K was in a state of shock last night when she received an unexpected phone call from her Dad inviting her to accompany him this morning on a rare outing together. It must be at least two months since he took her out anywhere. She was so shocked and surprised that it set off one of her ‘choking do’s’ as she calls them. (blames these occurrences on having a small narrow throat though I have never quite fathomed out how she has arrived at this diagnosis seeing as she can neither look down her own throat to compare it with others, or measure its width in any meaningful manner, and despite being small and narrow if she is correct, it still manages to allow the passage of vast amounts of food.)

As our pumpkin container for any treats intended for any Halloween revellers was rendered only half full owing to our need to test the safety of all the contents, she has been given the task of buying some more spooky looking sweets to fill it to the brim whilst out in town with her Dad. I instructed her to get more of the same if possible, chocolate, marshmallow type sweets and jellies. What she will actually return with is anyone's guess. They will no doubt be paying their favourite ‘help yourself to as much as you can eat’ restaurant Jumbo’s a visit for lunch.

He (being my ex husband and of course K’s Dad) has been informed that he needs to lose two stone before his consultant will operate on him, but the likelihood of this operation ever taking place is to be honest very slim indeed owing to the fact that like his daughter, my ex loves his food. Or should I say, he loves any food that is bad for him. (Please don’t enquire of me what exactly this operation is for because as we are no longer together, I only receive snippets of information about it from my various sources, and other than hearing that he has something that his surgeon states that he has never EVER seen before in his entire career, I haven’t a clue what the needed operation is for or what is is intended to correct)

I finished up toddling down to town myself in the end as in my email inbox this morning was a calendar alert that tomorrow is my sisters birthday. She was here last night. Visiting. I had forgotten all about it. (As a rather lame excuse, I shall blame my lapse on all the excitement of Halloween)

I have a lousy memory. Anyone who knows me will vouch for that fact. And yet, you would think that at my age I would have found some way of compensating for it wouldn’t you? Especially as I am so into all this new technology lark. Get your mobile phone to message you when its someone’s birthday! Get reminders to pop up on your screen on your computer! Stick sticky notes everywhere so that you can’t miss seeing them!

Get some new RAM memory installed into your brain! (I wish!)

TG

This morning we enjoyed a wonderful walk down to exercise class in the warm (yes warm!) October sunshine. The rich and vibrant colours of the Autumn leaves were made far more enjoyable during out trek to the centre by the lovely sight of sunshine shining through them making them look even more beautiful. What a glorious day and so warm that by the time we reached the centre, I was perspiring! If only it would stay like this all winter I would be in seventh heaven! My usual winter bout of SAD could take a vacation and mosey off somewhere else!

It’s difficult to know what to wear on days such as this which tend to feel quite nippy first thing in the morning  and then warm up rapidly once the sun puts in an appearance. Mind you, I always tend to put on more clothing as you can always take something off if you become too warm. Following exercise class we did our usual shopping in Tesco’s, but before returning home on the bus I took the time to take some pictures of the many varied offerings of Halloween treats in our local bakery shops, who are always quick to take advantage of any seasonal happenings to produce cakes, buns and biscuits to tempt and delight everyone. (well apart from me of course who can’t eat any of them owing to my wheat intolerance, bah!)

Which really does beg the question why I then put myself through untold misery by standing there taking photos of them all looking so delicious in the window. For my blog readers of course, who else?

We also bought our usual assortment of Trick or Treat sweets to dole out to any visiting trick or treaters who are brave enough to ring our doorbell on Halloween. We have placed them all in a soft squashy pumpkin shaped container to await our visitors. K will dress as usual in her terrifying Wolf attire in order to greet them at the door, hoping against hope that by doing so she will discourage them from ever darkening our doorstep again.

 I had been considering buying a full witches outfit complete with hooked nose, but then I had second thoughts seeing as it is only for one night and therefore I haven’t bothered. (I know, miserable so and so aren’t I?) Will leave all that to my lovely daughter who enters into the spirit (pun) of Halloween with as much gusto as if she is still a child herself. ( She will probably growl at them as she opens the door, so I do hope that there is not a small child present because it will be blood curdling and I would feel awful if they screamed and suffered nightmares.) On the other hand, K won’t be in the least bit bothered.

