Month: May 2010

Summer was great! The weather forecasters were correct on this occasion – summer lasted from last Thursday until Tuesday of this week. Now, we are back to cold, windy weather with just the spot of occasional rain for variety. It was terrific while it lasted.

Fortunately, last Sunday was outstanding and I was able to get on the bike for a delightful cycle around the neighbouring countryside, as a few photos taken enroute will attest. (Click for a larger version).

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I had an intriguing conversation with a motorist who stopped beside me at the side of the road. I had stopped to take a photograph of the view from the top of a hill when this car slowed down and then stopped. I naturally assumed they were about to ask for directions but, as I leant in the passenger side window to enquire in what way I could be of assistance, the woman driving chastised me with some feeling – it seems, in her view, I had stopped in a very dangerous position on the road.

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I have to confess, I was somewhat perplexed by her comment so I slowly looked down the road in the direction from which she had come. There was a clear view up the road for something approaching 300 metres so I asked her what exactly she meant. She maintained that my stopping on the road made it difficult for motorists to overtake me safely.

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To be fair, the road in the direction we were both heading did curve around to the right after about 100 metres and it was difficult for a motorist to see whether it was safe to overtake me without slowing down. And there was the nub of her “problem.” Although she didn’t admit it, she was clearly annoyed because she had to slow down to overtake this f***ing cyclist and, as I was stopped by the side of the road, decided she would vent her frustration. Of course, she would have had to slow down to overtake me anyway and the fact that I was stopped by the side of the road was neither here nor there. Still, I smiled politely, thanked her for her concern and suggested that if she felt it was dangerous overtaking cyclists, perhaps she should slow down a bit.

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Fortunately, I was at the side of the road and did not get sprayed with stones and pebbles as she sped away.

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I was at home on Wednesday and Pen was upstairs in the SeamStress workshop labouring away, ably assisted by her mother and sister Judi who had arrived from Toronto the previous morning. At about half past one I wandered up to offer to prepare them each a simple tuna and cheese quesadilla. Penny declined existing, as she is at the moment, on fresh air and shredded cardboard. Interestingly, Beryl and Judi also declined with a somewhat quizzical look on their faces. So, off I went and prepared a very tasty snack. As I was just finishing my repast, they came into the kitchen, enquiring what I was eating. “A tuna fish, cheese and salsa quesadilla,” I replied. The disappointment which crossed their faces was palpable – it seems they had both, independently, assumed I had been offering them a “case of beer” for lunch.

Ms Playchute had a delightedly delightful birthday (I think). She certainly received an abundance of birthday cards and assorted greetings so many, many thanks to all of you who participated. Fortunately, I had remembered and had carried out my birthday shopping on Tuesday afternoon.

One of the items I wanted to purchase was a new, 26cm frying pan so off I went to Banbury’s finest kitchen shop. As I shuffled through the various frying pans on display an assistant appeared and enquired whether she could be of assistance. So, I explained that it was my wife’s birthday and I wanted to purchase a good frying pan.

A look of despair bordering on disgust crossed her face, as if she had just discovered a most unpleasant aroma under her nose. “Are you sure your wife wants a frying pan as a birthday present?” she asked patiently.

I know full well that one should never purchase kitchen utensils or appliances for one’s loved one’s birthday, anniversary or Christmas. I suppose the only thing worse would be to buy her an electric power tool or tickets to a sporting event. So, I sought to reassure the assistant that (a) we needed a frying pan, our previous small frying pan having long ago lost all its non-stickiness, and (b) now that I am somewhat less employed than previously, I am doing more cooking and therefore the frying pan would also be of use to me. Those two “excuses” did not come close to persuading her so I did have to reveal that I also had already purchased several other presents of a more personal and intimate nature and that the frying pan was merely an afterthought bordering on a necessity. Eventually, after much thoughtful consideration, she did allow me to purchase the frying pan and very nice it is too!

We’re off to Surlej in Switzerland for a week from Wednesday so you will be delighted to know that there will definitely be no Befouled Weakly News to constipate your mail boxes next Sunday. Hopefully, the volcano will stay dormant so that we can get there and back and the weather will co-operate while we are there.

Finally, I enjoyed Time’s list of the 50 worst inventions. How could spray on hair thickener not catch on and where is it now that I need it? Have a look here.

Love to you all,

Greg

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A farmer got pulled over by a state trooper for speeding, and the trooper started to lecture the farmer about his speed and, in general, began to throw his weight around to try to make the farmer uncomfortable.

Finally, the trooper got around to writing out the ticket, and as he was doing that he kept swatting at some flies that were buzzing around his head.

The farmer said, “Having some problems with circle flies there, are ya?”

The trooper stopped writing the ticket and said—”Well yeah, if that’s what they are—I never heard of circle flies.”

So the farmer says, “Well, circle flies are common on farms. See, they’re called circle flies because they’re almost always found circling around the back end of a horse.”

The trooper says, “Oh,” and goes back to writing the ticket. Then after a minute he stops and says, “Hey… wait a minute, are you trying to call me a horse’s ass?”

The farmer says, “Oh no, Officer. I have too much respect for law enforcement and police officers to even think about calling you a horse’s ass.”

The trooper says, “Well, that’s a good thing,” and goes back to writing the ticket.

After a long pause, the farmer says, “Hard to fool them flies though.”

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A little old Irishman gets pulled over by a policeman, who says,

“Sir? Do you realize your wife fell out of the car about a mile back?”

The old fella replied, “Oh, thank Christ. I thought I’d gone deaf!”

