At Fountain Colliery, Harry Hunslet has decided to fire his engine with old rubber tyres and moonshine which has produced around 33% more power than usually expected from Forest of Dean coal.
The result is some serious clag of the sort that will get neurotic electric milk float drivers twitching with horror over their organic granola and spring water breakfasts.
And talking of breakfast, my post is a little earlier today, due to Bertie hound who bases his time on when to get up around the level of brightness and decibel level of the birds, which is currently a couple of minutes earlier every morning.
This was fine, for the bathroom was needed, so sorted out the little fella (the hound, not my Flying Scotsman) with his breakfast. But then I spotted a huge number of feathers surrounding a headless pigeon in the garden, probably the result of the local crows fancying a bit of sport. So a hole was dug at the end of the garden so I could bury the headless deceased bird. I then placed a heavy plant pot over the grave, in the hope that the local suburban fox population won’t dig it up for their breakfast.
I shall now have my breakfast.
Ps. I never found the pigeon head, but I imagine the local crows have a huge collection of pigeon heads as trophies lining their evil lairs.