Ageist?  they don't know the meaning of the word - yet. All but one can't even read.

 

But ME is a mystical, mythical, magical place so things like earth-years don't count.  There's no need to go around reminding the lady of her age.

 

Nah.  Next year we'll time our hols to coincide with the beerfest, 'cept its usually at the end of half term isn't it?

 

Who knows. Haven't been to Spain since we joined to EEC. Not true. We did a daytrip to the Donana when in Portugial a couple of years ago.

 

PS Thought so. Nuff said.  Though one does wonder about one's friends...

 

PPS How a propo - your Achilles heel when I was talking about the Iliad. The worst I've managed leg-wise was a torn patella tendon and that took weeks to heal.

 

PPS Did they win any tin though?

Being illiterate hardly narrows down their age-band. They could be getting A* A levels as we speak!

 

Mayhap but I still think there's something funny in the water there. I mean, to be thousands of years old and still enjoying good elf ....

 

Aye and if you're lucky it's a nice day weatherwise so the hoi-polloi and their sprogeny bugger off to the beach and leave us in peace.

 

Well, given your tendencies to go over to the dark side of the Channel does that make you general francophobic francophiles?

 

PS. Not if one doesn't have any, one doesn't!

 

PPS. A torn paella? Thought you just said you weren't keen on things hispanic.

 

PPPS. Still awaiting the results from the Assayers Office. I'm hoping it's mithril.

What, at 2? 

 

Just got back from Lunnun, Tate Modern, Edward Hopper expo.  That bit of it was very good but I got really tired and sore trailing around some other bits.  Too many peeps for my liking.

 

I didn't realise that you were a product of the guild schools system, moi aussi.  They obviously taught you something useful, judging from your well tailored bee-suit.  What a team!  Me providing the where-withall and you doing the stitchwork.

2? Sorry, didn't mean to insult their intelligence ...... I meant, doing their finals at the University of The Old Charity Shop On The Corner That Was Empty For Years.

 

I saw some bits about the Dennis Hopper expo in one of the weekend blurbs. How come he got into Tate Modern, he could paint and I could work out what he was on about? I have no symphony for your excessive peeps prob as you have obstinately refused to try my suggestion of culling them to keep the numbers down!

 

I hardly think I am an advert for the triumph of the system! Be funny to turn up an OB reunion as the black (and gold) sheep (bee) of the flock and embarrass all those captains of industry.

The expo has been a tad overexposed.  Saw his Hog parked round the back!  'Course he can paint... and Rodin can sculpt and and Mondriane and Monet can do their thing.. I must admit I shed not a single tear about the warehouse fire.. neither for the lost "art work" nor the people who owned them.  I was only commenting on the number of peeps as I had not expected to see so many in one place.  I couldn't manage one exhibit which was 2 circular enclosures in which the light colour changed. You were supposed to stand and face the wall and experience the light, man.  It was hot, too many peeps and claustophobic so I stood outside waiting fo BM and mused about whether I would call it Art.  Still no culling policy but we could try the South Uist idea of physically moving them elsewhere.......  

Oh, that's been done somewhere and the world frowned upon it.

 

Never been to an OG re-onion, hated skool and couldn't think of any reason to want to be reminded of it.  I do still, however, meet up with my old skool gang (thus demonstrating the crystal clear logic in my thought processes) and what a diverse lot we are. 

What? He's got a hedgehog? Not a relative of the Sonics was it?

 

I still think the video of the warehouse fire should have been entered for the Turnip Prize. Tracey Eminem, Damien Worst and the Chapstick Brothers couldn't have had any objections. In fact they were probably kicking themselves for not thinking of it themselves!

 

Never been to one either. My lot are probably all bloated plutocrats or Chief Constables, either of which would certainly be out to get me.

Well, I always think that it is better to receive than to give, as far as e-mus are concerned. Particularly when your thumbs (I haven't found out how you operate the other thingies on my hand yet) are aching after a hard day(before)'s buffet-ing for the nudely-weds. Acshually, the bunch yesterday were so slow they must have been celebrating their first antiversary by the time they put up and sat down!

 

"Not only that... it's too hot to do it outside"? You do it outside? In public? And how do you do it if Him Indoors is indoors? I've had to send the RT for a cold shower (AND I caught Shaun making notes and tucking them under his fleece, so Lucy had better look out). N E Way, you should be indoors as well. It is a special Sunday*, you know!

 

[*Sunday**: a day traditionally set aside for mowing the mother-in-law, putting up with the lawn, washing god and worshipping the car].

