Good morning to you all and here’s hoping it’s a fine day wherever you currently find yourself. This week’s weather report? Mixed. Good sunshine at times although accompanied by a stiff breeze which has had an impact on the temperatures; scattered showers at various times during the week also contributed to the lack of opportunity to recline in the chaise lounge in the garden. Still, what do we expect in England in late May?

We continue to make good progress on the whole, apart from when I engage in some stupid activity. To make matters worse, my resident care assistant distinctly tells me not to do such things and I ignore her advice. Hey, ho! So, what else is new?

The activity I should not have engaged in this week involved the downstairs toilet and its development of a somewhat annoying habit – it stopped shutting off properly so that it would run continuously and overflow through the outlet pipe into the garage. Naturally, this required some attention and, on closer examination, it seems that the inlet pipe (inside the cistern) had developed a crack which was allowing the water to run continuously even though the ball valve had succeeded in doing its job of shutting the water off; water kept spewing through the crack in the inlet pipe and thus overflowing.

Now tell me – how does something like that happen after ten or more years of perfectly acceptable and satisfactory service? It’s not as if anything changed or anyone exerted pressure of any description on the inlet pipe. It’s a mystery to me. In any event, a trip to the local hardware emporium resulted in the purchase of a new inlet system and I was able to begin the repairs necessary.

For those of you who remember, the downstairs loo is/was very expertly boarded with tongue and groove boards which very neatly and completely hid all the pipework and fittings. Of course, the idiot who installed all this (i.e. me) failed to imagine that the pipework would ever need to be made accessible. So, in order to replace the inlet pipe one had to remove a significant portion of the panelling and, since it had been done in such an expert fashion with no suggestion that it would ever need to be removed, it caused somewhat of a mess, shall we say. Still, it had to be done to effect the repair so off it came.

Extracting the old inlet pipe was achieved very easily and the replacement slotted straight into place. Tighten up the connections, turn the water back on and… you guessed it – floods of water everywhere! It seems I had made two mistakes; firstly I had not replaced the fibre washer which had become considerably corrupt and useless and secondly, and more importantly, I had managed to strip the threads on the inlet pipe beyond redemption. So, back to the hardware emporium to purchase another inlet pipe and new washer along with the conviction that this time I would take a bit more care and wouldn’t end up stripping the threads.

Of course, I put all this down to not being able to flex my neck sufficiently whilst lying wedged between the toilet and the wall trying to see what I was doing. Naturally, that evening and the next day my neck gave me plenty of evidence that I had been over-doing it and that gave Ms Playchute more than sufficient opportunity to chastise me mercilessly and continuously about not doing more than I should and listening to her advice when she says, “No!”

I guess I’m just a slow learner.

As for Ms Playchute, she has been very busy this week (so what else is new?). On the one hand, she has had to look after me, on the other hand she has been busy with the business all week (Sally, her business partner, has been on holiday in Cornwall), and, on the third hand, she has been trying to assist in the restoration of her parent’s cottage at the other end of the village.

You will remember that their cottage was flooded last July and that Pen’s brother Jeremy has been working to effect all the necessary repairs for the past several months. Jeremy has always been convinced that everything would be ready for their parents return on 1 May; even as recently as eight days before their arrival he was telling everyone that all the work would be finished. Pen and I (and everyone else) could see that there was no way the work was going to be done so Pen arranged for her mother to move on more or less straight away to Toronto to visit with J for a time to give Jeremy an additional month to finish the work. Unfortunately, Beryl is due back at the end of the coming week and Jeremy still has, at his pace, about four to six weeks of work left.

Frustratingly for Pen, Jeremy is a meticulous but painfully slow builder who hasn’t thought about the necessity of having a work schedule outlining all the jobs which need doing and the order in which they should be done. As a result, he has about three or four jobs on the go, all of which are partly finished but none of which are at a point where Pen can easily get in and start decorating.

Very frustrating for all concerned but I suspect that’s true of most building projects.

Love to you all,

Greg

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A small West Virginia Wild Animal Park had acquired a very rare species of gorilla. Within a few weeks, the female gorilla became very horny, and difficult to handle. Upon examination, the park veterinarian determined the problem: The gorilla was in heat.  To make matters worse, there were no male gorillas of her species available.

While reflecting on their problem, the park administrators noticed Ed, a part-time redneck intern, responsible for cleaning the animals' cages. Ed, like most rednecks, had little sense, but possessed ample ability to satisfy a female of ANY species.

So, the park administrators thought they might have a solution. Ed was approached with a proposition. Would he be willing to have sex with the gorilla for $100?

Ed showed some interest, but said he would have to think the matter over carefully. The following day, Ed announced that he would accept their offer, but only under three conditions.

"First," he said, "I don't want to have to kiss the gorilla."

"Second, you must never tell anyone about this."

The park administration quickly agreed to these conditions, so they asked what was his third condition.

Ed stated, "You gotta give me another week to come up with the hundred bucks."

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A flat-chested young lady went to a popular surgeon known for "no scars" about enlarging her breasts.

To her shock, Dr. Bosley advised her, "Every day after your shower, rub your chest and say, "Scooby doobie doobies, I want bigger boobies!" He guaranteed success and, figuring she had nothing to lose, she did what he told her to do faithfully for several months.

To her utter amazement she grew terrific D-cup boobs! One morning she was running late, got on the bus, and in a panic realized she had forgotten her morning ritual.

Frightened she might lose her lovely boobs if she didn't recite the little rhyme, she stood right there in the middle aisle of the bus, closed her eyes and said quietly, "Scooby doobie doobies, I want bigger boobies."

She apparently didn't say it quietly enough, though, since a guy sitting nearby looked at her and asked "Oh! Are you a patient of Dr. Bosley?'

"Yes I am," she said, a bit embarrassed. "How did you know?"

He winked and whispered, "Hickory dickory dock...."

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Jake is five years old and learning to read. He points to a picture in a zoo book and says, "Look, Mama! It's a frickin' elephant!"

Deep breath... "What did you call it?"

"It's a frickin' elephant, Mama!  It says so on the picture!"

and so it does... "A f r i c a n Elephant."

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Three guys are golfing with the club pro. First guy tees off and hits a dribbler about 60 yards. He turns to the pro and says, "What did I do wrong?"

The pro says, "Loft."

The next guy tees off and hits a duck hook into the woods. He asks the pro, "What did I do wrong?"

The pro says, "Loft."

The third guy tees off and hits a slice into a pond. He asks the pro, "What did I do wrong?"

The pro says, "Loft."

As they're walking to their balls, the first guy finally speaks up. He says to the pro, "The three of us hit completely different tee shots, and when we asked you what we did wrong you gave the same exact answer each time. What is 'loft?'"

The pro says, "L-O-F-T: Lack Of Fucking Talent."