Another day of turning perfectly good furniture into firewood. 
Today, the huge reception desk in, errr, reception, bit the dust. It was this lovely, custom made thing, that weights close on 100 stone (or, if you prefer that in Roman Catholic, 250kg) with a desktop you can disassemble cars on, and which is thicker than an office block. It’s also like one of those Chinese puzzles, with screws hidden behind false walls that are glued on, with trim stuck around them. At one stage I got so desperate I was on the stage of getting the axe from Aldi, and turning it into kindling for next winter. No fear, it eventually gave way under the weight of a yard long crowbar.
Meanwhile – as they say – out in the garden, 
which is growing ever more rampant and luxurious as the growing season ends (in Australia, things tend to grow wild in the winter, and then turn into a dry husk in the summer – never let it be said that it’s not a topsy turvey world Down Under, where even the seasons are reversed) I’ve been hearing this strange rustle in the bushes. What is this strange beast that lurks, undetected, in the shrubbery. Mice? Snakes? Snakes eating the mice? Another night parrot? No… it’s a family of newts that live down the well.
However, just at the moment, I can't really deal with them - I have too many irons in the air, and balls in the fire.