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A middle-aged guy had just been dumped by his wife. So, he decides to go out and buy a shiny, new red BMW Z-3 convertible. He’s driving along at 80 mph, when he sees a flashing light on a police car in the rear view mirror.

“What the hell, he can’t keep up with a BMW,” he thinks to himself. So he floors it.

A few minutes later, he’s overcome with guilt. “Hey! What am I doing,” he thinks? And he slows down and pulls over.

The cop asks him for his license, and walks around the car while he examines both. When the cop gets back to the driver’s door, he says, “It’s Friday the thirteenth. My shift is just about over. I’m tired and I want to go home. If you can give me a good excuse, I’ll let you go.”

The guy thinks for a split second and says…

“My wife just ran away with a policeman. I thought you were trying to give her back.”

Good morning on what looks like it could be one of the final couple of days of summer. And what a blindingly terrific couple of days it has been – sunny, warm (well, into the high 60s or low 70s at any rate) with a lovely clear and crisp bright blue sky decidedly free of volcanic ash (at least as far as we can tell). Apparently, summer is expected to last until Tuesday.

We had our first barbeque of the season on Friday evening. I won’t describe the dreadful state the barbeque was in following my obvious failure to clean it properly after its final outing last autumn – Sandy’s salmon with pesto to judge by the remnants of the fish skin. If I did describe it, Pen would be sickened and I would undoubtedly come down with food poisoning but so far, so good. Heck, I figure that the intense heat will kill off most things, won’t it? And anyway, I did scrape most of the mould and fungus off before firing up the grill.

Having thought about it, perhaps I should have taken greater care to extract the mouldy contents of the grill and submit the remains for medical examination. I might well have accidentally discovered how to create life synthetically and could have been in line for a Nobel prize.

For those interested, I made a recipe from one of the 1,260,000 pages Google returned when I asked for the “best hamburger recipes ever” (and, some of these pages had ten or twelve recipes so there has to be something in the order of about 5 million “best hamburger recipes ever.”) Since I didn’t check, I’m not sure how many might be duplicates but, if you’re looking for a tasty hamburger recipe there are certainly plenty to choose from. The one I made was for bacon double cheese stuffed burgers which were, I have to say, outstanding. A simple recipe, really – make your burgers a bit on the thin and wide size, place some chopped onions and grated cheddar cheese in the middle and place another burger on top, sealing the edges. I added a bit of Cajun spice to the mix and the finished product was rich and juicy with a bit of kick. A fine Bordeaux, a tossed green salad and a potato salad rounded it all off and we finished with a bit of coconut ice cream I’d made earlier in the day. Pretty good!

I also got out for a couple of bike rides during the fine weather and was able to shed, for the first time this season, the long sleeves and lycra leggings which are a necessity during the cooler temperatures. Rest assured, though – I still look pretty damn fine in the short sleeves and cycling shorts.

I did enjoy the following from the Time magazine web site:

On May 7, many Britons woke up to a hung Parliament for the first time ever. Not since 1974 had the U.K. faced such a scenario, which came about because no single party won 326 seats, the magic number needed to hold a majority in the House of Commons.

So, tell me – was it just “many” of us who woke up to a hung Parliament or does it apply to everyone? And, is this the first hung Parliament ever or the first one since 1974? Don’t these institutions employ proof-readers any more?

A couple of photos of some blooms in Penelope’s back garden – they staged their coming out performance on the second day of summer, i.e., yesterday.

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Looking forward to Pen’s sister Judi’s arrival on Tuesday for a few weeks. She is always a very welcome house guest. (Not what we say about some, I can assure you!)

Much love to you all,

Greg

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Lawyer jokes – don’t you love ‘em.

A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San Francisco’s Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.

“Twelve dollars for the rat, sir,” says the shop owner, “and a thousand dollars more for the story behind it.”

“You can keep the story, old man,” he replies, “but I’ll take the rat.”

The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him.

By the time he’s walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt.

No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the water’s edge a trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave it.

Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the sea, where they drown.

Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.

“Ah, so you’ve come back for the rest of the story,” says the owner.

“No, I have a much better idea,” says the tourist. “I was wondering if you have a bronze lawyer.”

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As a trucker stops for a red light, a blonde catches up. She jumps out of her car, runs up to his truck, and knocks on the door.

The trucker lowers the window, and she says, “Hi, my name is Heather and you are losing some of your load.”

The trucker ignores her and proceeds down the street. When the truck stops for another red light, the girl catches up again. She jumps out of her car, runs up and knocks on the window.

Again, the trucker lowers the window. As if they’ve never spoken, the blonde says brightly, “Hi my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!”

Shaking his head, the trucker ignores her again and continues down the street.

At the third red light, the same thing happens again. All out of breath, the blonde gets out of her car, runs up, knocks on the truck window.

The trucker lowers the window. Again she says, “Hi, my name is Heather, and you are losing some of your load!”

When the light turns green the trucker revs up and races to the next light. When he stops this time, he hurriedly gets out of the truck, and runs back to the blonde. He knocks on her window, and as she lowers it, he says…

“Hi, my name is Kevin, it’s winter in Minnesota and I’m driving the SALT TRUCK!”

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Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. Well, for example, the other day I went downtown and went into a shop. I was only in there for about five minutes and when I came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. I went up to him and said, “Come on, man, how about giving a retired person a break?”

He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. I called him a “Nazi.”

He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. So I called him a “doughnut eating Gestapo.”

He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first.

Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote.

Personally, I didn’t care. I came downtown on the bus!