Helen Bristol

06 June 2004 19:08

Re: Grilled lamb

Hope that's leaning right on the way back.
 
Where do the weekends go? One minute I'm sitting here mardling with you on a Friday night - next minute its time to get things ready for work on Monday.  And soooo tiring!
 
See you made to the beerfest and not in disguise! That was FE holding the glass for you ?

Vile Jelly

07 June 2004 09:14

No, after a good sesh at the Tinners it was a case of just lying on my back on the return journey.
 
Not sure, although traditionally they seem to return to nest for a brief period just after Friday before flying away on Monday mornings. Off to the quack's to hopefully get the full SP (and good news) on the ankle so my Monday plight is not much better than yours.
 
That was actually a cardboard cut-out of me. I had to hide under the table because the organisers wouldn't let in anyone with offensive weapons/opinions/personalities!

Helen Bristol

07 June 2004 18:21

It looked very life-like......or as life-like as I can remember.  The words 'Bumble Bee Kelly', 'table' and 'under' conjure up a  picture of a tight squeezy situation. (I know pots, kettles and black.)
 
PS I really don't understand how/why my emu system seems to randomly decide which of my mailboxes to receive into.

Vile Jelly

08 June 2004 09:06

More 'undead'-like in my case, methinks. Anyway, I hollowed out a foxhole (the fox was most put out) under the table and the RT just passed down the occasional soggy beer met for me to suck. Apparently all the beer was gone but I couldn't see from where I was and so had to take their word for it.
 
PS. It's probably the electronic cyber-elves getting bored and pratting about again. Put LOTR on for them to watch, that should keep them quiet for a while.

Helen Bristol

08 June 2004 18:31

How unlike you to end up under the table. With only 60 pints on offer I'm not surprised it went quickly - particularly with your "family" there - that's about 2pints each, isn't it?
 
PS I would but, like my "Farmer Giles of Ham" its gone AWOL.
 
PPS  I like this weather - 30C today, just the right kinda day for a swim and again I virtually had the pool to myself.
 
PPPS  Is a beer met what peeps in Knightsbridge put their silver tankards on?

Vile Jelly

09 June 2004 14:44

No, no, no. Only 60 barrels (or multiples thereof). That's why there was only just enough for the RT. They wouldn't sully their hooves/paws/appendages to attend a beerfest with only 60 pints!
 
PS. Never read that one. The Father Christmas letters are quite good, though. Surprised Disney (or whoever) haven't raped them yet.
 
PPS. Gone cloudy and cooler here. So much for the heatwave!
 
PPPS. Accursed auto-spellchecker! Yes, and a creche is a collision between two rolls royces.

Helen Bristol

09 June 2004 18:18

I used to read Farmer Giles to the youngest sprog - probably why he grew up (?) into a Tolk enthusiast, not just LOTR but the Hobbit and Silmarillion, etc.
 
Cloudier but still in the mid 20s.  This I like, but would prefer to be able to take a 2 hour siesta a la the French.  It feels a tad thundery at the mo.
 
And I live in a hice. I get accused of talking posh but, really, one can't help one's up-bringing.

Vile Jelly

09 June 2004 21:04

Ooh, now the Silmarillion is definitely THE fantasy whitewater rafting experience. I used to snigger (politely) at people who said they'd tried LOTR but found it hard going. Four-chewing-ately, in my stint as a hysteria student I read a few (translated) classic medieval potboilers (Egil's Saga, History of the Franks, Njal's Saga [which I heartily recommend]) and so had mastered the art of gliding through all the begetting and smiting while still following the story by the time I got to the Slubberdigullion. The sprogs are probably too old and withered now but the FC Letters is a delightful book for someone who wants to entertain unspoilt children (or adults).
 
I believe you. Met a bloke (as opposed to The Bleurk) at the Beerfest and, lo and behold, as if by magic, he was from your neck of the woods. I regaled him with stories of how ghastly SI is in the summer. He regaled me with stories of how ghastly GY is in the summer! Oh, and he couldn't believe the house prices down here. N E whey, I thought the spanish took siestas, the french just take the p***.
 
So, how do you pronounce 'how now brown cow'? Apparently, that's one of the crucial tests to get you into the Carlton Club (or debagged behind the krikkit pavilion at Eton)!

Helen Bristol

10 June 2004 18:52

Read the Illyad a few years back.  Much the same thing except that there are choruses about Zeus' gold/silver edged aegis.  Good story non the less. I thought you were going to say you'd read Beowulf ect. in the original.  Now that would have filled me with undying admiration.  I've got 4 (wait for it) great-grand nephews, god it makes me feel ancient. enyway I can indoctrinate them into the joys of middle earth.
 
If we'd known he was going we'd've blagged a lift. We're all in the EU now so if I want to take a french siesta I will. 
 
Hi ni brine ki, its beginning to look like Euskara. Eton? Pah. Windsor Grammar.  I 'ail from 'arra'. 
 
PS You keep referring to the goings-on behind varicose pavillions.  Having attended a skool for young ladies I'm not familiar with krikkit/rugerby/footie pavillions.  Nothing like that (whatever "that" is) happened behind, to the side or,indeed, infront of the lacrorsse pavillion. I feel I might have missed some incedibly important part of puberty....but then there was the yoof club.
 
PPS what's the SP on the throbbing hoof?

Vile Jelly

11 June 2004 09:40

What do you mean 'read' Beowulf? I had a starring role in it (until Mr B nobbled me)! 4 great grand nephews, eh? What are they called; Huey, Dewey, Louie and Hong Kong Phooey? Don't let them get ageist on you. Remember in ME everyone is dead old and it doesn't bother them. Off the top of my head Galadriel was several thousand years old and she still looked like Kate Blanket!
 
Maybe you should put an add in the local poopers a few weeks before next year's bash and organise an outing. The french were too late, the Czechopololatvians have already taken up the full EU siesta quota.
 
But does the aqueous solution in the Spanish holiday resort have the flavour that you expected?
 
PS. Boys-only skool. The 'behind the pavilion' is a metaphor for skulduggery, thuggery and, possibly, other activities ending in 'uggery'!
 
PPS. Achilles is still a tad tender but the anti-defamatories worked a treat on the swelling (and swearing!). Got a straight 8 hour shift tomorrow as a dry run to see if there is any reaction when I start blue-arsed-flying again. Had a blood test yesterday. They couldn't find any! Now got three holes in my arms as a result of the extensive drilling operations.

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