Towels are soft and fluffy right? ………. mmmmmmmmm.



Most mornings after I’ve had my shower my towel behaves itself very well. However, there are occasions when it almost seems as though it is deliberately going out of it’s way to cause as much irritation as possible.
This morning was one of those occasions.

I started drying my bits and the towel seemed to get jammed somehow. It caused me some pain and difficulty to get it free and then it decided to fall to the floor of the shower, so becoming a tad sodden.
I picked it up and flung it deftly over my shoulder; the heavy, wet end flew out of control, caught on the TG’s bottles of ‘stuff’ on the bathroom shelf and sent them crashing to the floor where they shattered into a million pieces. In my confusion I trod on some broken glass and the towel slipped down round my ankles, tripping me up. Knocking my head on the bowl of the lavatory, I landed on my knees suffering several more cuts.

Luckily I had a towel handy so I could staunch the flow of blood.

All I’ve got to do now is bind my wounds, clear up the broken glass, sneak the bloody towel into the washing machine and sedate the TG so that she sleeps while I pop out to the chemist to replace her ‘goodies’.

Ho hum, I was going to do sooooo much today as well.

Yesterday, as a favour to the Fuelmyblog team, I agreed to test out their BlogTV site, on the condition that it would not be shown on the internet.
So confident was I that they are trustworthy people that I removed my cardboard box during the test. [I get claustrophobic – but luckily only in confined places.]

They betrayed me. I beg you not to view this video. Thank you for your support. You may borrow mine any time you want.



I am talking to my lawyer at this very minute, although he does seem a tad uncomfortable sharing the bed with me.

I’ve just come back from the supermarket and, quite frankly, there are way too many people out in the community.

There are people trying to go the wrong way round revolving doors.

There are children [yuk] who apparently are allowed to tread on my feet but when I aim a swift kick in retaliation report me to their parents.

There are elderly couples who park their shopping trolley in the middle of the aisle, stand on either side of it and spend hours shaking baked bean tins to decide which is the fullest.

There are people so wide that they carry shoehorns to ease their passage through the frozen chip aisle.

There are people with shaved heads and tattoos that can only grunt [whoops – where’s the delete button].



I’m re-thinking my whole shopping strategy.

A few vocal exercises to add points to your DP Diploma grades ……. and what do points make? ……….. hardly any difference at all.



1. Practise your ‘tsking’.
2. And now your ‘tee heeing’.
3. And, of course your ‘ho hums’.

Well done, I am impressed and depressed in equal measures.

Finally repeat this tongue twister until you can talk no more [anything for some peace and quiet].

DP blogging blogs - in Blogland bothers bloggers
But bloggers blogging blogs makes blogging blogs a really fascinating and worthwhile expression of the individual and a way to reach out to others and share experiences whether painful or pleasurable …… oh, I’m welling up – bother!

As I write this fantastic post, it's persisting down and it’s all my fault. I took the car for it’s annual drive through a car wash yesterday.



Every year, without fail, the car gets a wash at the cheapest automatic drive-through available – one that is equipped with the hammers and chisels that can make some impression on a years’ worth of accumulated detritus - dead flies, mud and indefinable sticky stuff.
If I had waited a day I could have saved the £3:20 I had to fork out and just left the car out in the rain, which is my preferred method.
Next week, the car will be due for the bi-annual removal of, and staring at, the dipstick.

I think I’m turning into a Stepford husband ……… ooo, musn’t forget to count the tyres as well.



.

The one meat that tends to bring vegans and vegetarians back into the fold is bacon.

I have a theory about this .

It is said that human flesh tastes like pork. I think we all used to be cannibals and we retain a deep instinct that finds it hard to resist a bacon sandwich.

I know, I know …. but think about it.

What is the easiest and most sensible action? Chasing after a Woolly Mammoth or a Sabre Toothed Tiger, or tucking into a neighbour who might have just fallen off a cliff or who had had a really serious argument with his axe-wielding goddess. It’s beginning to make sense isn’t it?

Personally I’m looking forward to going to an M&S food hall and buying some ‘Goddess Rump’ or some ‘Well Hung Peabrain’.



Ray Mears, the survivalist, when asked if he would eat a fellow human being to survive said, “Yes, of course I would. Always take a fat friend with you.” Looking at his photo – I think I’ll take him.