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The other day I asked my daughter how far she was from Swanley. Predictive text changed that to "how far are you from swanky?" Of course, I spotted it and retyped it. But the spelling gremlin hadn't finished and changed it to "how far are you from Stanley?”

I've got the predictive text turned off, but occasionally it still tries to second guess what I'm typing.
 
There is some overlap with this documentary. One of the things that came out of it was that because junk food has been made to be so pleasurable (!) to eat, it acts on the same part of the brain that reacts to addictive substances such as alcohol and cigarettes etc. So the more you eat it, the more you want to eat it. I found that quite sobering, I must admit.
My only experience of this effect is with sour cola sweets, the ones frosted in sugar laced with citric acid.
A few days ago I bought a bag, 200g I think.
On the 20 minute drive back I had eaten quite a few. I left them in the car but later after my dinner I sought them out.
The empty bag was in the bin before I turned in for the night.
 
The other day I asked my daughter how far she was from Swanley. Predictive text changed that to "how far are you from swanky?" Of course, I spotted it and retyped it. But the spelling gremlin hadn't finished and changed it to "how far are you from Stanley?”
Sometimes I have cause to type the word bush and right there is when my phone called me a liar by me not having to go back and remove the capital B.
My use of the word bush is not to do with some dealer client relationship its merely what I have a few of, in my garden as it were.
 
Well, that didn't *quite* go to plan...

After negotiating a particularly nasty dip-and-bump, my saddle clamp suddenly developed a mind of its own in the nose-up-and-down department. Since I'm unlikely to find a pair of 13mm spanners in the middle of Fodder Fen, I had no choice but to keep going. It gradually got worse, to the point I had to finish the last four miles of my ride with one hand on the nose of the saddle to keep the thing level-ish.

My poor lady bits are rather thoroughly mashed. Although oddly, my bum doesn't hurt.

Also, one of my grips came loose, but that was a minor irritation in the scheme of things.

Still, twelve miles on a bike (Max the MTB) in the lovely sunshine. There's a lot of things worse than that. :smile: I now have a :cuppa: and two chocolate chip biskits.
 
Those are cat-show-o'clock starts, @randynewmanscat :laugh:

Anyways, speaking of cats, it's time to go feed the terrible twosome, and then it will be time to feed me. :hungry:
 
It's the best time of the day to get some miles done
Biggs the worst part is that I know this to be truth, its not the traffic for me, there isn't any. Its the time of day, the most beautiful time of day and not scorching in summer.
It is a wistful fantasy for me, I don't hate the early morning, I'm just not about to enjoy it.
 

LeetleGreyCells

Un rouleur infatigable
I trust he already gets greetings cards from your hounds insurers or has your bank account details on file.
In 15 years, he’s never needed insurance. He’s making up for that now. I think what upsets me most is due to the number of times I have been to the vets in the last 8 weeks, they no longer ask for my name at the desk. They know me by sight. That is not good.
 
In 15 years, he’s never needed insurance. He’s making up for that now. I think what upsets me most is due to the number of times I have been to the vets in the last 8 weeks, they no longer ask for my name at the desk. They know me by sight. That is not good.
He is 15, you will be on first name terms before you know it and I mean no humour by that.
 
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