The Befouled Weakly News
28 March 2010 Good morning to you all on a somewhat dull day in beautiful, downtown Byfield although it’s difficult to judge at this early stage what sort of day it will develop into. It could be nice and sunny; it could stay grey and dreary. For all the discussion last weekend about Spring being ready to “burst” upon us like an atomic explosion, we are still waiting. While it’s not reverted to freezing temperatures, snow and gales (yet), we’re certainly not baking in delightfully warm or sunny temperatures; cool, overcast and decidedly dull. One can see that everything is aching to burst forth but so far most of nature seems to be keeping its head down waiting to see if the forecasters really have got something right this time. We’ll let you know but the outlook for the next week is not particularly promising; I was informed by Ms Playchute that the coming week is indeed going to revert to its formerly frigid status and the woolly jumpers, long underwear, overcoats and gloves will not get consigned to the winter storage facilities (i.e., the hooks underneath all the other stuff) for some time to come, it seems. How do you face life’s little dilemmas, such as the one which confronted me recently? Yesterday evening Ms Playchute produced a feast of outstanding quality (and before I get myself into trouble, her feasts are always of outstanding quality). The dilemma? Which part of the banquet to eat first and which to save and savour until the end? Naturally, the carrots were dispatched first; one clearly has to get rid of such less than delightful plate-fillers before tackling the main course. Pork, roast potatoes, spinach & parmesan cakes, sausage meat stuffing, gravy and mushrooms and crisp crackling. Now, you tell me, which would you eat first and which would you save ‘til the end? And, what would be the last mouthful? Are you like me? Once you dispatch the carrots and other less desirable root crops (apart from potatoes, of course), divide the rest up into more or less equal portions deciding, as you work your way through the masterpiece, which combination to savour for the last mouthful? Or, do you work your way through each ingredient until the only remaining mouthful is your favourite? Just for the record, my last mouthful consisted of a mixture of stuffing, potato, gravy, mushroom; the last morsel of pork had been dispatched in the previous mouthful. The great excitement this week (for me, at least; Penny would just as soon watch paint dry) was the arrival of a new desktop computer. I can certainly sympathise with Pam’s message in the week about waiting three days for the computer to get to a state where one can actually do something. The one I have been using I’ve had for about eight years, I think, and although it is still going strong (luckily) I need to be able to do the sort of work I do for schools now a days, considerably more quickly. Actually, having said that, I don’t know why. If the computer is slow I get more opportunities to lean back in my chair and spend a happy few moments in an idle day dream. What was I thinking??!! Having eight years of “stuff” on the old computer means that I’ve probably got about eight years worth of wading through everything before I determine what needs transferring to the new computer and what can happily be discarded. It’s so easy just to copy everything across but I am determined to resist that temptation and keep the new computer relatively clean. So, the old one is still chuntering away on the corner of the desk and every so often I realise that it has something I need and, at that point, we copy it across the network. This one is sweet, I have to say, and I am grateful to the boys for providing excellent technical advice in helping me to decide which one I should purchase. So far, so good and not too much wailing, tearing of hair or gnashing of teeth. The following caught my eye on the BBC web site.
Well, I certainly never received a Tiffany bracelet when I was teaching and, indeed, I am struggling to remember ever having received a gift at all. (Perhaps it’s mainly primary aged pupils who tend to give presents, he says hopefully). And finally, this was also on the BBC site sometime this week:
And, if you want to see some of these masterpieces and to know what he says to Nina Warhurst, you can find the clip here. And finally, finally, the bastards have done it again. I woke up this morning to discover that the idiots have taken another hour from me without my consent. I looked out the window at the sheep in the neighbouring field and they couldn’t care less what time the clock said; they were happily grazing. The wood pigeon on the pergola similarly didn’t give a toss for the time of day: the sun was up and so was he/she. Why do we put up with it??!! Love to you all, Greg He Said ... She Said She said: What do you mean by coming home half drunk? ... He said: I don't know why you wear a bra, you've got nothing to put in it. ... He said: Since I first laid eyes on you, I've wanted to make love to you in the worst way. ... On the wall in ladies room: "My husband follows me everywhere." ... He said: "Shall we exchange positions tonight?" ... He said: "How about a quickie?" ... Priest said: I don't think you will ever find another man like your late husband. ... He said: What have you been doing with all the grocery money I gave you? ... He said: Let's go out and have some fun tonight. ... He said: Why don't you tell me when you have an orgasm? ... Things You'll Never Hear a West Virginia Boy Say I'll taste it before I add salt. Jacob considers himself to be one of the lucky ones because he's the only one of his family to have survived two years in a concentration camp. He's now nearing 90 and his only remaining joy is the national lottery, which he's been playing for years without success. But then he wins the big one, a prize of $10 million. A journalist from the Times calls on him for a story. Jacob tells him, "As I'm the only one in my family to have survived the concentration camps, this has helped me decide how to make use of my large win. So, I've decided to donate $5 million to the Save the Children Fund, $3 million to the Simon Wiesenthal Centre, $750,000 to the Jewish Museum, $750,000 Hadassah Hospital and $500,000 to be shared amongst my friends. I'm also thinking of donating $1 to the Nazi Party from my winnings." The journalist is surprised. "But Jacob, how can you think of donating even $1 to the Nazi party after everything that's happened to you and your family?" Jacob rolls up his sleeve, points to his arm, smiles and replies, "It's only fair. They gave me the winning numbers."
|
A butter sculptor from Leicestershire is hoping his minutely detailed works of art will win the world cup at a competition in Luxembourg.