I have a friend I call the White Mekon. Apart from the colour the physical resemblance is remarkable .
He's moved to Slovenia. [Yes, I did have to look it up on a map, clever clogs.]

[For those of you NOT born in the dark ages go here to find out more]

Anyway, he's a bit younger than me and quite computer savvy but apparently doesn't get the point of blogging at all.
He talks too much, so in many ways it's a good thing that he lives miles away with his young family. He is a very talented photographer and ceramicist and has vast experience in organising art exhibitions and running various courses. I would have thought that a blog would have suited him down to the ground - to advertise his skills, his courses and to keep his friends in touch on a regular basis. We, and a lot of other people, get long emails from him and bloody loads of photos of his first child but what we don't get is a feeling of what his day to day life is like.
Here is a picture of Tugo Sam so you can see what we have to put up with.



Anyway, follow the White Mekon links and that will take you to his website; I'm going to send him an email giving him a link to this blog. (His photos and ceramics really are worth looking at, honest Guv. Lo, TG Ed.)

Come on White Mekon, pull your finger out!!!!

Post script - Don't forget to visit Penfold in the Big Blogger House - he needs all the help he can get!

Frog dog has not attempted an 'incredible journey' on his recovered legs - I live in hope that I'll see him soon.



Avid readers, I fear there is something afoot!
I noticed the terrible Goddess and the chairman of the resident's association having a conflab on the other side of the communal gardens. I hastily donned my spying contraption and heard something about 'stocks and shares'. Goody, goody thought I, some hot tips and an easy life but after some fine tuning I am now convinced that it was 'stocks and shears'. Coupled with a telephone conversation I overheard about "you're experienced in metal and woodwork?", "do we need planning permission?" and "when can you start?", I'm pretty sure now that I know what's going on.



I don't mind the restriction but NO hair as well as no teeth seems a little unfair. (With only a little patience the shears won't be needed. Lo,TG Ed.)

My plans for escaping up a rich man's back passage, which I'd put on hold, might have to be employed.

Coming soon 'Why chicken keepers are often accused of feathering their own nest'..

I could sleep for England.

Apart from a few nights that have been disturbed by ulcerated teeth, the 1987 hurricane or some really annoying, noisy friends of my dear little boys, on average I manage 10 hours a night. I sometimes even have a little nap during the day as well.

I have always done this and the terrible Goddess doesn't like it. Not in a begrudging way but because she couldn't sleep for the Isle of Wight. She has a brain that regularly springs into action at about 3 a.m. Being a Goddess is not all adoration and fairy cakes. She feels responsible for things that she isn't responsible for: apparently the world is warming up [which sounds like a good thing to me but, I'm told, isn't], politicians are running the country [of which I am largely unaware], one of her sisters has an ingrowing toenail and so on.

[Sorry Zoe]
(Now I feel responsible for Peabrain inflicting this horrible image on an unsuspecting blogworld; 'sorry' is on the feeble side. Lo, TG, Ed.)

Insomnia is suffered by a lot of people and I suspect that inhabitants of the blogosphere make up quite a large proportion of them. I know that Lizza has difficulty sleeping, partly because she's said so but also, no one could be as thorough as she is at keeping up with the blogging world, without spending more hours in the day than there are, sitting in front of her computer.
I feel very sorry for people who have trouble sleeping - it would drive me nuts. My concept of Heaven is eternal sleep - complete oblivion - lovely .

I don't suffer from nightmares either; although as I sit here in Charing Cross station, completely naked, with only MiniMac covering my modesty and my few remaining teeth crumbling in my mouth, I do have a vague memory of a childhood dream.......

We own the national collection of duvets and pillows.
Togs 1 to 20, including all the 1/2's so that all conditions can be dealt with. Some 'pop' together giving choices beyond reason. Pillows are in various softnesses and materials, non-allergenic and those that give you typhoid.



In the old house, we had a room dedicated to the storage of bedding with written plans and a map so that the correct combination could be found for a particular circumstance.
I can hear you thinking - how did that clever Daddy Papersurfer solve this problem in the new apartment at the gated community, where space is at a premium?
VACUUM BAGS; the greatest invention since sliced bread. [And what, may I ask, was the greatest invention before sliced bread? - answers on a postcard please.]
You stuff as many duvets and pillows as you can into a bag, aided by the terrible Goddess lying on top, trying to put on weight and then you apply the vacuum cleaner to the nipple [oh, do stop sniggering]. The bulk shrinks and shrinks until it is the size of an enlarged atom and Bob's your uncle [for my reader that isn't English this means 'there you are'].

(He never did explain how having a vacuum cleaner attached to my nipple helped to pack pillows; it turned out to be a rotten sense of direction. In 1991 this led to us going all round Gibraltar three times in search of a spare part for the boat. Why is it peabrains refuse to ask for directions? Lo, TG. Ed.).



Our collection now fits into a matchbox. I only hope that the seals don't break - we'll burst the apartment block asunder.

I came across this analytical diagram of an alien surfer completely by chance. Apparently, unlike Penfold, they stand up on their surfboards when going out to sea using their long arms to paddle with and on the way back to the shore they have a little lie down which is exactly what Penfold does.
They have the added ability of being able to stand on their hands and do 'V' signs with their feet.
Last time I looked, and I'm very pleased to say it was a very long time ago, the size of the genitalia appears to be similar to that of a certain ginger goateed son.
What are the chances!

IT HAS JUST COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT THERE IS AN EMERGENCY IN THE BIG BLOGGER HOUSE - YOUR HELP IS NEEDED. PLEASE CLICK ON PENFOLD AND THEN FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS. WASTE NO TIME.........GO.

Frog dog is enjoying the armchair I donated to his welfare. It'll keep him out of the draughts when winter descends.

Avid readers, I have to tell you that although the terrible Goddess forced me in to the gated community, I am beginning to enjoy it.

To have servants once again is very pleasant. (He's off with the fairies. Lo, TG. Ed.)




My letters are delivered to a lovely little box situated immediately outside the little box I live in. No more half mile walks down the drive, to collect the mail from the gatehouse at Papersurfer Towers.



Some young* men come round and clean the windows with a very clever device - a very long pole with a hose up it's length and a brush at the end and yesterday the gardeners were doing their stuff; cutting this and trimming that!

(*Huh. I am having some bookshelves put up and it's the same old doddery handyman that's been hanging around for years. Lo, TG Ed.)

The purchase of a comfortable chair [I am being forced to sit on an apple box at the moment because of an incident in the car park at the supermarket] and then my life may start to improve.

My plans to escape are on hold at the moment. (Bother, I knew I was making things too easy for him . Lo, TG. Ed.)



Read it here first - 'Tony Blur and Boredom Brown Shared More Than Ice-creams' - an exclusive