Day 173: The unpredicted

Exile #3 tickled E5N1's toes with this 'feather' duster for a while and then decided that it made a good wig. Well he is quite bald at the moment, but I didn't predict that he'd end up with a shock of blue hair.

This morning I went back to fill the car up at the same gas-station where I bought my first diesel Last time, people seemed to think I was some kind of weirdo. Today around the diesel pump, I was the star of the show. "Hey man, what sort of mileage do you get from that? 40 Yeah? On the open road?? No - around town??? Beats my 14 mpg. (In fact today's calculations show I'd achieved closer to 36 mpg - remember UK readers that a gallon here is not what it is there - so I'd be getting 43 mpg (= 36 mpUSg) there!) At this point another guy walks up. "Hey I saw these all over Europe when I was there, but I've never seen one here. Cool!" I didn't predict that reaction either.

Oh yes, and a poem by John Heath-Stubbs that I first saw on a poster on a train on the London Underground and immediately loved. I assume that reproducing it here would be copyright infringement, so instead I offer the first line and an invitation to click!

The goddess fortune be praised (on her toothed wheel I have been mincemeat...)