It almost defies my understanding how my younger brother manages to bring his soused butt home ahead of the secret 9:30 p.m. deadline that I have in place for him on those evenings prior to a morning when I have early activity planned, but such was the case last evening.
I was nigh eager to be getting to bed early ─ such that I was seated on the chesterfield in the living room with cellphone in hand, monitoring as the seconds elapsed. It had come to that crucial 9:30 p.m. point in time itself, and all I needed in order to be able conscionably be free of feeling obligated to operate our Android TV Box to watch an episode of even just one of the T.V. series that we follow in common was for 9:31 p.m. to appear.
There was even some suspension involved as I sat waiting for that point in time to show itself.
And then I saw his van stopping on the street outside, and backing into the driveway ... and it was still 9:30 p.m. He had almost miraculously somehow beaten the clock yet again.
If he knew of this deadline, perhaps I could better fathom how he does it; but he knows nothing of it.
It was to be practically 9:45 p.m. before he finished changing in his bedroom upstairs, checking what fare was on offer in the kitchen that my wife had earlier cooked, opening a can of beer and pouring its contents into a mug, and then finally joining me in the darkened living room to seat himself in his favoured padded rocking chair after turning off the stereo and drawing the living room window's blinds.
I tuned in an episode of Chicago PD and opened a can of the strong (8% alcohol) malt that I seek to keep in stock for myself.
Early into the episode he made a couple of unanswered (by me) comments concerning the show's happenings, and which made me aware that he was likely drunker than I initially realized. I know well that it is folly to respond to such comments else it will encourage the sot to hold forth at what often seems nearly interminable length, drowning out all ensuring conversation by the characters.
Often he does not even need for me to respond ─ he will ramble on for several minutes as he 'educates' me concerning something relating to the show's plot. He rambles for so long because he cannot speak in a flowing sequence. Rather, he utters a few words ... pauses for many seconds ... utters a few more ... pauses for more seconds ... etc. He cannot even utter an entire unbroken sentence ─ he seems to need 15 or 20 seconds to conjure up the next few words that will continue the sentence's thought.
When he is drunk, his brain displays the senility one might expect of any drunk who is a month off from having his 70th birthday arrive.
Anyway, after some minutes into the episode he finally grew silent. I was to anon discern that he had passed out. And soon, he was snoring.
He remained passed out for the remainder of the episode. I now of course had grounds to watch nothing further with him, so guilt-free I turned off both the Android TV Box and then the T.V., and headed on upstairs to my bedroom.
However, the silence in the living room apparently was deafening to him and thus he roused, for I heard the T.V. spark back up. We only have a basic cable package for the T.V., so he would not have a great selection of entertainment to choose from ─ especially so since he has no idea how to operate the Android TV Box.
It may have been at least 10:30 p.m. by the time I was into my bed, but I set my cellphone alarm for 2:30 a.m. anyway in order to allow me as much of a jump as possible in getting away on my north Surrey walk ahead of 3 a.m.
Incidentally, my wife had gone out early that previous evening, and was not yet home when I retired from watching T.V. with my besotted brother. I have no idea when she did get home (we have had separate bedrooms since early last November).
The 2:30 a.m. alarm roused me from a light slumber, and I speedily rose, albeit grudgingly. The sooner I readied and got on my way the better because the days become bright so wretchedly early ─ long before 5 a.m.
It was 2:44 a.m. once my hike was underway. My eldest stepson still seemed to be up at the time, but I think that I got away unnoticed.
The rectangular boundaries of my walk were essentially the same as those of my early a.m. walk on Tuesday, two days ago ─ this Google Map ought to be displaying what would be the centre (the intersection of 93rd Avenue & 126th Street) of that rectangle.
My walk's rectangle had 88th and 96th Avenues on one side, and 120th Street (Scott Road) and 132nd Street on the other two sides. Supposedly to have followed those boundaries precisely would have totalled five miles, but I always meander and add distance to the total. Never do I just follow the boundaries. For example, I only walked a quarter of a block at most along 96th Avenue, choosing instead to tread quieter inner roads; and on Scott Road, I possibly walked along it for a single block, and for the very same reason.
I essentially resolved two mysteries that I wrote about yesterday in connection to my walk on Tuesday.
First, I had been wondering if it might be possible to attain what had been the property of a now-demolished home on 88th Avenue that had existed for decades nearly across from where 127th Street terminates onto 88th Avenue (Google Map).
The home that had been there never had a driveway, and was hidden from view among trees. Its only access was a small gate in a fairly high fence. It was the only home on that side of 88th Avenue betwixt 128th Street and Scott Road, a distance of a mile ─ it was most unique. The tenants who lived there would never have been able to park any cars that they might have owned near to their home because there is no parking allowed along 88th Avenue.
I rather badly wanted to scout that property, for it looked almost park-like when peered at through the high fencing that is there. I would have liked to have seen if there were any fruit trees there, and garden flowers that were still surviving, for I am quite sure that the house did still exist two years ago.
I was wearing very restricting tight jeans; and at my age of 72, I felt that it would have been folly to have attempted to scale the darned fence. And so even though it was still dark, I decided to walk over to 128th Street and hike well beyond the Invergarry Adult Education Centre (formerly David Brankin Elementary School from 1945 until the very end of 1999) to see if there was some sort of trail in the thick woods.
Well, in the dark, I was able to discern what appeared to be a rudimentary trail, so I slowly and cautiously explored the rather meandering course, wary that I might come upon some homeless person's shelter.
It took time, but ultimately I did eventually find my way to what I am sure was the back of the former home's property, but even there it was fenced in ─ the fence rose well above my head, and had been there for many years, for there were trees half a foot thick here and there that had leaned overtop of the fence and possibly become joined with its top.
