I was reminded of one of my favourite B.B. King tunes on Monday when we awoke and glanced out the window at the weather – "You Might Have Made Your Move Too Soon". After my rant about inaccurate weather predictions last week, I had to concede that I did, indeed, make my move too soon; the weather men and women were almost 100% accurate in their predictions of cold, arctic winds sweeping down from the north bringing snow and, even worse, sleet. Admittedly, the drifts were not of Everestonian proportions and indeed the snow, what there was of it in our neighbourhood, was of the exceedingly wet variety which gets everywhere, soaks you to the skin and then disappears in a heartbeat. Still, it has made for a very unpleasant few days.
As if the weather wasn’t enough top get worked up about, this past week my sweetheart has been very poorly. Pen has had flu for most of the last week and spent four complete days in bed. In the thirty-four years we’ve been married, I cannot remember Ms Playchute ever spending more than one day in bed feeling poorly so you can see that this bout has been significant.
During her confinement, I have been trying my best to ensure that the household continues to tick over, that the dog continues to be fed and walked and meals continue to be produced at more or less the usual times. During one night (I think it was probably Tuesday or Wednesday evening) we had a minor disturbance which became a full-fledged inconvenience.
In the early evening I had taken Molly out for her afternoon constitutional when I got back from work (Ms Playchute still abed, obviously). During the walk I couldn’t help but notice that Miss Miggins was, shall we say, somewhat loose. So, during the night at about 2.30 in the morning, Molly starts howling and squealing, clearly in need of a rapid exit to the great outdoors. Because of Pen’s confinement (and particularly her exceedingly annoying constant cough) I have been sleeping in the "spare" bedroom. Upon hearing Molly’s announcements that she really would like to go outdoors and really rather quickly if you don’t mind, I stumbled out of the somewhat unfamiliar confines of the spare bedroom and began to grope my way, in the dark and dressed in my birthday suit, you need to appreciate, toward the stairs to let her out. Unbeknownst to me, Ms Playchute had placed a (fortunately) empty glass on the top of the banister which, as I groped my way along the landing, I managed to knock off.
“F**K,” I said as the glass cascaded and spiralled toward the oak floor below. “F**K,” I said as it exploded in an eruption of glass slivers and fragments. “F**K,” I said as the glass detonated into a hundred thousand miniscule shards. “F**K,” I said as I trudged back into the bedroom to retrieve my slippers; “F**K,” I said as I plodded downstairs to inspect the damage – glass fragments, slivers and specks strewn across the floor, sparkling in the light which was far too bright to be experiencing at 2.30 in the morning.
As you might imagine, there were several more “F**Ks” as I set about collecting the larger of the fragments and then set about hoovering the entrance hall to collect, hopefully, all of the hundred thousand miniscule shards while all the time Miss Miggins, whose squittiness had caused this particular misfortune, sat waiting patiently on the front door step waiting to come in having relieved herself of her particular inconvenience. The joys of animal husbandry!
Finally, we had a very pleasant Indian takeaway and several bottles of wine yesterday evening in celebration of Pete’s impending departure on his baseball odyssey around North America. He leaves on Sunday and we had planned a rather more substantial gathering to wish him a successful adventure but, with Pen’s having been unwell for most of the previous week, for some reason she didn’t fancy preparing a dinner for twelve which I don’t quite understand. So, in the end it was just Pete, Sally, Pen and me with Anya, Pete and Sal’s elder daughter and a DVD of the film 61* to get us all in the baseball mood. You’ll be able to follow his adventures on a web site and blog which Nick is putting together for him – as soon as I get the URL I will pass it along.
The Navajo blanket finally takes pride of place |
Penelope's lounge with a cozy fire for Pete's Farewell |
Don’t know if there will be a Weakly News for the next two weeks or not – you may be lucky! We’re off to Hanover on Friday to inspect the inmates and to see how many restaurants we can visit in the ten days or so we shall be there. We’ll let you know.
Love to you all,
Greg
The following all come courtesy of Pam this week.
A married man was having an affair with his secretary.
One day they went to her place and made love all afternoon. Exhausted, they fell asleep and woke up at 8 PM.
The man hurriedly dressed and told his lover to take his shoes outside and rub them in the grass and dirt.
He put on his shoes and drove home.
"Where have you been?" his wife demanded.
"I can't lie to you," he replied, "I'm having an affair with my secretary. We had sex all afternoon."
"You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!"
A middle-aged couple had two beautiful daughters but always talked about having a son.
They decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted.
The wife got pregnant and delivered a healthy baby boy.
The joyful father rushed to the nursery to see his new son.
He was horrified at the ugliest child he had ever seen.
He told his wife, "There's no way I can be the father of this baby. Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered! Have you been fooling around behind my back?"
The wife smiled sweetly and replied, "Not this time!"
A mortician was working late one night.
He examined the body of Mr. Schwartz, about to be cremated, and made a startling discovery. Schwartz had the largest private part he had ever seen!
"I'm sorry Mr. Schwartz," the mortician commented, "I can't allow you to be cremated with such an impressive private part. It must be saved for posterity."
So, he removed it, stuffed it into his briefcase, and took it home.
"I have to show you something you won't believe," he said to his wife, opening his briefcase.
"My God!" the wife exclaimed, "Schwartz is dead?!?!"
A woman was in bed with her lover when she heard her husband opening the front door.
"Hurry," she said, "stand in the corner."
She rubbed baby oil all over him, then dusted him with talcum powder.
"Don't move until I tell you," she said. "Pretend you're a statue."
"What's this?" the husband inquired as he entered the room.
"Oh it's a statue." she replied. "The Smith's bought one and I liked it so much I got one for us, too."
No more was said, not even when they went to bed.
Around 2 AM the husband got up, went to the kitchen and returned with a sandwich and a beer.
"Here," he said to the statue, "have this. I stood like that for two days at the Smith's and nobody offered me a damned thing."
A man walked into a cafe, went to the bar and ordered a beer.
"Certainly, Sir, that'll be one cent."
"One cent?" the man thought.
He glanced at the menu and asked, "How much for a nice juicy steak and a bottle of wine?"
"A nickel," the barman replied.
"A nickel?" exclaimed the man. "Where's the guy who owns this place? He must be losing money hand over fist!"
The bartender replied, "Upstairs, with my wife."
The man asked, "What's he doing upstairs with your wife?"
The bartender replied, "The same thing I'm doing to his business down here."
Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside.
He looked up and said weakly, "I have something I must confess."
"There's no need to," his wife replied.
"No," he insisted, "I want to die in peace. I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!"
"I know, I know," she replied. "Now just rest and let the poison work."
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