Tuesday, 19 January 2010

The arrival of the Daewoos


"I do not want any more animals now that the guinea pigs have gone."
I distinctly remember saying those very words.
I did not imagine them.
So, what happens last week?

The arrival of four new females in the house.

(This is something I dont object to having lived with testosterone overload for many years you understand.)
However, the aforementioned females are Degus, little creatures with squirrel faces and grey ratty bodies.
That may sound unappealing to some but they really are very sweeT.

Just, NOT MORE ANIMALS THAT WILL EVENTUALLY BECOME MY PROBLEM!!

It was the eldest, 25 years old, who came home with them.
"Its ok mum, my girlfriend and I will take care of them."
His girlfriend and he are going to Egypt, together, in a few weeks time.

"Taking them with you are you?!" I asked, in exasperation.

Monday, 18 January 2010

The Box




The pet sat in contemplation.
It had never been happy in boxes.
It liked to live and breath and eat and think outside the box always.
The way to the box had been wonderful and it had been lead there, even leading the way itself, more than willingly. It had been unaware that a box was what lay ahead of it .
The master was so kind and very interesting.The master was also a very busy person with many demands made.
The master spoke with reassuring words and soothing tones that really had fired up the creatures enthusiasm and it had gone willingly.
Willingly but with a little apprehension because it did not know the way very well.
It had been well fed on the way and understood that the master had many pets
and that it was a special pet so that was ok. It never ever wanted more than one master.
It reached the box and was not unhappy with it.It felt comfortable and it had plenty to keep itself occupied.


Soon the masters soothing words became fewer and the food supply dwindled to crumbs dropped through the airholes in the lid. The lid was on firmly and there was a keyhole but no key.
The creature was well cared for but felt it position was insecure. Should it whine and scratch the box to get attention? It had always been an impatient, overenthusiastic creature.

No, that wasnt the creatures way.It would wait and see.
One day, it was told that its box was one of many. It knew this already but it wanted to know if the other boxes were also special.

It felt something pressing against its side , under its fur.
It was a key!
Oh , yes, now it remembered.
Never leave the key to your happiness in someone elses pocket.
Keep it in your own.
The creature was glad it had done this.
It had the key.
It would still wait...but now it had found the key.

Sunday, 10 January 2010

Infinitives split with gay abandon

Apologies to those of you to whom the splitting of the aforesaid infinitives is a treasonable offence.
:))

Saturday, 2 January 2010

Laminar Air Flow cabinets and the perils of alcohol



Poor cousin W. (Another pseudonym)
He had just got to grips with having a new boss when he was asked to take a new co worker round with him and show him the ropes.
Show him the ropes.
This was not a euphemism for a strange new sexual position you understand but a genuine request that the man, who happened to be Dutch ,which may be relevant, (you will see later) could see how things were done and "network ".
Perhaps with hindsight, "show him the ropes" was a poorly chosen expression which in itself got the poor Dutchman excited.
Anyway, cousin W diligently did his best and took Dutch to a shindig , social soiree whatever , at which there were to be some very big knobs (DEFINITELY not a euphemism).
The story goes that all present were imbibing alcohol and cousin W left Dutch to his own devices (clearly a soon to be discovered dreadful error).
Cousin W returned to find Dutch hovering around a table at which sat an attractive but obviously flustered lady who was trying to attract the attention of her male escort.
It would seem that Dutch introduced himself to said lady with the opening gambit that he would like to "F**k her in a Laminar Airflow Cabinet", the convention being about such devices.
The lady , who was unused to such forwardness , was not amused.
Turns out later, she was the managing director.
Oh Joy!
Now, dear cousin W is sincerely hoping that Dutch will have tendered his resignation over Christmas as the aforementioned lady will have no contact from Dutch even to allow an apology.
I think she should have made light of it , perhaps saying" lets get the hors d'ouvres out of the way and then we'll see"
But who am I to say.
Poor poor cousin W.
But he should console himself with the fact that the Flying Dutchman has discovered an entirely new and unique use for the Cabinet .
Surely this is a good marketing point?
They are , after all, well known for their sterility.

Of Neil, Norah and frozen beasties that go bump in the night.




So it was that Neil arrived, as promised (?!) on Christmas eve.
As usual, he came at dishing up time, although there was never any doubt that he would "graze" whilst at Chez Moi. (He has been known to consume items as varied as a frozen chip and a wax ear plug.)
He came bearing gifts...two frozen rabbits and two frozen pheasants.
(Brrrrr...an involuntary shiver from me was of course suppressed, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Anyway, I think the carnivores will devour them but they will have to cook them too!)
Sitting at dinner, he explained in great detail how he had bought a new lamp so that he could assist his friend, Percy the Poacher (a pseudonym you understand) in catching the poor unfortunate animals at the dead of night.
His job , it seemed, was to shine the light into their eyes , thus transfixing them so that Percy could dispatch them.
I made the mistake of suggesting that the wee animals that were now at rest in my freezer were in fact illegally acquired at which point Neil, who never takes offence at anything, indignantly insisted that he had bought them fair and square from Sileby Market and made me study the price list he produced to verify this.
I was duly humbled.
He did provide some entertainment, telling me of his attempts at a roast dinner (pheasant of course) for Norah from the chip shop. (Neil, for readers who are unaware, is mentally challenged and has only just begun to live alone , with carers keeping an eye on him so this is a superb achievement.)
I quizzed him, asking if Norah was his girlfriend.
This he vehemently denied, saying that she was "an old lady"
Now, he is 28.
I hope to God I dont fall into that category just yet!