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Hanging.Free.Masons.

We’re having some masonry work done to the outside of our building and here’s a pic I took of one of the workers:

… and another one when he leaned over, wheeeee….

Meanwhile, Polly the cockatiel sat on her laundry basket, trying to convince herself that The Apocalypse Was Not Nigh…

…and that a snooze might well be achieved, even with the monstrous cacophony of knocking, banging and whirring that was shaking the very foundations of the building.

And yes, that’s Mariah Carey spread out on that Newsweek magazine there, on which Polly has the pleasure of shitting this week. Not that she deserves it poor girl, after all she’s been through. Depression, attempted suicide, weight gain, Glitter, and that awful manipulative husband who made her a star. [Mariah, that is.] Tsk.

Meanwhile, you shall have no weather from me because I’ve already given it once today. Besides, there’s nothing to tell, it’s bloody cold and we have the bane of Icelandic living: a nasty wind from the north. Bleh!

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