Ok, it’s been a while since my last proper posting … my sincere apologies to those readers who have had the stamina and a somewhat perverse sense of loyalty to want to come back to this little corner of blogosphere, where the deliberation of nonsense and the articulation of nothingness have almost become a minimalistic art form 😉 Anyway here’s a lame attempt to set matters right with some recent news items from not-so-sunny Wiltshire …
Firstly, our house is sold … subject to contract yada yada. I can’t tell you what a relief that is – actually I can, but the full story would entail more expletives than a Tarantino movie so I’ll just restrict myself to the abridged and relatively polite version. Basically, estate agents (or Realtors for folks living on the other side of the pond) are a fucking waste of space, time and money. That said, a more introspective look into the ridiculous process of moving houses – something both J & I have lots of experience of over the years – established that part of the blame must be self-inflicted because we engaged these people fully cognisant of the stress to follow … “Who’s more foolish: the fool or the fool who follows him?”
And then we had a visit from my friend from Hong Kong, who brought along his bride-to-be to take in the sights and sounds of the West Country. They also took on some unexpected dampness in Bath as the April showers show no signs of abating, yet the hosepipe ban in several water operating authorities (including ours) remains in place. Go figure. Anyway, Waiman and Emily’s wedding plans in July are now at a stage that requires Yours Truly to get off my hind quarters and do something about arranging flights etc. Waiman has chartered an entire tram for the evening by way of a combined hen and stag party. In my mind, I’m trying to visualise the most optimal location on a tram that will deliver the greatest amount of humiliation for a public debagging – a reciprocal act of affection [Ed: are you sure you don’t mean revenge?!] for my semi-naked chaining to the railings on Stephens Green, Dublin during my stag party all those years ago. Buddy, if you are reading this, I would recommend that you go tone up those pecs and don’t forget to bikini wax beforehand … in the meantime, I welcome all ideas for restraining positions although I think the one that involves Waiman lying prostrate on the roof with his testicles in contact with the electricity supply cable would limit his chances for future procreation?! BTW, does anyone know if HK trams have a caboose???
Finally, as it’s Friday, have a look at this guy. Pretty much sums up the way I feel right now, except I suspect I would have dropped all three balls in the first three seconds …
banana blogging 