Dorktown, school days and tractors

23 May 2012

Someone asked me not too long why I call the town in Dorktown.  I replied at the time that it was because the vast majority of people who live here are dorks.  He claimed that I was being too harsh.  But was I?  Here's what I found a few weeks ago on one of the odd warm days and I was out on my scooter ... 

Totally selfish parking as per normal.

Today's weather is just glorious isn't it?  But not according to some Dorktowners down town; they are complaining about it being too hot and they want the rain to come.  A few weeks ago the same people were complaining about there being too much rain.  Never being happy is a sure sign of a Dorktowner.

Nothing done on Photo Finish or 18 Months Later yesterday but hopefully I will get some done on one or t'ther of them.  Jan is going out and is taking the trifle I am making ... if I get it finished for her ;-)))

There's not much going on anywhere around here at the moment.  Even the market is quiet.  Perhaps the sunny weather has made them a bit weak.  At least most of kids are still in school.  I remember my school days when it was warm and hot and we used to sit in class sweating buckets and wish the school day would end so we could get out and run around and get even more hot a sweaty.  Those were the days hey?  Those far off days of ... ... ...

I'll be generous and given you a second photo ... 

a nice sunny day and a queue for an ice cream.  The same van is there today too.

And yet another  dddeeeerrrr ...

An old English farmer had spent his life collecting tractors: every time one broke down irreparably or became hopelessly out of date, he refused to sell it, instead keeping it in a large barn. He even bought used tractors from other farmers. He worked on them and polished them, treating them like museum exhibits. Eventually it came time for him to retire, and he decided to sell off his massive collection so that he could live comfortably with his wife in a nice country cottage. So he put advertisements in local and national papers, and waited. He didn't have long to wait: a few days later he received a letter from a visiting American businessman, whose company had built some of the tractors
mentioned in the advert and who had an interest in old vehicles himself. After a couple more letters the two arranged to meet in the farmer's local inn/pub on the coming Saturday. That evening came and the businessman arrived. Despite the heavy clouds of pipe smoke, and an hour passed in most pleasant conversation, the pair turning out to have much in common. "Well," sighed the farmer eventually, "I haven't had such a good yak for a long time, but I suppose it's about time we got down to business, eh?" "Sure," replied the other, "but maybe we could go somewhere else? Y'see, I'm findin' it kinda hard to concentrate with this much smoke." "Ah, there's no need for that", said the farmer, "watch this!" He then proceeded to take an amazingly deep, deep breath, sucking in every last particle of smoke in the room. Then he leaned over to the partially open window behind him and blew all the smoke out into the night. "Hey, how the heck did you manage that?" gasped the American. "Oh, it was nothing; you see, I'm an ex-tractor fan."