She loves anything like this because of her penchant for acting of course. If we do not receive any ‘trick or treaters’ then we will obviously have to devour the treats ourselves. (which tends to give K more incentive to be even more terrifying.) In addition and in the interests and safely of all children who might venture to our door, we have done a taste test already on their behalf just to check that there were no small ‘bits’ included that could possibly choke a child and that each one tastes alright. ( we are both so careful where children and their safety and taste buds are concerned.) Of course as usual whilst attempting to empty the treats into the pumpkin bag, I had to resort to using the usual scissors in order to cut open the plastic bags that contained them all.)

So. We are ready for Halloween. We are ready for the trick or treaters. We are all prepared for the onslaught. Treats ready. Wolf mask and wolf hands stashed nearby. Woooo!

TG

Some of you might vaguely remember my moans and groans earlier this year regarding our new recycling scheme where all householders in our particular authority were issued with a various assortment of containers intended to be used for sorting out all of your rubbish and recycling it.. Just to refresh your memory HERE is the post in question. In common with other authorities, amongst the numerous containers issued was a wheelie bin per household, and being typical of this rather morose damp dismal part of Yorkshire, a black wheelie bin.  Every resident received one, parked at the edge of each residents path.

Any resident over the age of 60 or who considered themselves incapable for any reason of being able to cope with pushing said wheelie bin could be exempt from having to us it and could instead, following a home visit by a council official to assess if you truly are incapable or too old to deal with said wheelie bin, continue to use their previous bin instead and be issued with five black refuse sacks per fortnights collection. On our particular estate, which contains quite a few elderly persons bungalows, wheelie bins were not issued to those premises as it was taken for granted that any resident of the aforementioned bungalows would be incapable of coping with said wheelie bins.

Now we come to the mystery, and please readers correct me if I have completely misunderstood the whole idea behind the introduction of wheelie bins. You see I presumed that the reason for issuing everyone with a wheelie bin was to cut down on the time taken for the dustbin men to do their rounds. In other words, that residents were supposed to fill the wheelie bin with rubbish, then on collection day WHEEL said wheelie bin to  the kerb edge of the road so that all the dustbin men had to do was place each wheelie bin into the wheelie bin tipping mechanism where it would then empty into the container at the back of the dustbin wagon, and then the dustbin man would then retrieve the wheelie bin and move onto the next ones. This would both cut down the time taken to empty everyone's bins and also need far fewer men.  And the reality?

Not one resident around here has actually been seen pushing their wheelie bin anywhere. (well I did. Once. Before the visit by a lady from the council to check that I am incapable of moving said wheelie bin, or that I am REALLY over the age of 60.)  Add to that the fact that I am the oldest resident in this block of flats by a long way.  Granted, our estate is laid out in such a way that quite a few of the premises are not directly near the edge of the road. So any wheelie bins belonging to these premises would require a walk to the kerb side by said residents, but not an impossible task by any means, seeing as a 65 year old Granny did do just that one week. (and then had to do the return journey to fetch it back to its resting place.)  However, even some of the residents who’s premises ARE next to the road don’t bother wheeling their bins anywhere either!  Instead they have placed them permanently on the pavement next to the roadside, and I presume that they then bring their bags of rubbish from their respective premises and place them in the wheelie bins as needed.

Now one could be forgiven for thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to place any wheels on the bottom of said wheelie bins thereby rendering them incapable of being pushed by even the strongest of residents, or maybe they are so heavy that its too hard to push them from their parked spot. Or perhaps the residents are unaware of what role they are supposed to play in this wheelie bin saga. Perhaps they are all unaware that they are supposed to wheel them to the kerb side? To save time? What makes me laugh (well not in a literal sense but in a ironic sense) is that in reality its now taking the bin men far longer to empty everyone's bins than it did before when we all had those old type bins (which we all still have by the way. They were supposed to be collected up but they are still there taking up our bin areas) Why is it now taking the bin men so much longer to do their rounds?  Because now they have to nearly immerse themselves head first into the wheelie bins in order to retrieve everyone's bags of rubbish from them, and they are still having to go to everyone’s premises in order to do so. Okay, so the actual collection is now once a fortnight instead of once a week, but still, if I were assessing the results of the distribution and usage of said wheelie bins upon refuse collection time and motion, I would consider it to be a complete and utter failure.

Added to that, there is the other thing as well. You all should be pretty familiar by now with how my mind works. The first thing that popped into this Granny’s head the day that all of our wheelie bins were left parked at the end of our paths? You could fit a dead body in one of those. I can just see it now, ‘The Wheelie Bin Murders’ by T.G. Gran.

