Cotton Horses

Normally I watch anything with Richard Burton in it, but I just couldn't find the time for 'The Medusa Touch' last night. I'd missed the beginning and I think I was tired. I was also disappointed with the horror offering on Channel 4. So many recently made films are shown on television, and they are all so similar. Although 'The Medusa Touch' isn't an argument for any golden age of cinema.

Walking bus this morning and I think I'd be getting the hang of it if they didn't stop faffing around. The bus made several stops, at one point breaking down entirely and holding up other walkers. For some reason they were measuring the distance from Oddbins wine shop to the school with one of those wheel things.
Walking back after we finally got to school, I began to consider the implications of my commitment to the walking bus. I'd noticed that the lady who introduced me to the scheme now no longer actually walks the bus. It's like I have taken her place, and like some terrible money chain, will have to keep walking until I have found someone to replace me.

I was in the car with my daughter yesterday discussing annoying fashions. High on the list was the wearing of woolly hats in the summer (the girl next door does this), wearing shorts in the winter (usually the same people who wear woolly hats in summer), and what my daughter called 'falling down trousers'. By this she meant baggy, enormous, long trousers, hanging down round people's bottoms.

'That's a nice phrase you just said', she suddenly said, 'cotton horses'. I agreed, although I don't recall saying it.

Keep changing in and out of long trousers. I'd got overconfident with the shorts and sandles. I worry that the trousers I have been wearing are too baggy and could be mistaken for 'falling down trousers'. I'm sure my wife, who is always cold, had the heating on for a short time last night. It's not quite woolly hat weather, but I might have to dig out a pair of warm socks.

Fashion victim.