SSDS

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Same Sh*t, Different Saturday.

Stayed up too late watching footy. Maybe a brandy. Maybe two.

Wake late after remarkable dreams of Winston Churchill doing a speech before we all had to hide from an impending air raid. I have no idea either. Wander downstairs. Coffee. Check in with the neighbourhood whatsapp group on the break-ins last night. Four. Great. Breakfast. Paint the laundry. As you do. Just the bit behind the beer fridge and the washing machine. No-one sees it anyway. Revise maths and history with the boy. uMkhonto weSizwe. Lilliesleaf. The Rivonia Trial. Pythagoras. And the train that leaves Edinburgh for London at a certain time and a certain speed. You know the rest. No replacement bus service. Remarkable. Get stung by a bee. Bastard. Gym. Because when your 13 year old wants to do something not involving a screen, you jump at the opportunity. Miles and miles on the static bike. Not quite Edinburgh to London, but still. Heart rate up to 183. Another hour of lifting, stretching, sprinting, sweating, dying. Home now and legs a bit hurty if I’m completely honest. I’m usually always completely honest. Considering motivating for UberEats tonight. We deserve it.

Might stay up too late watching footy. Maybe a brandy. Maybe two.

Bowls and WordPress

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And thus, the plan to play bowls when I am older was set in pixels. Here.
I don’t want to take up bowls now. I’m too young. I enjoyed the casual social league that we played in this last month because of the fact that it was casual and despite the fact that it was social. I might even wander along to their other casual, social bowls events. But I’m not ready to commit myself to playing week in week out right now.

But therein lies a problem. If ever there was a sport in which you improve the more you play, it’s bowls. (Actually, it’s pretty much all sports, but that doesn’t particularly suit my rather focussed narrative here.) So when I get around to playing bowls, anyone who took it up at a younger age will probably be a lot better than I am. I’ll constantly be playing catch-up. (And bowls, obviously.) If I am going to play bowls when I’m older I’d like to be quite good at it. I don’t mind losing, but there’s no fun in being beaten every single time you take to the lawn.

Which brings me to WordPress. WordPress is the software that allows me to write my blog. So if you want to complain to someone about my blog, complain to them. I really don’t need to hear your negativity.

WordPress has something called a block editor, which – when they introduced it eleven months ago – scared me shitless. Fortunately, a workaround was found and I’ve never really looked back. I’ve never really needed to.

The block editor was introduced in WordPress 5.0, and we’re now on 5.3.
5.3, they say:

…expands and refines the block editor introduced in WordPress 5.0 with a new block, more intuitive interactions, and improved accessibility.

…which sounds quite promising.

So basically, not only is the block editor clearly here to stay, but it’s also now really good (according to WordPress, at least). Maybe it’s time that I took the plunge and give the block editor a go: switch off my Classic Editor plugin, safe in the knowledge that I can switch it straight back on again if I don’t like what happens.

Otherwise, the alternative is trying again in twenty years and being really rubbish at it compared to everyone else.

Bowling in the rain

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Not the exciting 10-pin version. The oldiewonk bowling green version. Great fun though and a top three finish in our first ever four week long bowling league, but I wouldn’t advise doing it in tonight’s weather (careful now).

Orthographic rain stretched rather too far away from the mountain, meaning that everything was mildly damp. It wasn’t quite the sunshine and GnT funfest we’d signed up for. And who knew that you had to allow for wind when bowling?

Still: nothing ventured, nothing gained. It was fun. Nice people. And I have a few cheap bottles of wine for our troubles.

Give it twenty years or so and I might be a more regular bowler. For now, though: football, while I still can.

Things we need to talk about

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It’s an unusual phrase, “The elephant in the room”, isn’t it? I mean, it works in some ways, because it’s something that everyone is fully aware of – how could you not notice an elephant in a room? – but if there was an actual elephant in a room I was in, I would probably want to do something about it. Like quite possibly leave the room. Elephants don’t belong in rooms and therefore, an elephant in a room is likely to be rather pissed off.

And after this week, The giraffe in the safari vehicle.

Although, we’ve talked about the dangers of giraffes before on here, haven’t we?