Yea, OK, I did have beans for lunch, but that’s not the cause. It’s external wind I’m talking about: the kind that makes the veranda roof squeak and whooooom, like a demented monkey let loose on a set of off-key pan pipes.
I know it’s really windy, because in addition to this achordal cacophony, the picture on the satellite TV has gone all funny. This is happens when the digital bits that get beamed down from space to the dish bolted onto the side of our house like some diseased, grey fungus, are blown off-course. When the wind dies down I’ll have to go out and sweep up huge piles of fragments of programmes. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but now that I’ve painted the house white all those wayward pixels really make the walls look filthy.
The adverts are the worst, all that small print and loud music makes a hell of a mess. You need bleach to get rid of those bloody ‘Have you had an accident in the last three years?’ ones. And I won’t even start on the ‘Looking for a low cost loan?’ bastards.
Anyway, I have to go let the cat in now, if she’s out there for much longer she’s going to end up in Norway. Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooosh... meow...
Did I mention it was windy?