Waistcoat? Check!
Cool hat? Check!
Binoculars? Check!
Horse? Check!

Sandals or no sandals, I used to be a cowboy!
Riding the range (Shepherd Hey Farm in the Ashworth Valley), dirt on my butties, floaty bits in my milk bottle of water.
On the hunt for scalpers (“Red Indians”), I had no idea what to do when I caught them, not having any guns, but my birthday was coming up, so I could keep the “Baddies” locked up until I might get some.

Today’s battle for this fading cowboy, waiting (prowling the range) for a promised call back (from the baddies), for six hours, then ringing them up myself (hunting) and trying to pin them down as to why they are taking money (bank robbing?) from a benefit claimant (tee-pee dweller).

Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it?

I know which one I’d rather be!

When: Monday tea time
Nosh: £1.50 asda cheese & tommy pizza
Mood: A wasted day
Tune: Dead or alive – Bon Jovi.

Good luck fellow cowboys, hope your hunting is more fruitful than mine was today.