TG

Yesterday, K and I set of on a subversive reconnoitre of the as yet unseen new Swimming Pool site on behalf of  Technograns ‘we residents of this town need to know what’s going on’ society. We both toyed with the idea of wearing Halloween masks as a disguise in case we were spotted during our mission, but after careful consideration (and realising that seeing as yesterday was a Saturday, the likelihood of encountering any site workers on the premises as next to zero) we quickly dismissed this idea as being one sure fire way of getting ourselves arrested, seeing as our police station is sited right next door.

We set off in stealth mode, me in front armed with my trusty camera hidden conveniently in the pocket of my flack raincoat, with Dr Watson K  bringing up the rear (as usual.)  We tried to look casual as we made our way stealthily to the only visible open area in the surrounding yellow fence so that I could take a shot of the evidence (or lack of it) of any progress had been made in the last few months. Glancing furtively around, I extracted my trusty Samsung camera and took a quick panoramic shot of the entire site as it lay before our gaze.

Hmm. Well, looks like a start of sorts has been made on the foundations I thought to myself. K on the other hand just stood and looked. (I don’t think she actually knew what all this was in aid of or what we were actually doing there or looking for, she tends to just humour me most of the time, and by now my readers will no doubt fully understand why she looks forward to respite care and escaping her strange mother.)

There was a sort of wall made of smaller stones in squares (see picture evidence in front of a bemused K readers) but as I am not up on what constitutes a foundation wall, I wasn’t certain that this was a foundation wall or simply a ‘surrounding the intended Swimming Pool building to be wall’.  Hmm.  To be truthful, I ended up after gazing at this vista as really no wiser to what progress has actually been made, although it did look like some drainage pipes had been laid.  (This is what comes of sticking your nose into things that don’t really concern you I suppose.)  Hmm. Perhaps Technogran, you need to go and do some homework first of all about buildings and their required foundations before setting off on one of  your fact finding missions!

Not to be thwarted and after noticing that one thing had been completed, because some people were actually using them, was the reinstating of the tennis courts which are now placed much further back to the side of where the crazy golf course used to be.  So deciding that this needed further investigation, we continued on trying to look as if we were both just out for an innocent stroll in the park.  We made our way down towards the crown bowling green and thence onto the newly laid tennis courts where some youths were playing tennis.  I took a shot of the new courts but owing to the fact that there wasn’t any cover to hide behind I was immediately spotted by one of the tennis playing youths who began to move towards us so we beat a hasty retreat back along the path into the park.  In conclusion once we had completed our mission,  I began to summarise just what had been achieved by the builders since their arrival some two or three months ago.

1. The erecting of several portakabins stacked on top of each other for the use of all personnel (I suppose.)

2. The clearing of the bottom area and laying of new tennis courts.

3. The erection of a fence around the perimeter to keep nosy Granny’s at bay.

4. The erection of a billboard to show all residents just what the eventual Swimming Pool will look like once completed and wet their appetites in anticipation of days of keeping fit and leisurely swims. NOTE. It states on this billboard that our new Swimming Pool is due to be completed in October of next year. Considering the progress achieved in the last three months and that we are now rapidly approaching winter when the weather can be expected to be inclement which added to the fact that no one was taking advantage of a lovely October day by working on a Saturday,  I think that they are being very optimistic in arriving at this date, or is it this cynical Gran being pessimistic? (as usual.)

So that was it, the end of our sleuthing for the day. Was I any wiser? Not really, but the strange yellow ‘pedestrian’ door intrigued me if nothing else!

TG

My long term readers (if I ever had any and if they are still reading that is) will by now be quite familiar with my moans about our new bus station. considering we all endured one of the coldest winters stood shivering under those temporary open shelters while it was being built only serves to accentuate how and why most of us in our small town who are unfortunate enough to have to use the bus station tend to view it as a costly mistake and are ready to criticize any part of it.

I had to go down to town today to pick up my prescription tablets and do some shopping which then meant I ended up inside it. Having just missed my bus (Wow! That makes a change!) I then spent the first ten minutes or so traversing the entire length of the bus station as I fluctuated between deciding to catch the next bus heading in the general direction of home, which would necessitate a walk with my heavy shopping bag through our estate, or alternatively waiting 25 minutes for our bus which goes around our estate and would therefore require just a short walk from the bus stop to our flat.