Had it not been so dark, and had I not been wearing the ridiculously tight jeans that I was, I would have been tempted to scale one of those leaning trees and thereby enter the forbidden property that a sign (along 88th Avenue) announces is proposed for rezoning from residential to commercial usage.
Thwarted in this bid to gain 'backdoor' entry to the property, I was left with no choice but to wend my way back to 128th Street ─ which I did not easily do, at least once losing all trace of the rudimentary trail. And I was constantly wiping light spiderwebs from my head, and having to take care not to walk into the end of any low branches directed at my face.
The next mystery I resolved was for the first time in my many years of living in this part of Surrey, finally laying eyes upon the "Red Cedar Stump". I have no idea how many times over the years I have cycled past and even walked past the stump, and never before noticed it.
And now I know why.
I have no idea how long ago that photo was taken, but today the stump is largely obscured by quite high shrubs and maybe even a high and luxurious rose trellis. This is so much so that it would be largely futile to try taking a photo of the stump from the perspective of the street. In fact, in the gloom of the pre-dawn, I could barely make out the stump due to the high greenery that now obscures its view from the street ─ one would have to trespass onto the front lawn of that house in order to see the stump in its unobstructed glory.
Heck, I barely noticed that "storyboard" sign that you can just make out which is posted at the left border of the photo, and just above the white fence. I had to actually seek it, for I knew it was there from having checked out this Surrey Now-Leader article published on July 5 last year, and which I linked to here yesterday.
That article does have a view of the stump from inside the homeowner's property, incidentally.
Maybe if the day had been bright and sunny, it might have been worth taking a streetside photo of the stump, but not in the pre-dawn conditions under which I saw it.
By the time I was back home, it was likely 4:57 or 4:58 a.m. under an overcast sky. I was back in bed by maybe 5:40 a.m., and I remained there for four more hours. When I rose, I was to discover that it had been raining for some while, and it would continue to do so ─ sometimes quite hard ─ for the entire day.
Certainly not weather conditions to be prowling around in the thick, dark woods like I had been doing during my walk!
Regardless, when I went downstairs to boil water for my day's first instant coffee and then to join my brother for some T.V., I heard my youngest stepson coming into the house, and then go into the boys' den area where he has his bed.
I then noticed that he was not alone ─ and initially I thought that it was his mother who was with him, for she was fairly tall and from the side seemed to have an Asian face, and had quite long black hair.
She also had on a pair of dark tights like my wife will sometimes wear ... but then I noticed that the legs in those tights seemed considerably more filled out than my wife's slim legs.
The lad had brought home a female companion. And soon, the lights in that area were turned off.
It was at this time that my wife made her appearance (she had been showering upstairs), for she had to work a full day today at the Thai restaurant where she has part-time employment (the restaurant opens at 11 a.m.).
I was able to whisper to her that her youngest had a girlfriend with him.
Alas, she had no choice but to be on her way to work, so she could not investigate for herself. Unfortunately, once she was outside to her car, the horn started sounding, and this went on for some while. I was unsure that it was her car, but my brother kept watching from where he was seated in his padded rocking chair.
To be honest, I did not even know that my wife had a security system to her car.
After a time she came back to the house and desperately called to my brother to see if there was anything he could do, for she could not even get her automated key fob to open her car door.
As he was putting on footwear and a coat, she suddenly got the wretched device to function properly, and the horn went silent. He did not need to go outside.
My poor wife! What a start to her wet morning and long day.
Once my brother had turned the T.V. over to me to put our Android TV Box into action, we were to watch two videos, beginning with a May 28 uploaded to Banned.video: Minions of the New World Order | Episode 18.
Author and journalist Matthew Ehret joins the show to chat with Liberty Man about the evolution of the New World Order empire in modern history. They discuss some of the front men of the globalist cabal and the methods they use to steer civil society towards their ultimate and final revolution.
Matthew Ehret certainly has an extensive memory for world history!
He seemed to be vaguely familiar, and his name was even more so. I must have seen him on video before.
The show was 1¾ hours in duration, and so it was that I only had time to fetch one further video ere my brother sought some bed rest, so I chose an hour and four-minute June 6 Rumble upload by Laura-Lynn Tyler Thompson: Diego Rodriguez Today with Laura-Lynn.
Diego Rodriguez is a professional speaker and the marketing director of Freedom Man Press – using this site, he has been able to inform people about many political stories that the Mainstream Media will not cover. Visit his website here: https://www.freedomman.org/
To support Michael Jackson, visit the link here: https://gogetfunding.com/legal-defense-for-canadian-father-protecting-his-child/
Michael Jackson is a Canadian father who has currently be in jail for over 100 days for trying to save his seven-year old daughter from being inoculated against his and her will simply because the brainwashed mother believes the corrupt government and health 'authorities' know best.
These various events make me feel so damned frustrated and impotent!
Anyway, after my brother was shut up in his bedroom and I was finally upstairs here at my computer having my day's first meal, my youngest stepson and his girlfriend evidently completed their 'booty call' and I expect that she soon enough left.
It was right around then that my brother re-emerged from his bedroom and went downstairs, so I do not know if he actually saw the girl. He would soon be leaving in the rain to catch a bus in order to rendezvous at some pub with one or two of his drinking buddies. The pub is located farther from here than he cares to be risking driving home from when the drinking is done, so he will bus ─ usually, the trip each way involves two buses.
As a result, I know that he will not be home this evening until around 10 p.m. at earliest, but I will remain up in the hope that his bus trip home will have him refreshed enough that he will be able to actually watch a couple of the shows that we follow in common.
So we shall see.
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