Today's mystery picture

So there I was, walking through the park when I noticed a couple of these things in the children's play area. I have no idea what they are. Essentially, they're a funnel on a stick a metre and a bit high (four foot in old money). Inside the funnel is five holes; I can't work out why or where they go. There are two of these; one at each end of the park but don't face each other: they're oriented 30° to each other.

Wotizzit?

Lazy Sunday afternoon

Questions a gentleman must not answer on a Sunday morning:

"Do you think I need a new saddle?"

"Would those boots make my legs look short?"

"That would look better in pink, wouldn't it?"

Of all the gin joints...

As if working late on the first St Val's day in ages where it mattered a hoot wasn't bad enough (the loved one was on late shift), Stockport Plaza had a special one-night-only screening of Casablanca.

I've spent the day trawling through the schedules of The Human Rights Act to see if I can claim compensation for this twist of fate.

Confused metrics

I've mentioned before that mine is the last generation to be able to get its head around the concept of rods, poles or perches. The Small Object Of Desire And Moon Of My Delight tells me that hers is the confused generation:

"I know how long a metre or a mile is but I've no idea of yards or kilometres."

Still here, honestly

Sorry, I've been neglectful. Stuff. You know how it is. And some other stuff. Yes, I'm surprised, too. I'll catch up this week. Meanwhile...