Whilst trying to make up my mind, I went to sit down at the other end of the station to our usual stand and noticed that we now have some clue as to what the square ‘boxlike’ area in this half of the bus station is finally going to be. A shop. Yes folks, despite the fact that just across from the bus station, not 30 metres or so away is a street full of them, we are getting a shop inside the bus station. Not the much needed toilets for weary passengers to relieve themselves as they patiently wait for their bus to arrive, not some more seats to park their weary posteriors on as they wait, oh no!  A shop.

We have no public toilets in our small town. In fact, I would warn anyone visiting to go before they arrive if at all possible or run the risk of having to make a dash to one of our supermarkets which unfortunately are both sited at opposite ends of town and are the only shops that contain public toilets. Of course there are also the public houses which could be used in a dire emergency I suppose, but apart from that, then all visitors run the risk of having embarrassing accidents if taken short. You have been warned. This is especially important if arriving by bus.

As I sat there pondering what to do, I noticed some another new additions since I was last in the bus station. On the floor directly outside each bus stands sliding doors there are now huge yellow signs stating the following ‘Priority Waiting Area’ and below this wording two icons, one of a stick person sat on a circle, obviously depicting a wheelchair user, and the other a huge black eye with a stick through it and some lines in the corner.

This sign is placed directly in front of each door and next to the four seats that we all fight each other to sit on.  Are the powers that be insinuating now that we residents of this town would ignore any wheelchair user waiting for a bus and barge onto it in front of them or all stand on that exact spot and not move off it for any reason?  And what’s the stick through the eye all about? I’m presuming it means that blind people have priority to stand on that spot but hang on a minute! If they are blind how on earth will they see the sign and therefore know to stand there?

Honestly!  What sort of people do they think we all are?  Do they think that we are so heartless that we would all barge onto the bus before someone who was in a wheelchair or blind?   Besides, as most of us are having to plonk our backsides on the windowsills whilst waiting for our buses to arrive anyway, so we’re nowhere near the doors!

TG 

Making my  breakfast yesterday as usual, I took out an unopened carton of Tropicana orange juice from  the fridge and began trying to open it. I gripped the top as usual and tried to turn it.   It wouldn’t budge.  I gripped, grabbed, grasped, groaned, grabbed a tea towel, grabbed a dishcloth, tried this, tried that  but it still wouldn’t budge!

 Now I know that my readers will probably think that maybe Technogran has now reached the stage where her grip is not what it was, she has become weak and frail and that was the reason why the top of the carton of Tropicana wouldn’t budge, but I can assure you that is not the reason at all. Some daft person (or machine) had tightened the top so tight I honestly don’t think that Mike Tyson would have been capable of loosening  it!

So how did I eventually manage to drink  my glass of breakfast orange juice?  How did I finally get that blasted top to turn?  Pliers. Yes you read that correctly!  I had to scrabble about in my ‘odds and sods’ cupboard (where all my tackle is stored, step ladder, painting equipment, screwdrivers, paint brushes, vacuum cleaner etc, etc)  and find a pair of pliers to loosen up the top of the Tropicana orange!  I kid you not!

What is it all coming to,  this having to struggle to open modern day packaging?  Don’t they want us to be able to either consume  or use anything we buy?  Or is it some kind of test that we are all put through to see how determined we are to actually use/drink/ eat whatever is contained within?  I could have understood it if it had been something that was bad for me (a sort of brake to dissuade me from consuming the contents because they were unhealthy for example)  but orange juice?  I was absolutely beggared by the time I finally triumphed in loosening the offending top and pouring out the juice.

Today's packaging is a menace in my opinion.  Either it won’t tear or won’t open, and I have done myself many an injury by trying desperately to access the contents. The worst packaging of the lot in my opinion is that ‘moulded’ type plastic usually  surrounding AV equipment such as leads,scarts or remotes and such like. It is usually a very brittle type of plastic and though it looks good with its fancy shapes showing off its contents, its usually clamped tight shut thereby needing a pair of scissors to either cut it open or (as I once used in desperation) a hacksaw.

Once you have managed to get this type of packaging open, you then run the risk of being cut to ribbons by the very sharp edges left by having to cut it open, as you try desperately to subtract whatever lies within.  What is the matter with these people?  Why do they  want to torture us all by putting us through these  dreadful hurdles that we have to undergo every time we purchase  something?  Is it some kind of sick joke on behalf of manufacturers?

“Ha ha! We’ll make them suffer for buying our product!”