 

[**A special Sunday: all the above plus; getting pissed before the game against France, getting more pissed during the game against France, getting violently pissed after the match, threatening to nuke France in retribution, going home and beating up the wife in retribution for losing to France, waking up the following morning and discovering that, being a sad twat, you actually have no wife and were, in fact, beating your mother up, calling in sick to work, going to the local at lunchtime and meeting similarly afflicted persons of the same lack of mind, getting pissed, going home, swearing vengeance on that french **** who beat your mother up last night while you were having a 'few quiet beers with your mates while watching the match', early night, sober up, go back to being Lord Justice Senile-But-Harmful, QC, DSO, CQD, DVD.]

We have (well had, since I cut the Leylandi hedge down) a very secluded garden.

 

Isn't it about the time of year that the Shauns should be sheared?  I'm sure you could manage that.

 

Slow?  Slow moving (it was hot), not the sharpest knives in the drawer, lacking volition, somnolent?

 

No comprendi. He'd done the lawn, there is no M-in-L, too hot to wash the motor, what god? 

 

What's so special about a game of footie.  One team wins the other comes second.  A bunch of obscenely overpaid/rated guys running about, getting hot and sweaty, kicking an inflated pig's bladder about, and a load more blokes behaving as you (rightly) described.   I'm about as excited about the euro-cup-thingy as I get just thinking about housework - No, at least with the latter the place looks a bit better. If the team ain't good enough they ain't gonna win. Life will go on.  In 2 months time no one will even remember it took place. Besides which I'm not much into TV.  I'd really rather read, which was what I had been doing - in the garden.

Eh? Lost me there. I thought the whole point of British Leyland bushes was that they gave you (and everyone else in a five mile radius) instant seclusion. Surely cutting them down would have the opposite effect?

 

No need for shearing. They just do what everyone else does and pack their fleeces away in the coat closet until next winter.

 

No, they seemed to be holding a book-signing or some such because all the guests just stood queuing around the block for several eternities. Most peculiar.

 

'No comprendi'? You'll have to brush up on your double entendres.

 

Ah but you miss the point with your elitist skills. Football is a replacement distraction for those who are incapable of reading.

It is but the garden was beginning to be a bit like the shrinking room in AliceThrough the Looking Glass so I decided to open it up and let the sun shine in.  There are still some secluded areas.

 

Oh!

 

Sorry, should've realised having heard some of them who have a problem speaking intelligably.

So, presumably you have used the natural terrain to convert it into a bayou-themed water feature. Although I suppose, knowing your wishy-washy liberal views on humans, you have only stocked it with vegetarian alligators!

 

Hell, that's just the players and the commentators. You should try deciphering whatever gibberish (as opposed to furniture, bottles, innocent passers-by, etc.) it is they hurl at each other in big-screen pubs.

It's theme is more parched prairie than bayou - as I've told you East Angular is officially a desert region.

 

I have no idea what you mean, but then there are those who believe that all views that don't comply with those of the Telegraph reader are wishy washy. I know, my sister's married to one of them.

 

So who's rattled your cage?

Sorry, from your anecdotes of rural splendid isolation I thought you said it was a 'deserted' region. Perhaps you could instal sand alligators instead.

 

You see, there you go again. Thatcher and Blair have spent the best years of their premierships fighting a bitter, self-sacrificing war to end democracy in this country and you STILL insist on tolerating other people's views. Are you mad? Get with the [government] programme, woman, before the thought police have you deported!

 

No one. I've long since learned how unpleasant pubs usually are during big footie matches and so don't even bother darkening their doorsteps at times like these. 'Sides, it's hard enough to limp through work in one functioning piece without exhausting myself in pointless posturing, prattling and punch-ups on my time off.

What an amazing imagination!  Living on the edge of a town,next to a derelict factory might constitute splendid isolation to some people - not my idea of it.  And don't need to install sand alligators - like Kenny, we have our flock of newts.

 

You forget, my working life is governed my political initiatives, aren't I allowed to be mad in my R&R?  The 'elf service is nothing to do with curing people, it's about targets, bed-days, quantity, waiting lists -  never mind the quality.

 

Don't often go in pubs fullstop.  Except in SI.

 

Let myself off early today as I've been leading a training session and we finished sooner than I planned. Sod's law that it's cloudy. 

Kenny? Is it good newts or bad newts?

 

See, you've done it again. Not only do you admit to entertaining alternative views but you also have this ridiculous notion that your own time is somehow your own. You get your statutory 4 weeks hols and the rest of your year should be dedicated to working (unless you are an MEP, in which case the reverse applies). OK, so maybe the bean counters could run the country a tad better than they are but I'm sure it's not their fault that they can't count and they don't have any beans. If it's any consolation to you they did try running the NHS on the same basis back in the Middle Ages. It was called the Futile System!

 

Nah! Don't even bother with pubs in SI (they're pants anyway by proper pub standards). Just try to find some gullible fools who'll post you ale from the swamps (and try to arrange delivery for when the RT is out if you want to taste some of it)!

 

What? Your beer (might be wheat beer, in which case it's normal)? Your wine (definitely not good news, demand a refund)?