mattresses... lots of mattresses... apparently...

Hmm. This morning's meteorological inclemency prevented the Execution of the Plan and none of my lunchwalk-sparkly-water shots turned out sufficiently interesting. Not many links today although The Unobtrusificator deserves a mention for looking so nonchalant. Luckily I happened to choose a route-variation homewards which resulted in passing the courtyard (though it sounds too grand a term for the bit in the middle of some dull boxflats and wasn't even cobbled) in which these were sitting. Whilst there are probably sound hygienic reasons for their disposal I hate to see nice bouncy (or at least squelchy at the moment) mattresses wasted; they could be so useful as a soft landing from somewhere easy to climb up to but difficult to descend. I for one would be perfectly happy to spend most of the night dragging them two by two over to West Crosscauseway to form an inconvenient barrier to piss off all the dingbat taxi drivers who think they're going to save more than a couple of seconds by steaming through to Buccleuch Street rather than wait a single moment at the St. Patrick Street pedestrian crossing.

I had to spend an unpleasant hour sifting through my old hoarded pieces of paper earlier this evening. Nicky was supposed to be sorting through her boxes of not-currently-used clothings to siphon some off for charity shops but she ended up going a couple of boxes deeper and started poking at stuff which I simply have to keep without being able to adequately explain why. I sacrificed an old shirt thing or two and some back issues of Empire in order to save my old sheaves of lyrics and some boxes of New Scientists. If only I had a shed...