One good thing is emerging from Australia.

Now, before I get accused of using stereotypical national characteristics and a hoard of Aussies wearing arrow printed sacking suits come my way, corks a-bobbing, throwing boomerangs that disappear into the constant fog and rain we have here, flailing whirlygig washing lines and with lager cans welded to their fists as they try to avoid being arrested by a pair of Pommy bobbies who happen to be standing by whingeing about the weather, let me assure you that I am not going to fall into THAT trap.



No.... I want to recommend that you visit Nursemyra at the Gimcrack. [Papersurfer has sent me some stuff that looks a bit like <€∞¢#§¶•ß†STUFFª•¶∞€¢–©∆≥.> so that you could click on this text to have all revealed but I can't get my head round that, so you'll have to go to the side of this blog and click over there].

Anyway Nursemyra is prepared to delve into areas that I would be afraid to Google and she uses some terrifically long words. Of course, you never know if the persona presented is the real one, and for a while I did consider that Nursemyra might really be a forklift truck driver known as 'Bubbles' from the docks in Sydney, but she has been offering me some very useful advice about several of my medical problems and I am now convinced of her veracity.

I know there are far too many blogs out there and that you are very busy but she's well worth a visit - approach with some trepidation and enjoy.
[Hee hee......I can do clicky thing like a real grownup now -PLEASE CLICK ON PICTURE!]

(nursemyra proves there's a parallel universe that I've always suspected existed but hoped didn't. Lo, TG Ed.)

I'm with Jeremy Clarkson about the dangers of global warming and the importance of carbon footprints - a load of old rubbish! Or I was until the other morning.

The terrible Goddess went off for a hair appointment - an event that I find extremely unsettling for many reasons, all too complicated to go into now.

I had just read an extremely interesting article in the Saga magazine whilst quaffing my Earl Grey and eating a gypsy cream. It was about how people used to brick up a child's first pair of shoes, after they had grown out of them, into the backs of inglenook fireplaces [I would have considered not taking them off](What a nice DaddyP. Lo, TG Ed). A brick would be prised out and the shoes placed in the cavity. The brick was then broken in half and replaced to disguise the hiding place.

I decided to investigate our inglenook. I stood right in on the hearth and had a good look round with a torch trying to see any irregularities in the lime mortar.
There was nothing to be seen so I stepped out onto the carpet. I froze. There had been a fall of soot I hadn't noticed and one sooty foot was on the CARPET !!!!!!!!

I carefully stepped back into the fireplace and there on the brand new cream carpet, laid because the house is up for sale [some people were coming round to view that afternoon, hence the terrible Goddess having her hair done - and while she was out my job was to tidy up and make sure everything looked it's best ] was a CARBON FOOTPRINT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This was IMPORTANT and very DANGEROUS.

I took off my shoes one at a time and stepped onto a clear bit of floor. I threw the shoes out of the window and into the garden. I rushed to find the vacuum cleaner - the TG was due back any minute. The soot came up easily, thank heavens, and I only just remembered to vacuum the fireplace removing the evidence of my misdemeanor.



I might give more consideration to all this global warming stuff now, but honestly I'm hardly in control of my own life.

(Because I was out I knew nothing about any of this. Just as well really. Lo, TG Ed.)

Frog dog is particularly interested in this blog because it will help him understand his roots.

Today is the FEAST DAY OF THE TERRIBLE GODDESS - [happy birthday to you tra-la]


Avid readers, below is a photograph of Tiggz and Papersurfer taken a few years ago.



------------------Penfold-------------------------------------------------Tiggz------------------

This is the present state of affairs.

TIGGZ

PENFOLD

For you young parents out there and those contemplating having children of your own I've decided to give some pointers of how to accomplish the same - my life's work.

1. Learn their individual names as early as you can. If in difficulty develop a cross-eyed or boss-eyed look so they are not quite sure which one you are addressing.
2. Teach them to turn the other cheek lest one should get too inflamed.
3. Drop at least one, strapped in it's baby chair, from the bonnet of a car. (You left out 'run indoors in a panic to find the TG, leaving the other one to play with the traffic'. Lo, TG Ed.)
4. If they run into your bedroom really early in the morning when they have been experimenting with matches inside of a backless cupboard that's standing in front of the curtains which are now going up in flames and you haven't got any clothes on and you are tempted to run in and pull down the curtains and stamp out the flames and then notice two old ladies staring at you from the street......don't.
5. Encourage their strong belief that the terrible Goddess has got eyes in the back of her head. [Actually I'm convinced of that one myself]. ( I have - just not enough of them obviously. Lo, TG Ed.)
6. When they are at the crawling stage leave the front door open by accident so that they can explore the outside world particularly if you live on a busy street.
7. Encourage them to take off all their clothes in Safeways, but not after their eighteenth birthdays.
8. If one approaches you and says that it's just thrown a dart into the arm of the other one, set up a board, AT THE RIGHT HEIGHT, so that the aim can be improved - apparently it should have been a leg.

