My view at the moment is of water gushing over the remains of a weir, built in 1881, as the first water supply for the town of Forbes, on the Lachlan River and is a peaceful spot to have a long weekend break between visiting branches in two of our 30 Groups of CWA NSW.
The view or its origins did not determine what I intend to write about other than contributing to the lure of the sunny veranda on which to spend time just contemplating the universe and another week of visits. Which led me to thinking about having to wear pantihose again; earth-shattering topic I know, but it spoilt my peaceful ponderings, let me tell you! That and chainsaw man across the river intent on securing his firewood from the very large trunk of a fallen gum tree. It sounded like he needed a bigger chainsaw … or a smaller tree!
Back to the pantihose, which were originally invented by a man for his pregnant wife, that little gem defies belief because nowadays they all seem to be manufactured with waists suitable only for shop window manikins.
After extracting the pantihose from their wrappings and dextrously removing the ever-present cardboard from within one leg that often threatens a ladder before you start, the acrobatics of donning said article begin. Then, just when you think you’ve accomplished the impossible, you realise that somewhere between toe and groin the stocking has twisted and you will be in danger of cutting off vital blood supply unless the situation is rectified.
It’s now taken twice the allotted time allowed for dressing, blood pressure is rising and a personal power-surge is imminent. However you soldier on and manage eventually to haul the offending garment into place only to find the waistband, supposedly designed to “hold” your bits in place is so tight your bits are moving out!
Like many my weight has mimicked the good old yo-yo over the years so I have tried various sizes for various shapes and even trialled using a larger size than I needed. That just ensured I spent the day self-consciously hitching and tugging to not only remove the wrinkles from around my ankles but also to encourage the gusset (to be politically correct) to return to its intended position!!!
Conclusion; smart pants and fake tan = less stress here on my sunny veranda.
Why am I wasting my time and now yours on such mundane thoughts?
There is little else to occupy my mind at present that is not depressingly sad, exceedingly boring or even more ridiculous than my aforementioned musings. Besides what else does one think about whilst feeling drowsy in the sun, watching water endlessly fall, froth and sparkle?