In any relationship there is a division of responsibilities.
Lo, she is a terrible Goddess has to be adored, whether she wants to be or not, and has to receive very fine and expensive offerings.
I have to work the video recorder.
This was a collective decision - when we collected it the TG said "You're in charge".



I was so gob smacked I agreed without thinking about it clearly.
There are no technical problems - it has Video+ for setting recording times in the future and a red button for immediate use.
The problem is remembering to record.

Take last night, par example [bi-lingual? - moi?].
There was a programme that needed recording as we went to bed. I remembered earlier in the evening to make sure there was a blank tape in the recorder and that the correct channel was selected. All I had to do was press the red button when we retired au lit [Sylvie, you've got to be impressed avec that]. (I can imagine exactly how impressed she'll be, nearly as impressed as I am.... yawn. Lo,TG Ed)
I got distracted by watching a little bit of fluff (FLUFF! Have you been slacking? Lo,TG Ed) blowing across the wooden floor and then went to bed WITHOUT PRESSING THE LITTLE RED BUTTON.

This morning the TG is refusing to speak to me, which I thought might be quite pleasant but actually it's very unsettling.



I tried to point out that I've successfully recorded loads of stuff over the years and that we never watch it all anyway - there seems to be a 'thing' that after a certain amount of time has elapsed we tape over what we've recorded and haven't watched; just to have recorded it is enough. [It's a bit like left overs in the fridge. "Don't fancy that today" and when you do, it's covered in green mould and can actually walk from the fridge to the bin on it's own.]

I don't know if I can take the responsibility much longer - it's a real worry.


(It doesn't really matter whether it's been recorded or not - I work on the principle of 'Give the naughty ones a job to do.' It's ok by the way, as you know, he can't see this, it's in brackets. Lo,TG Ed)

From article on ITN


"Coffee claimed to be made from seeds found in cat droppings has become a delicacy in Indonesia.
(Advertisement)

Makers claim they gather undigested seeds from ripe coffee cherries, that have passed through the stomachs of civet cats and use them to make the drink.

It has been suggested enzymes in the animal's stomach break down the proteins in the seeds and give them a bitter taste that enhances the flavour.

The cats are not kept as domestic pets, so the makers claim they have to search for the droppings, making the resulting coffee rare and expensive.

However, the packaging and price of the product advertised online varies wildly, raising suspicions about the claims.

Some reports suggest only 500 kilograms of the coffee is produced every year and 450 grams costs up to £40."

Now I know what to do with all this, kindly provided by Gertrude - he drinks a lot of Nescafe.



I did have other plans but someone beat me to it.



I'm ordering the new yacht this afternoon.

I'll have to get a move on, Shinade has other plans.

I spotted a notice up at the Community Centre the other day that was advertising 'An Evening of Carbon Dating'. I couldn't read the details because I 'd left my glasses at home but I did manage to make out the date of the meeting. The subject was of great interest to me, as I have inherited a wooden leg that has been passed down through the family for generations. I really wanted to find out how old it was.



I turned up at the appointed time, a little early actually as I was so keen, wooden leg in a bag.
The designated room was empty, except for a middle-aged lady sitting at a table, with a few rows of chairs set out in front of her. I was way too early apparently.
She beckoned me over and sat me down at the table.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" she asked.
"Go ahead" said I, thinking she was doing a bit of market research to see what sort of person turns up for her lectures - very efficient and scientific.
"Good. Now your wife - eyes?"
"Yes, two" - mine is not to reason why.
"No no no, colour?"
"Brown"
"Height?"
"5ft 5inches"
"Skin colour?"
"Pinky brown"
"Build?"
"Slim"

What is going on? Perhaps there's a connection between very intelligent men* and beautiful goddesses.

"When did she pass?"
Now questions about the driving test???
"About 40 30 (censored Lo,TG) years ago"
"40 30 years???!?"
"Yes"
"Why have you waited so long?"
"Waited for what?"
"To find another wife"
"I'm not trying to find another wife - one's quite enough thank you"
"Why are you here then?"
"To find out about this" whipping out my wooden leg with a flourish.
"What...........?"
"I want it carbon dated"

Silence and then the dawning of comprehension and annoyance on the woman's face.

"I run 'The Carbon Dating Agency' . I set it up to try and find new partners for widows and widowers . Similar to their lost loved ones."
"Oh" said I "That's a ridiculous (and in your case impossible Lo,TG Ed) idea." and picking up my wooden leg, I made a dignified exit.


*Would that there were Peabrain, would that there were. Lo,TG Ed

.

What a week!

JohnC over at FuelMyBlog, reviewed me.
Shinade over at The Painted Veil, showered me with awards and has set up a llama dating agency.
Zubli Zainordin at the Book Project [and many others sites] has added me to more blogrolls than you can throw a book at and I had a letter from Santa!

As I may have mentioned here and there across Blogdom, there is a new addition to the family - a MacPowerBook G4.
I have named this new MacTardis, "He who has the power to cut through the interweave like a light sabre, the being that processes my thoughts before they are thunk, the facilitator that is connected yet unconnected to the Blogosphere, the communicator of lots and lots of stuff, the flat,easily portable and totally funky, fun keyed obeyer of my every whim" [actually not quite true, but that's my fault for being a peabrain in the specific sense] or Lappytop for short.
I was afraid that Mac might take exception to the new young upstart but it seems to have given him a new lease of life. He has been sharing his life experiences with Lappytop very nicely.



I got into a bit of a panic the other day. The terrible Goddess was still abed enjoying her morning sacrifice when I needed some emergency editing for a blog that had to be published to a fictitious deadline.
She graciously agreed to allow Lappytop into her boudoir. I sat with Mac, in the quiet corner, which is some way away. The TG's throat was still a little sore following the endoscopy but we were able to communicate by email.



I might create a few templates if we have to continue with this.

"Yes darling, I'm doing the washing up."
"No darling, I won't make a mess and if I did I would clear it up immediately."
"No darling, I'm not sending Uma another email"
"Yes darling, I've taken Gertrude for a walk."
"Sorry darling, Mac isn't getting emails at the moment - please try again later" (Don't try pulling this leg, let alone the other one. Lo.TG Ed).

I've been saved the trouble now - the TG is in full cry again..................oh joy.