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Sunday, 30 October 2011

Sunday Sublime

What a lovely day

The temperature was 18ÂșC at 8:00am this morning, with blue skies overhead.

After a leisurely (and virtually fat-free) breakfast, my beloved and I spent most of the day weeding the flower beds on the back deck.
What I Got

A lunch of fat-free crackers and Herring fillets filled the hunger void quite nicely, along with a cup of Alpine Tea (reduces stress), then back to the weeding and debris removal via a weed eater and leaf-blower. 

What a fulfilling and exciting day.

My beloved has just dozed off on the couch after her rigours, so I'm now on my own..............


It's a f*cking nightmare.

My son (he of the pierced earlobe and tattooed forearm showing a delightfully rendered image of the Mexican Day of the Dead with the addition of a Chinese script which he was told meant "May the Lord Bless You" but which really says "I've got a Bastard of a Cold") has just finished a 4 egg Cheese Omelet with a side of 5 rashers of bacon and two slices of heavily buttered toast, while I munch through the healthy crap.

What I wanted

I want to spend the day (after a fat-filled breakfast with plenty of bacon) lying in a semi-conscious haze under the gorgeous blue NZ sky, keeping my alcohol level topped up with judicious sips of a very nice 2008 Hawke's Bay Merlot, and listening to my favourite books on audio tape (MP3 actually)

Not sweating under the lovely, but blazing hot sun pulling out f*cking weeds.  Why the hell do you think they invented GLYPHOSATE?

I've just time to grab a quick gulp of the Merlot, then back to pseudo-work.

Many years in the Army and the National Health Service has taught me that it's not what you actually do, but what you appear to be doing that counts.  So if I just squat quietly beside a large patch of weeds (farting gently to keep everything away) with a fork in hand, then all will be well.

Just time for another quick snifter before She awakes.

Have a good day.

It's going to be a struggle.


  1. I was feeling very smug with the rainbows we are getting here in Larbert (a dull place tacked onto the arse of Falkirk) until I saw your picture.
    Luckily, the post cracked me up and all is right with world again.
    *tip eating lots of fruit gives very smelly farts.

  2. It was the same on the railways. Look confident, talk the talk (especially when the boss is about) and basically you can get away with doing much less than the young keen ones.

    Funnily enough, my sister emailed today with a question: What is your favourite breakfast?" I don't know quite what her motives are because she lives 200 miles away in a benighted area of poverty, ignorance and squalor (no, not Possilpark).

    Here we go, my verbatim reply together with a link to the most magnificent of the things that my Hungarian lodger has introduced me to:

    Favourite breakfast: Grapefruit to start; then fried eggs (duck eggs of
    choice!), black pudding, tomatoes, fried bread, baked beans. Strong (real) coffee, and a generous shot of palinka.

  3. Sorry, forgot to add, in a later amendation to that message to sis - proper Cumberland sausages too.

  4. Plummy Mummy: Thanks for dropping in and leaving a note.
    Ahh, Larbert. I know it well. Actually for years and years I thought it was called Tablet (youthfull obsession with Scottish Sweets)
    To be honest, I didn't actually take that picture *squirms in embarrasment*, I swiped it off the 'net.

    looby: Yep, any large goverment-based organisation is the same, as long as you look busy, you'll be left alone.
    "she lives 200 miles away in a benighted area of poverty, ignorance and squalor (no, not Possilpark)."

    The list of possibles based on your description goes on and on.

    I'd better stop now. I don't want to give anyone the idea that Scotland is full of poor, dirty and ignorant people.

    Why on Earth did you spoil what sounds like a superb breakfast with the inclusion of fruit.

    I can accept the apricots in the palinka, 'cause of the alcohol, but fresh grapefruit?
    Have you gone dementedly health conscious?
    Recant immediately, add sausages (oops; just seen you've added them in a PS. Well Done)and butter-fried potato pancakes, or hash browns. Chips only as a last resort.

    Kidneys, where are the kidneys?

  5. Morning TSB. Back to real work today.

  6. Denistoun - do you know it? Just walk along Duke St from Queen St station and you'll get there. Actually, I was mightily suprised when I went there this summer. It's getting a bit gentrified and there was even one of those cafes with a big wooden daisy in the window.

    The grapefruit does sharpen your appetite a bit, and gets rid of Last Night's Alcohol Breath Stink Syndrome.

  7. I had a friend and former colleague who conducted an experiment one day. He made himself look busy just by walkng around the ofice all day with a blank piece of A4 paper. Worked a treat and no one challneged or question him. Interesting. Mind you this was te3h NZ Public Service in the early 1980's - real "Glide Time" days, and also very great and golden. this friend now lives in the UK and has done for a good 25 years now. Wonder why?

  8. Richard[of RBB]: Good afternoon to you too. Sorry about tomorrow.

    looby: Denistoun, know it fairly well.I went to Strathclyde Universty in 1970 (dropped out. Too much cider and snooker)and had a girlfriend who abode in Comleypark St. Actually my Dad who was a polis in Glasgow in the 50's and 60's knew the whole area like the back of his hand. The same hand he gave to all the little tourags in the area. Polismen were polismen in those days.

    VG: Yep, the oldest tricks are the best.
    There's a story of a Naval Officer who began to go a little odd. Everywhere he went he picked up bits of paper, examined them, threw it away with the comment; "No, that's not it"

    He became notorious thoughout the navy, and began to stretch the boundaries of eccentricity even by the standards of the Senior Service.

    He went on a tour of a toilet paper factory, and made quite a scene as he ripped up handfulls of paper, all the time intoning "No, that's not it" and had to be restrained by some of the matelots.

    Eventually he was judged even too wierd even for the Navy (he had been a submariner you see) and was given a full pension medical discharge.
    As the discharge papers were given to him, he looked, smiled and intoned "Yes, that's it" and left a happy man.


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