Dunes on Mars

I’ve got my letterbox back again, right after I bought a new one yesterday.

I was out the front this morning as the newspaper lady came by. I apologised for the rubbish bin acting as my temporary box, telling her mine had been stolen.  She said, “Oh, is that yours over there?”

Sure enough, there it was stuck into the ground on the vacant building site about 300m away. That makes it “young people” for sure, just causing mischief.

Unfortunately, they’ve wrenched the rear door off, breaking the plastic (it’s 6mm perspex). I think I can fix it, although it won’t be easy. I may have to find someone to cut me a new door from a piece of plastic, but who? Where?

It looks a bit damaged, but not enough to discard it. Luckily I haven’t opened the packaging of the new one and I have the receipt, so I’ll be able to return it. $92.50! Pity, because I like the new one better than the damaged one. It opens from the top, rather than the rear, so it’s easier for me. Maybe I should keep it. I’ll be bolting it down, though.

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I’ve got new neighbours on the east side and I introduced myself yesterday. They’re a retired couple from the UK (everyone is around here!) and they’re the same age as me (well, he is anyway). The guy’s a London East Ender and I got his life story in about 45 mins of listening to him. Why, oh why can’t people realise they’re dominating the conversation?

Never mind, I think we’ll get along fine, especially as I was able to show them how to program (and turn off) their reticulation. I’ve been invited for a cuppa and to use their pool in summer.

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Did the beach stairs again this morning. Sure is nice down there.