Poo Scented Coffee

The run to Cromwell was lovely in the morning light. It is fruit country. It was just a quick pick up and return, so we managed coffee at home together when he dropped me off. But it'll be coffee at the poo works the next opportunity. Things have gone up market there since his boss moved to town and can't get Broadband at his appartment. He has to make his office at the works, in the scabby wee portacabin, and has upgraded it as much as possible by installing his coffee machine. Complete with milk frother, and grinder for beans. He also supplied Spook with a new tool. An air rifle for shooting vermin!

I came home from town to find the mail scattered accross the yard. A gust of wind must have blown through the box and puffed the letters out the other side. Yesterday I found the postie, who drives up and down all the grass verges without ever getting off his bike, balancing my parcels on the top of the mail box. And there they would have stayed all day, had I been working, until I came home, or someone who sensed that the whole series of Twilight was encased within, took a fancy to them. If I remember, I must go and take a photograph of the mail boxes in Albert Town which are all at the end of the street, because the posties haven't learnt where all the houses are yet. Most of the boxes are not locked and apparently things don't go missing!