Friday at last!
And what a week it’s been!
The main fright to come out of this week is the terrible news that my internet service provider has had their website hacked and one’s and 3,999,999+ other folk have had our personal details stolen… by Russian Islamic Fundamentalists if the news reports are to be believed.
When I heard news the other day that TalkTalk, my ISP, had suffered a prolonged attack on their servers, I instantly recollected that I’d bought myself a new router midweek and wondered if something had happened with its configuration with my computer which has also recently upgraded from Windows 7 to Windows 10 without passing Go, and that had somehow sent a wayward message onto the TalkTalk servers which instantly realised that my router wasn’t the original router that they had sent to me, and went into meltdown.
I slapped myself silly for being so silly. And then breathed again. People buy new routers all the time, I told myself.
I accidentally answered a call from a withheld number earlier this evening, and it was an automated message that said something like “Have you had your personal data stolen in the last three years? If so, we can help. Press…” I hung up.
I then suddenly realised… MORE SPAM! Eeeek!!!
I’m being flippant, but it’s serious business, spam.
At the beginning of the month, this lot left the confines of my Mind to go out and explore the surrounding Grinds:
There are actually five of them, my Inner Zombie, my Inner Woman (Thomasina), my Inner Bogeyman, my Inner Creation and Fingers – or Fangers as he wants to be called this month – my Inner Typist. Fangers seems to be camera-shy and doesn’t want to have his photo taken, which is quite lucky as it happens because the layout of this post would look terrible with five photos to fit into it. It isn’t actually that impressive with four, if I’m being honest, but I digress. Back to the external Inners:
I received a postcard from them the other day, out of the blue:
It’s simply marvellous, Dahling, out here in the Grinds. The cold, the dark, the damp wet rain and the misty mornings… simply stunning. Far better than being stuck inside that stuffy old mind listening to all those strange thoughts and putting up with the likes of the Zombie. Anyhow, we’re having a lovely time here and will see you soon. It isn’t long before the Gathering occurs this year, and we can all party like it’s 1999. Fingers says Hi!
Will write again soon if I get the time. Mwah!
I don’t think Thomasina’s ever written a postcard in her life. I don’t even think she realises that she’s actually out there with the Zombie either. Her mind is obviously away on other things.
Earlier today, I was meandering around the lake. Not the Lake lake, the Lake in the Grinds, but another lake situated in leafy-green Cheshire. Well, it’s more like leafy-orange-red-brown-yellow-gold-green Cheshire right now, but leafy-green is easier to type. And there are quite a few lakes here in leafy-green Cheshire.
The lake was peaceful and calm, and gently covered in a carpet of ducks. A mouse ran across my path, and a little black cat watched me from within the foliage as I walked passed it. It thought I hadn’t seen it, but with bright yellow glowing eyes, it was actually quite hard to miss. It was all very sedate, when suddenly some buffoon set off a loud firework. The cat scarpered out of the greenery, I haven’t a clue what happened to the mouse, I leapt out of my skin, and every single duck upon the lake jumped in unison. It was splashes galore as they all settled down again, but instinctively quacked their automatic warning quacks. A chorus of quacking ducks quacking in time with each other is a sound to behold, I can tell you. Less of a cacophony (hehehe quackophony – I love dreadful puns on words!) and more of a chant. Hypnotic and surreal.
A little like this week, to be honest.
It Feels Good living the surreal life. Terrorists aside, that is.