So it’s Friday. So don’t expect even a flailing stab at literary competence. A round-up of the week is what’s needed with some fun and illuminative trivia thrown in.
I am possibly the most easily distracted and idle person I know. A friend saw a cartoon yesterday and fell about laughing. “That’s you” they choked out between gales of laughter. “That’s so you.” I gave a careful and considered response of, “piss off”, and then started laughing as well.
You can’t tell but I was just distracted my Mrs S. Sadly she wasn’t offering ice-cream though.
Now my whole thread of the wretched post is gone from my head.
Check email again.
Oh yes, Idle. When I work I really work and in between I am a master time-waster. There ought to be a Guild of Master Time Wasters. I wish I knew how to make myself into a tightly focused and driven individual.
Just connected two people via LinkedIn. Think it is v. cool that technology has made so easy something that was previously nearly impossible.
Speak to one of said people. Talk for 20 minutes.
I prefer to think of it as multi-tasking with a slight random element.
My new helicopter arrives today or tomorrow. Am sure that won’t divert me from planning.
Planning – oh yeah, I am starting a business. That’ll have it’s own site and blog so ’nuff said here.
Looking forward to collecting my free Calamari from Lou’s between Christmas and New Year. Thank you Facebook.
Very modern dilemma – am speaking to my domain name provider to merge all my various domains under one roof and register a few new ones.
Dilemma – just been to Wikipedia to ascertain that I have indeed been spelling it incorrectly for many years. Two “m’s”, go figure.
Bought some bike rollers this week as I hate turbo-trainers. They turned up yesterday. Slippery buggers. Will take some mastering. In the meantime my friends have not been helpful. See Blovember 13. Bastards.
It was my dad’s birthday a few weeks ago – 75, time to get a Honda Jazz as I may have mentioned – and he is rubbish at asking for pressies. Finally we get an answer…floor mats for the Jazz please.
I feel a bit dirty writing the search term “Jazz Mats” into Google.
Everyone has a book inside them. Apparently. I am plumbing the depths of my soul and am damned if I can find mine, let alone a post for today.
No more shockers from the old man but I really ought to call and discover the colour etc and feign interest. As my first ever girlfriend pointed out; I may inherit it. No, my brother can have it. In this very very funny video you could substitute Honda Jazz for BMW GS.
While I flail about for something entertaining to write about I do recall a chat yesterday with my brother who was kind enough to give me a full description of the possible consequences of of his strong antibiotics and the fact that he has a bad back. Indeed, he painted an overly graphic picture of a big sneeze triggering uncontrollable shitting whilst howling in pain. He is a burly man as this woman describes. Howzat for something you didn’t need to know?
Possibly a bit much for a family blog I hear you cry. I am just illustrating that little of interest happens on a daily basis so a daily post will sometimes be amusing, sometimes banal and occasionally gross.
I have work to do and today the dice landed on gross. Bad luck.
Yesterday my dad hit me with some shocking news. I guess I have never really thought of my parents as old people. They are very active, don’t have plaid slippers, don’t stoop, own computers that they know how to use and to the best of my knowledge don’t buy the superb value cavalry twill trousers (Two for One whilst our child tailors can still operate machinery) advertised in Saga Magazine.
As I stood with the phone pressed to my head he just hit me with the news. No gentle pre-amble, no kind and softening preparatory words to ease me into it, just the verbal equivalent of pulling off a plaster very fast. Be a man, son.
“We take delivery of our new Honda Jazz tomorrow…” Well bugger me sideways. I wasn’t expecting that. He’s on his way to new knee number two, smoked very heavily in his 20’s and 30’s when it was manly and healthy, so osteoarthritis, cancer or even syphilis would have been less of a shock.
I howled with a dismay only to be met with a barrage of reliability, TCO and other salient stats. These that had obviously been pre-prepared and committed to a memory that is a long way from failure.
“But it’s an OAP’s car” I protested weakly, again. To which he replied, “Did you know that the average age of a Honda Jazz driver is 62?” Then the coup de grace, “I’m 75 so am just getting down with the youth.”