'sea blue' or 'felicity' or whatever it was.  
So I asked.
"Round the next aisle," she said contemptuously, knowing I was an idiot and had not thought of seeking out a FIFTH aisle full of paint pots!
There, beside a women confused by the words 'matt' and 'silk' on the pots I found my paint.
At least I found one I could carry.  £11 worth of paint sit outside my door, this in case the landlord or his men pass by and therefore are impressed by my desire to paint, and will do so until I find he energy and desire.  This may not happen at the moment but this is a start.  
I will inform you of progress within the next 12 months.

 
It appears my prayers have not been answered while I slept after lunch this afternoon.  Boris is now inside No. 10 Downing Street planning to destroy the nation, or at least bumbling a few words before he allows the rest of the louts around him to destroy the free world, he himself will be doing little I expect.  I was praying the police would arrest him for some forgotten misdemeanour and take him away along with the rest of them.  I am somewhat disappointed. 

I would write more but the contents of that 'Yorkshire Bitter' bottle have removed all desire from me and instead made me desire sausage and chips.  I do not see how I can refuse such a desire?