I know this, If I could get hold of whoever it was who invented plastics I think I would cheerfully throttle him!

TG   

As my two loyal readers are well aware, we usually go down to exercise class on a Thursday morning, but as the trainers were all on a course today this was cancelled. The other unusual event we had to look forward to today was our annual flu jab booked for this afternoon at 13.55pm. Owing to this change of our usual routine, K and I spent a leisurely morning taking our time getting showered and dressed (well K did, I was also occupied with hanging out some washing and general tidying up etc)

We set off down to town at about 11.45am. It was a lovely autumn morning, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the crisp autumn leaves were crunching underfoot, you get the picture. We passed by the yellow fence surrounding our promised new Swimming pool and were lucky enough to be able to ‘have a nosey’ inside as someone had left a door open in the yellow fence. (yes readers, this yellow fence contains a door)

All I could see though the open door were some parked cars and in the distance some piles of drainage tubes stacked in a triangular fashion. No building or foundations to be seen! Yet hadn’t we just seen an eight wheeler wagon leave the site full of soil? Hmm, I thought to myself, its as I feared! The yellow fence has been erected to hide the fact that hardly any progress is actually being made! Stranger still, three workmen complete with yellow hard hats (all matching the yellow fence) were busily doing something between the yellow fence and the wall.

In fact I have seen more activity around this wall than anywhere else. Of course my lovely daughter had to say something to them as we walked past.

“You look busy” she said innocently to the three workmen.  (Of course this remark made to the workmen simply because she has heard me state that I thought the yellow fence had been erected to disguise the fact that not much work was actually taking place behind it, and proves that you really do have to be careful what you say in front of her. She gets the additional  sarcasm from her Mum.)

 They grunted something in reply and we continued on. We landed in Tesco’s and made our way to the food counter for something to eat. I chose Shepherds pie and K plonked for Curry with rice. We looked around for a vacant table but as usual there were none to be seen. I became annoyed as usual regarding those diners who go and sit down at a table (bagsies) before getting anything to eat, usually with their trolley parked at the side of them taking up room between the tables so that you can’t get past.

‘Mothers United’ were sat down in the middle of the cafe as usual complete with their respective offspring, some occupying highchairs, one plonked in one of those trolleys with the baby seat attached (taking up room between tables) whilst the older offspring were wandering about between the dining tables willy nilly. ‘Mothers United’ are always there on a Thursday, and as there are usually six to eight mothers in total, they naturally require two full tables plus the immediate surrounding area for the high chairs, baby trolleys etc, so no one else has a cat’s in hell chance of squeezing past them.

For all I know, they might all congregate there every day, but as we only tend to go into the restaurant on a Thursday I can only vouch for their presence on that particular day. I did my usual and glowered at them as I vainly tried to squeeze past with my tray full of now going cold dinner in my hands.  We eventually managed to sit down next to a man who was currently by himself but who was waiting for someone to join him. (his wife as it later turned out.)  As we ate, we made polite conversation as you tend to do when sitting at the same table as someone else. 

Once we had finished our meal we did some shopping and then made our way up to the doctors for our flu jab. Our appointment wasn’t until 2.55am so we sat down to wait. The other people kept going in as their name appeared on the board and then quickly coming back out again. Wow! These flu jab nurses were certainly on the ball! In order to help, we took our coats off and in my case my sweatshirt as well so that my upper arms were exposed.

Soon it was my turn and of course K accompanied me. I sat down.

“Which arm do you prefer?” (Nurse with needle poised in her hand.)

“Oh my right arm please as I am left handed.” Me. “Just a sting.” Nurse.

Back up and out the door quickly followed by K who had been ‘stung’ in her right arm. Coats back on, glance at K’s watch, blast! There’s a bus due to leave the bus station in three minutes! Can we make it? Dash out the door, down the steps, run down through the underpass, down through the car park, now with our bus clearly in sight parked at the stand, along the pavement and onto the bus! Just in time! Phew!

We were both puffed out by that mad dash from the doctors, and as is usual for me I enjoyed a coughing fit all through the bus journey home. I was glad to sit down with a lovely cup of tea I can tell you! What a day! Mind you it makes a change to the usual routine I suppose!

TG

As I sat watching Harpers Island the other night, I had to laugh to myself at how far fetched these scary programs and films are. I won’t dwell on the whole story if you haven’t been watching it, but the gist of it is that a group of people have landed on Harpers Island to attend a wedding.

