The Befouled Weakly News

12 April 2009


Greetings from The Peter Pan at beautiful Lake George.

Those of you with memories of a similar capacity to my own may well have forgotten that I was to be in the States for a week visiting Mom and Dad/Grandma and Grandpa with Susie, attending Rob’s senior recital, enjoying about twenty-four hours at Lake George before the “traditional” anniversary dinner at Hemingway’s in Killington, Vermont.

So, now that you’ve been reminded, here I am. The flight from London to Boston on Tuesday was very comfortable and very smooth. It left on time, arrived on time, I cleared customs with fifteen minutes to spare before the Dartmouth Coach departed and I arrived at Lebanon five minutes early with Dad and Mom waiting to chauffeur me to The Farmhouse at Kendal in Hanover. The only slight niggles I had – (a) having pre-booked seat 40B, I was somehow mysteriously allocated seat 41H which, while still an aisle seat, was at the very back of the plane and therefore did not recline fully which made for a somewhat less comfortable ride than a seven and a half hour flight already is and (b) the in-flight “entertainment” reached a new low – old-style monitors mounted on the ceiling and the movie (in spite of the fact that it was advertised in the flight magazine as the feature going East, i.e., to London) was Madagascar 2 – no choice, no options. After the first thirty seconds I had nearly lost the will to live. Fortunately, my iPod was well stocked with tunes and podcasts and I had a brand new Private Eye to while away the time.

The weather on my arrival provided a suitably entertaining contrast to that I had left behind; it was sunny with temperatures of about 12 degrees Celsius at departure in London (54 Fahrenheit); it was cloudy and about 4 degrees Celsius (39 F) with scattered sleet, snow and rain on arrival in Boston. Having said that, in some of the sheltered and sunny corners around Kendal the crocuses are in bloom.

Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England - now!

A few more days or weeks to wait in New England, on the whole I guess.

Mom and Dad/Grandma and Grandpa are good considering that they have both been arguing with an illness which is always a most disagreeable task. Dad had just about recovered by the time I arrived which meant it was time for Mom to begin its incubation. This unfortunately prevented their attending Rob’s recital but otherwise they have been their usual charming and gracious selves.

The first night I slept exceedingly well. Clearly, I was very, very tired by the time I accepted that it was permissible to turn in (about 9.00 pm, 2.00 am in the UK) and I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow. And, I slept right through until 6.30 am (UK time, that is) and then again to 7.45, 8.30 and so on until I finally felt compelled to drag my sorry backside out of bed at 6.30 local time (11.30 in the UK). What is about those damn body clocks – I will probably just about get it all sorted by the time I have to get on the plane and head home again.

Susie flew in from Portland on Wednesday evening just after dinner and Dad and I picked her up in front of the Hanover Inn. She and I shared a room at the farmhouse which I understand means that we are now legally husband and wife as well as brother and sister in Kentucky and/or West Virginia while at the same time having committed a felony in several other states. Thank goodness New Hampshire takes a relaxed views about issues relating to cohabitation.

When these accommodation arrangements were being discussed I did feel it was my duty to warn her that I snore and fart unsurreptitiously more or less continuously throughout the night. She assured Mom and Dad (and me) that this didn’t matter but you wouldn’t know it by the dazed and confused expression on her face the following morning.

On Friday Mom and Dad were still feeling sufficiently under the weather so they decided they would not be able to make the journey to Hartford for Rob’s concert. So, Susie and I set off just after lunch time and made our way down the freeway to rendezvous with Sandy and Pam and, eventually, Emily who had driven up from Philadelphia.

The concert, Rob’s senior recital, was a huge success. The music he chose to perform was great, foot-tapping, head-bobbin’ jazz which was exceedingly well performed. A number of his fellow students and friends provided assorted accompaniment – drums, trombone, a number of saxophones, jazz guitar and a succession of piano players – and, there was even a guest appearance by third-cousin John Michael Jelliffe in which he and Rob traded bass riffs – it was excellent.

The auditorium was packed! I easily won the prize for the individual who had come furthest to attend and, of course, Susie had come from Portland for the occasion. In addition to Emily making the trek from Philadelphia, Carol and Zach drove down from Maine, Alison and Steven White drove up from wherever they live, Alison’s brother, David Brown, and his wife came from Middleton and John and Priscilla Jelliffe came up from Stamford with the whole of their clan. There were dozens others who I didn’t know and the whole show was outstanding. I went looking for the souvenir CDs or DVDs and T-shirts after the performance but I was informed I’ll have to wait for some post-production work to be carried out before I’ll be able to acquire one. I suggest you place your orders early as it’s sure to sell out.

And so, here I am at the Lake. Sorry about the lack of photographs - I'll hope to have some from our outing to Hemingway's this evening.

Happy Easter to you all!

Love,

Greg


Speaking, as we were of celebrating Mom and Dad's 61st anniversary this evening, the following seemed somewhat appropriate:

At Saint Mary's Catholic Church they have a weekly husband's marriage seminar. At the session last week, the Priest asked  Giuseppe, who was approaching his 50th wedding anniversary, to take a few minutes and share some insight into how he had managed to stay married to the same woman all these years.

Giuseppe replied to the assembled husbands, 'Wella, I've  a-tried to treat-a her nicea, spenda da money on her, but besta of alla is, I tooka her to Italy for the 25th anniversary! '

The Priest responded, 'Giuseppe, you are an amazing inspiration to all the husbands here! Please tell us what      you are planning for your wife for your 50th anniversary?'

Giuseppe proudly replied, 'I'm agonna go get her.'


We’ve had both of the following before but the contributors submitted them with such earnest that I felt I had to include them. Especially considering that if they’ve forgotten, so must the rest of us.

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry midterm. The answer by one student was so 'profound', that the professor shared it with his colleagues via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities: 1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose. 2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.


As a bagpiper, I was asked by a funeral director to play at a  graveside service for a homeless man who had no family or friends. The  funeral was to be held at a cemetery in the remote countryside and  this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost and being  a typical man, did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour  late. I saw the backhoe and the crew who were eating lunch but the  hearse was nowhere in sight.

I apologized to the workers for my tardiness and stepped to the side  of the open grave where I saw the vault lid already in place.

I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long but this was  the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating  their lunch.. I played out my heart and soul.

As I played the workers began to weep. I played and I played like I'd  never played before, from Going Home and The Lord is My Shepherd to  Flowers of the Forest. I closed the lengthy session with Amazing Grace  and walked to my car.

As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of  the workers saying to another, "Sweet Jeezuz, Mary'n Joseph, I never  seen nothin' like that before, and I've been putting in septic tanks  for twenty years."


Back to the Befouled Weakly News