There are many other pointers but it's almost impossible to cover all the bases and I do hope I have been of help.

Soon - 'How to avoid having children by wearing fuschia socks' (The fuschia socks didn't come into our lives until later - of course that was a blessing. Lo, TG Ed.)

Watching television is getting too much like hard work. There are so many programmes that urge you to phone in and vote. Having a vote is a privilege that many have suffered for and many still don't have and it must be taken seriously.

At the moment my responsibilities lie with:-

1. 'Any Dream Will Do' to help the Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber choose Joseph.

2. 'Grease is the Word' to find a Sandy and a Danny.

3. 'The Underdog Show' to choose the Champion rescue dog and 'rescue my career' celebrity.

I have an exercise book for each show and make full and honest notes on singing ability, charisma, whether the Goddesses are showing enough flesh, the quality of the hair and whether noses are wet. I find these catagories work well for all shows.

So I sit there cross referencing and conferencing with the TG, dashing over to Mac to Google technical information, for the nature and temperament of the Shitzu for example, and it's getting very tiring.

It's even worse before and after Christmas with "Pop Idol", "X Factor", "Strictly Dancing", "Dancing on Ice" etc., etc., which go on for months and months.

I never actually exercise my right to vote, that would be fiscally unsound, but I do like to be prepared just in case the television did come to rule my world.

(I'm thinking of going into the Rain Forest to search for a lost tribe or something. Anyone else like to come? Lo, TG Ed)

Frog doesn’t wear socks and will have no concerns about what follows.





Avid Readers, the new rule imposed by the terrible Goddess concerning my socks [they now have to be changed every day] (!!! Lo, TG Ed.) has complicated my life no end.

I usually have difficulty remembering new rules but the TG has discovered the reminder service offered by Yahoo so that every morning when I turn on the computer up pops the message “Change your socks!”

Anyway, yesterday I was folding up the washing, complying with anti-ironing legislation, when I came across an added complication caused by the new dictat about socks.

I was faced with a huge pile, the proportions of which were truly scary. It’s never nice to be faced with piles but ones that need sorting into pairs are the worst, so
I think the time has come to learn from Tiggz and Papersurfer about pairing socks – if the colour is roughly the same, go for it.

I was discussing this with Tiggz (boy do we have deep and meaningful chats). His sock technique is to wear his socks continually, to the point of destruction, or at least until they can walk out on their own. This led to the well trodden path about the average person having at least three odd socks in their drawers, how vast numbers of people in the world own socks and the thought that somewhere there must be a gazillion socks lurking in dark and forbidden places.
What if they were all at the stage of being able to walk out on their own and they all decided to congregate at YOUR house!

The entrepreneur would pair them up and sell them, but I…….. well, I have an aversion to piles, so I would move and let someone else deal with the problem.

Sorry, got to go now – more non-ironing to do.

(So you keep socks in your drawers – and I thought you were just pleased to see me. Lo, TG Ed.)

Coming soon: ‘Atrophy wives – is a pulse necessary?’

Some idiot broke the mobile phone the other day.

In mitigation I must say it was the day Frog dog dislocated one of his legs and I had put the phone in the wrong pocket. Under normal circumstances I am aware that parts of my coat don't always get into the car at the same time as me. Many items have been crushed when I slam the car door but up to now nothing of note.

Actually it wasn't completely broken - the damage was to the screen, only half of it showed. Had I been thinking clearly I could have saved the last number I'd rung, thus maintaining contact with the terrible Goddess [I had reported in, minutes before, re:Frog]. Instead I tried rooting through the menu by memory, thinking I was dialing the vet. After I had spoken several times to the local undertakers I decided to give it up as a bad job.

When Frog had been sorted out I went home to break the news to the TG. Luckily we were due for an upgrade and she took it very well considering. I was wearing shin pads [I keep a spare pair in the shed] but they weren't needed for long.

We now have, after some of the TG's speciality - the negotiating skills of a Rottweiller- a fantastic camara with a telephone attached.

Although Papersurfer he say, very wisely, that "the joy of a new phone doesn't last very long" I am still going through the honeymoon phase and am very proud to present a picture from my new friend!



I'm hanging onto the old phone in case of a real emergency