My Giddy Social Whirl

A Bit Of An Oxymoron -
Given the unsocial standoffishness of Conrad, you are quite entitled to query whether anyone else can tolerate him for an extended period of time.  Yes they can! is the answer.  Not only that, the non-appearance of a proper blog yesterday, the lack of a repeat post today and the lateness of this very post is proof positive that your humble scribe has, at the very least, a social circle*.
     If you are unaware then your modest artisan was out last night at the Black Dog Ballroom, totally rockin' it as Oldest Man In The Room, then it was off to Salford and what the young folk call a "gig" (hard "g" just so you know).  Today it was off to pick up the young folks, attend Darling Daughter's art exhibition, chow down at Yo Sushi, collect dresser made of solid neutronium and return to the Mansion.
     Oh, may I offer up more proof of Jib Cranes Being Alien Spies:

There they are!

     I used the Zoom function to get this photo, as the previous one merely showed a binary blue blur, and I've felt guilty ever since.  You can see that the cranes have changed position and are now spying in a totally different direction. North.  Probably scoping out RAF Coningsby and the possibly nuclear-armed Tornadoes of 36 Squadron based there.
     Anyway, turning from outside the office to inside the office, there were cakes asale for our official charity, the British Red Cross.  Art?

Eh voila

     Conrad's Gluten-free Red Velvet Cupcakes with Stay-Puft icing towards the top.

Edna The Scamp
Typically, when Edna gets into trouble, this somehow rebounds onto Conrad and he ends up the villain of the piece.  Outsmarted by a dog.  Humiliating.
     "We cannot believe this, Conrad!" I hear you disagree.  "Surely there is some mistake?"
     If only there were steak, instead we had Salted Caramel Popcorn.  Conrad, you see, had left a rolled-up packet that contained only stale dregs in his bin while he went out shopping.  He forgot to close the door to the Upstairs Lair, and consequently Edna discovered the packet, decided "Hmm, in the bin, not to be touched - I KNOW I'LL TOUCH IT!"
     Then she appears downstairs, head covered with bits of sticky deliquescing popcorn, carrying a "Yeah? What?  Ain't done nothing" attitude as Wonder Wifey clucks in alarm and condemns Conrad to perdition.  Yes, Conrad.  Edna gets off scot-free.

Not so the popcorn: note glistening empty packet.

First Bus Get It Right!
I'm lying.  They didn't.  Now, where would I be without First Bus?
     "Probably on time at the right location," I hear your sarcastic response, and I like it, do keep it up.
     Yesterday, once again, at rush hour from Rochdale to Manchester we get a single decker 24 heading into Manchester. I suppose we should be pathetically grateful it turned up at all, let alone almost on time.  Anyway, being a single-decker it ended up rammed.  Jammed.  Crammed.  Probably Damned as well, just to play to the theme.

Concept art for First Bus posters

     At Dean Lane Conrad spots another 24, the service heading into Rochdale from Manchester.  It's a double-decker and it has 3 passengers on board.  I know because I counted them.
     Thank the Lord that First bus aren't responsible for anything important like getting people into work on time!
    O no wait a minute -

More Of Crosswords
If you don't like crosswords then THE EXIT DOOR IS THAT WAY!  Conrad himself is very keen on these intellectual battles of wits between the compiler and he.  What I have found** is that if you're stumped on a clue, it is fruitful to leave the crossword and go do another activity, as your mind stops going round in a circle.  Like this -

That Blasted Neutronium Dresser
You will recall Conrad banging on about the sheer physical effort of humping this monster up out of a cellar, out of a house and on top of the Murdermobile, then humping it into the hallway of Darling Daughter's residence.  Today was the crunch day of getting it from Longsight to The Mansion, all the way north in Royton.  Art?

Solid neutronium.  Really

     This is only the beginning of lashing it to the roof, there was another 25 metres of cord that went on.  And around, and over, and down.  All to good end, the dresser didn't move an inch on the long journey back despite hills, sharp bends, potholes and speed bumps.

 - and that's enough for this afternoon's post.
     "What?  You can't leave us hanging over that crossword post, Conrad!" I hear you call.
     O can't I -



*  Two counts as a circle?
** I hope you aren't nonplussed by the jump from third to first person, it's just how Conrad is***.
*** The swine!