The heroine used to live on the Island previously but left when a mass murderer killed her mother (hung her from a tree to be precise) Once she returns to the island to attend the wedding (now seven years later) the murders begin again and the guests begin to get ‘bumped off’ in various gruesome ways.

Now you and I if we happened to be guests on this Island would surely make sure of the following,

1.  We would stay indoors and make sure that we were never alone but always with a group of people. (preferably as large a group as possible although there aren’t many of them left now who are still in one piece) This would surely ensure that our chances of survival were higher as the killer would  surely think twice before attacking a group of people.

2.   We would not venture into the woods alone at night to either search for someone else who has gone missing or alternatively go investigating something especially with just a feeble torch clutched in our hand.

3. We certainly wouldn’t promise to stay put in the hotel lounge with the few remaining guests who are still alive, and then go looking for someone down in the hotel basement where we decide to split up into two separate groups consisting of just two people who follow this stupidity by crawling through ventilation shafts armed with just a feeble torch. (which keeps fading owing to the fact that the batteries are obviously running out.)

I mean, what is wrong with these people? Are they wanting to have their lives cut short? Are they all insane? Of course they are all suspecting each other and the other night it became clear that the Sheriff didn’t kill the original killer as was thought, because he has suddenly put in an appearance in the latest episode.

Is it him? Is he bumping all the guests off on a wild killing spree to replicate his previous one, and if so, why?

Honestly, how far fetched can you get? Who the heck is stupid enough to sit through this sort of tripe? Ooops! Me for one and I have to confess I have sat through every episode glued to the screen!

My excuse? I’m learning what NOT to do if ever I find myself  invited to a wedding on an Island that happens to have a gruesome  history….

TG   
    

Technorati Tags: Harpers Island,murders,wedding,hotel,woods,torch,investigate,alone,basement,gruesome

 

 I just thought that I would let all my friends on Windows Live know that last week I received the very welcome news that I have now been made an MVP in recognition of the help that I give via my blog posts on Windows Live to other users.

My very grateful thanks to those who considered that I was worthy of receiving this award and I shall continue to help others as much as possible on Windows Live both with using the website itself and also the Windows Live desktop applications.

Thank you.

TG

As I meandered my way to the down to the dentists this morning, I happened to spot a very curious sight. (well to me it looked curious, but then I am a very curious kind of person with a very very vivid imagination.)

Two navy blue gloves had been left on  top of a grate in the road. As I tend to be on the constant look out for interesting subjects to blog about in order to keep my two readers entertained, I felt that this unusual sight was worth a mention, and added to that, seeing as I am in the habit of watching lot’s of murder mysteries into the bargain, my mind began to race with possible explanations as to why the two blue gloves were lying there on top of the grate. NOTE. The two gloves were perfect. There was no tear or damage to be seen. See dear readers how kind I am in providing you with all the forensic evidence you require to come to your own conclusions about this strange sight?

Here are some of the thoughts that immediately occurred to me once I had closely examined the gloves and grate.

1. Someone had entered the grate and lost their gloves whilst replacing the grate cover before their descent into the abyss that lies beneath. (bit far fetched this explanation seeing as the area below the grate cover is only about two foot deep.)

2. Someone tried to lift up the grate with said gloves, couldn’t achieve this and threw the gloves down on top of the grate in sheer frustration and anger.

3. The owner has committed some dastardly deed wearing said gloves, and as the gloves are evidence of said crime, the owner tried to stuff them down the drain but didn’t succeed.

4. The gloves have travelled there by themselves and are at this moment trying to fit themselves through the bars of the grate below in order to escape their owner who has treated them rather badly.

5. The gloves just simply fell out of someone's pocket into the road, and the fact that they fell on top of the grate is purely incidental and occurred quite by chance.

6. The gloves are vainly trying to get down the grate because they are thirsty. (There is some water in the bottom.)

7. The gloves have nothing whatsoever to do with the grate and visa versa, their close proximity to each other is just pure coincidence. (and any relationship between the two is purely conjecture at this stage.)

8. The  author of this blog is some sad old git who is scraping the barrel with subjects to blog about. She also watches far too many murder mysteries than is good for her coupled with the fact that she has too vivid an imagination for her own good. Add to all of this the additional fact that she is also slightly batty and you have your explanation for this rather silly post. (now that’s more like it!)

TG

Technorati Tags: gloves,grate,abyss,anger,evidence,pocket,water,batty,murder,mystery