Burns Night

I've had a clumsy day today - hoping it doesn't carry on to be a clumsy evening as that could get embarrassing...

In the new shed over the allotment, Brian has put up a thick plywood backboard (from which I can suspend tools) and a couple of plywood shelves. At home the garage is packed with carefully hoarded leftovers from years gone by, so without too much difficulty I was able to acquire half a tin of teak-coloured wood preserver to treat the plywood. It was a pleasant task, not requiring a great deal of finesse, and as I happily wielded the wood-stain loaded brush, my thoughts were trundling off in other directions not paying much attention to what I was doing. Then I almost dropped the brush, which made me jerk the other hand carrying the tin, which slopped a large quantity of the deep brown liquid over my hand, wrist and the floor. I was wearing latex gloves, but they didn't extend up the wrists. I mopped up as best I could with the kitchen towels I happened to have to hand and carried on to finish the job, then came home and discarded the ruined top I'd been wearing and washed off as much as possible of the wood preserver, leaving only a suggestion of an odd-shaped area of tan.

Whilst cooking the dinner I spilled a quantity of uncooked rice, then slopped soup out of the bowls, then dropped the loaf of bread. Tonight I'm off to a Burns Night Ceilidh , and would rather like to engage in some graceful dancing. Let's hope the 'clumsy' virus has passed out of my system.

A traditional Burns Night Celebration usually includes a supper of Haggis and bashed neeps, and I can't recall any barn dances I've been to which haven't included a meal, but apparently tonight's doesn't. Oh well, more time for dancing, I suppose.