This pooch poops off-path

Like a wheel within a wheel:

So I now have my pilot’s medical certificate (only took three months from start to finish) and the application for the reissue of my Airline Transport Pilot Licence is with the Civil Aviation Authority. I’m waiting to hear when my simulator assessment will take place–

Spiraling round the circle:

–and trying hard not to spend any money that I got from the sale of my catamaran,Troutbridge–in the main successfully but I must admit to buying a Bose docking system for my iPod. The last one worked very well but didn’t take to being immersed in salt water for some reason. All things considered, I seem to have been here before in my life, I have a definite sense of déjà vu and no, that isn’t a new channel on Freeview. What goes round comes round and if we repeat patterns in our lives I will have to live to be about one hundred and twenty to fit it all in again.

Pooping pooch:

I’m staying with some old friends at the moment. Just to be clear, at least one of them is old and the other is looking really great for her age but I’ve known them both for a long time. They’re off decorating one of their houses this morning, so with some trepidation I took the dog for a walk. Dogs really have got us human well trained, haven’t they? Name another species that has  humans follow it around and pick-up it’s poop. I gave the dog a talking to before we left the house and I have to say, she must have listened and taken pity on me. There were several dashes into nearby fields but nary a hint of a squat on public paths. I must have walked a couple of miles and the dog must have galloped about five–hmm, I wonder who’s actually smarter? OK yes, it’s the dog.

Ever spinning but no beginning:

I keep getting flashes of inspiration for three new books but when I sit down in front of the keyboard, nothing happens. This is nothing to do with Windows 8.1–I still hate it and I suspect the feeling is mutual–and everything to do with words jangling in my mind. When I try to follow the thread it leads me down never-ending tunnels and never emerges into the sunlight. Yes I know, just sit down and write something, anything. You know what? I’ve just done exactly that and I suspect that you’re with me in a cavern where inspiration is like the ripples in a stream. You think you see a pattern but you can’t get hold of the damn thing. Normally, if I’m writing, as in writing a book, when I produce a load of rambling rubbish I delete it.

Sorry, I’m afraid you’re stuck with this lot.

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