Silas Marner-like I count...

the pension pounds.

I squirrel, I scrimp, I save.

"The money’s gone I don’t know where, and this is come from I don’t know where."
The arrival of Eppie.

Coins with only a passing resemblance to gold

flow through my fingers.

My nose grazes the oak beams as ever fatter

the mattress becomes.

Bankers... change one letter and you glean

my views.

Suddenly this summer...

there is a sea shift change.

Without rhyme or reason I find...

I can't live without a...

Kitchen Aid mixer.

'Will you use it?'

as he carts the Kenwood off to the Hospice shop.

I deign not to reply.

Never explain, it only weakens your case,

as many a dead politian has discovered to his cost.

20%... a discount not to be sniffed at.

There is one problem, however,
I need to upgrade my laptop.
Mouth opening and closing, words like tadpoles struggling out of their
protecting jelly, I roared off before he had time to
rearrange them into a well known phrase or saying
circa Sunday Night at the London Palladium.
My words out of the top of my sun-roof, 
I like to think soothed him.
'You can have my old one...
 Fibonnaci will be grateful of an airing in the garden, 
as you play with your candles in the dappled shade of the magnolia!'

Yesterday I had a day in Tunbridge Wells.

After a pair of 'new shoes', trousers and a top

into the Apple shop I troll.

Explaining my old MacBook was steam-driven, I gave off buying signals

any self-respecting salesman only dreams of.

Armed with quotes, I happily drove home.

All was content in this little piece of Kent...

that is until...

 sitting watching Question Time last night I discover

that Apple are not to be admired.

Hard on the heels of the Bangladesh sweat shop collapse,

I suddenly felt, and quite rightly so...

a frigging spoilt lump.

Steam-driven it is then.