Yesterday was a Red Letter Day – a day that is pleasantly noteworthy or memorable. The term has its roots in classical antiquity – important days are indicated in red in a calendar dating from the Roman Republic (509–27 BC).
I bet you always wanted to know that.
Please don’t tell anyone.
I’ve opened a Twitter account. Using a pseudonym of course. And it’s only a matter of time before I fire off something a bit too right wing or pro-Brexit or non-PC that attracts what I think is known as a ‘Twitter storm’. However, as no one knows who I am on Twitter, it doesn’t matter, does it? The attacks can’t be personal. The threats would be, in practice, empty. In fact, I might just fire off something OTT anti-Metropolitan-Urban-Elite deliberately to raise blood pressures, and then argue them into the ground.
The other day, with Monday's vile headache threatening to return, I walked about 12 miles. I’d meant to walk about 10, but I got lost, several times. I'd picked up a recommended walk from the hotel website in North Yorks where Hubby and I had decamped for a few days’ R&R (that’s Rest and Relaxation, not Rum and whatever-mixer-starts-with-an-R).
The walk’s written instructions were accompanied by a small-scale map, with the route highlighted in yellow, obliterating key visual details. The text included Yoda-style wisdom (not) such as, “Continue up the hill through the forest”, where there were two possible uphill routes – one went northeast and one northwest. Another said, “Pass through a gap in the wall by the water trough”; there were several gaps and no water troughs.