Thursday, March 31, 2005

In /Out

Q. When did we stop filling in forms, and start filling them out?

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Your Mother on an Elephant

Your Mother on an Elephant
Originally uploaded by Boggins.

Obviously not YOUR mother, unless you know different. This photo being the first fruit of my new Flickr account. Flickr is way bonzer, as Dr Johnson would have said.

Dr. Homewyze is IN

Our newly-resident home-move expert Dr. Homewyze ® is here to help you! He is the guru of all things "moving house"! Send him your questions now!

Some of our postbag so far:

Dear Dr. Homewyze,

Someone (me) has accidentally painted the word "KNOB" on the front of my house in 4ft high letters.
Is this liable to make it more or less attractive to the first-time buyer?

Concerned homeowner


Dear Dr. Homewyze,

Someone (also me) has inadvertently scratched the word "PILES" on next-door's front door with a screwdriver. Is their litigious demeanour justified, and is their purchaser likely to want to renegotiate?

Concerned homeowner


Answers next week.

The Boy

Happy 13th birthday to Ludwig, aka Algy Putto. He's survived this long through no fault of my own, and is now a teenager with all the Licence to Destroy that that status confers.
Bloody Hell.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Sunny Jim

Back to work this morning, walked past a black wheelybinthing, overflowing, rubbish on top & around, not emptied for days. Some sort of evil back-handed tribute to the late Jim Callaghan, I thought.

However, as JS says, "censure is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent". What a sad last two weeks he must have had.

Monday, March 21, 2005


I'm off to Limerick tomorrow for a brief visit - out morning, back Wednesday morning. This will double the time I have spent in the Republic, bringing it up to nearly 48 hours.
Lily is doing well ta; new bandages today, and still wearing nasty lampshade thing to stop her eating them.
House purchase/ sale progressing as well as can be expected. The chain is now complete but no-one has signed anything yet.

Oh God. I refer you to this.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Effusive birthday greetings

It's not only 'diddly diddly bejasus & begorrah mine's a pint of what he's having' day but more importantly my brother's birthday. This in lieu of a birthday card. No no, nothing to click, just this. This blog entry. You don't need a clue. This is it. Happy birthday.

Sentimental twaddle.

There will be Those Among You - pardon me once more while I populate an Imaginary Readership with readers beyond the legendary Trellis - I repeat, there will be those among you who visit us, even upon recommendation, in search of Swiftian aperçus & tales of Roadway Ironmongery, and who will RECOIL from today's actual offering, a sentimental tale of a dog, and a picturesque injury thereto.
A dog, moreover, not named, as are proper dogs, Towser, Bonzo or even Fido but LILY, forsooth, an auburn (ginger) Cocker Spaniel.
Last Sunday, this idiot dog, spurning the acres of woodland and park around her, approached and crossed at high speed a busy road. Delighted with her success, she turned around and came back.
This time she was struck by a blue People Carrier like this one.
She was lucky. Both her back legs were hurt, but neither proved to be broken, goodness knows how.
I am now some £320 out of pocket as a result, but our gratitude for her light let-off makes that seem cheap(ish).
Before and after pix here(There is no blood to be seen, ladies).

Monday, March 07, 2005

A Voyage To Blefuscu

I opened TextPad and began a piece for this journal or "heap of old rubbish" as we old hands call it, as follows:
In 1965, Diana Ross & The Supremes, while recording would-be million- seller "Lamprey Love"...

...but got no further.

I look around me and what do I see? I see people who'd much rather read about how my house is for sale, about my wife's virulent PLANS for our putative NEW HOUSE, and all the jolly mortgagey shenanigans that are about to be unleashed upon us once more. Innit?

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

The Shortest Way with Dissenters

When Daniel Defoe (1660-1731) sat down to write what we would come to know as "Pingu's Drunken Moomintroll Sledge Adventure", he can scarcely have imagined that barely 300 years later. Frankly, neither can I.

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