Spreading

There are many divisive topics of discussion. Politics is obviously the major area of activity, especially when you realise that 'politics' is not just anything to do with your government, but anything in life that has a meaningful impact on your your own life and those of the people you love (and, in the case of the abortion/sexual health situations, those of people who don't even exist yet. And may not).

Increasingly, people are becoming more and more overly opinionated about things that don't really matter, notably in the area of entertainment. And, for the record, I include all sport in that broadly-sweeping category. Why? Because when you get down to the basics, football (for example, he said, writing this on the day of the World Cup final 2014...) is not a job for most of the millions involved. And for those that are, so what? You are still only creating something to entertain the great unwashed masses (another quote mangled there*).

"I beg your pardon?"

Moving to the world of food (and I realise that some of you will now realise where this is going), it is oddly more cloudy. When you think about it, food is an essential part of life, so having an (informed) opinion about it can have a direct impact on the health of people that consume it. Eating something slightly out of date. Chili-eating contests. Fast food. Aspartame in diet drinks. Corn syrup in diet drinks. Marmite.

the offending article

Wait, what?

Some years ago, that reactionary and inflammatory rag of a newspaper known as The Daily Mail reported on a set of food products that were deemed in their pet scientists' (paid) opinions. Most of these foods were obvious, some of which I have listed above. However, tucked away in there was Marmite.

Horror of horrors, it seems Marmite is 11% salt! (full nutritional info here) That means that if you slather 100g on your toast you... wait, what? It seems someone has never eaten Marmite or has tasted it briefly and taken against it. In case you don't know, the black stuff is not for piling on like jam, Nutella, or peanut butter (blech). Seriously. If you tried eating 100g of Marmite in one go, you may as well call a priest for the lining of your mouth, as it would be stripped away like butter under a blowtorch.

This is where people get it wrong. Unlike the other spreads, Marmite is savoury, not sweet, and savoury generally means that it has more salt. Besides - have you seen how much salt is in bread? I bet you eat far more salt in that than you would in a single serving of Marmite.

Oh, and just for giggles, here is a link to a Daily Telegraph article commenting on how healthy Marmite can be.

As a company, Marmite are fully aware of how divisive their product can be. In fact, in Britain, a totally divisive subject is often known as a 'Marmite topic', and reactions to it range from this:

To this:

As I say, the company knows of this, and uses it extensively. In the past, they have gone for a 'political campaign' on behalf of the 'Love' and 'Hate' parties, but my favourite ads were drawings made of Marmite with the tagline 'you either Love it or hate it' (sic) scrawled on one side.

For the record, I hate Mr Bean.

In our house, the human population is split down the middle. I love it, Julie hates it, and we aren't going to let Roxy near it. Not if she wants to sleep in the same room as us.

It's fairly entertaining for me, as whenever Marmite is mentioned, Julie goes into a paroxysm of disgust. Some of this is a physical shudder, but much of it is a loss of sentence structure as she goes into a stuttering ramble mode.

Logic has been diminished

When I started writing these Gems down, I never gave a thought to context. All I committed to paper were the exchanges, divorced from the events that led to and followed them. This wasn't much of a problem to begin with, but now I have a small box full of scraps of paper and filled notebooks, I find myself looking at a set of almost unintelligible scrawls, with no idea of what prompted them.

All this means that I am now faced with two options. I can either fake a backstory, and hope I can get it as true to life as possible, or I waffle on, filling the post with a series of side-stories and unrelated topics.

No idea who did this, but it belongs to the surrealism art school.

...er ...perhaps not that unrelated...

Forcibly dragging the post to something resembling order, the only background I can provide to today's Gem is that me and Julie were discussing her ability to entertain with verbal slips (and spot-on bon mots). Very often, Julie will do herself down, claiming she is thick, slow, and dull.

That's one thing that is pretty much guaranteed to anger me and anyone else who knows Julie. Just because I remember lots of useless titbits of information, that does not mean I am more clever than the next person. When Julie talks about her work, I generally sit there while my eyes glaze over and the conversation flies so far over my head that it attains near-earth orbit. The reverse is true wen I begin discussing the intricacies of playing Magic: the Gathering.

However, there is one aspect of my psyche that would enforce such a self image. I can be very picky about some things. I like things to be correct and will attempt to correct people - including myself - when I believe them to be wrong. Since I spend a lot of time with Julie, this means that I do nit-pick at things she says. And trust me when I say I have got into trouble about doing this. Right, sis?

That said, may I present this legally-themed Gem.

Yes, I am fully aware that 'grounds of diminished responsibility' is a defence tactic, not an accusatory one. But - it was fun to roll with it, right up to the final brain crash.

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The two cartoon images come courtesy of an anime game series known as 'Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney', although some people, mostly in the West, will know them from the series of parody videos, Phoenix Wrong. These videos cut together parts from the games and then overdub music, quotes from movies, and classic comedy sketches, all punctuated by a banged gavel and a cry of "Objection!" Take a peek at this example.

Top of the plops

My mother was the first to note a certain family trait; no matter the topic at hand, any conversation involving one or more of us will turn to shit. Or piss. Anything lavatorial, really.

Julie isn't a family member in the genetic sense, but when it came to integrating with my family, she hit the ground running, and has barely slowed down since. Certainly, when it came to my father, she could do no wrong. Anything she said, no matter how ribald or piss-taking it was, was greeted by a full-on snigger from Dad. Seriously, she got away with stuff we would never have even dared contemplate broaching with my father. The bald patch received special treatment, as I recall...

And yes, this does mean that Julie often joins in with phrases for flushing.

Today, for example, Julie decided to call it a night. Wearily dragging herself up the stairs, she decided to parody a certain little ditty made famous by the nephew of Kermit the Frog.

Yes, I know the word is 'down', but that doesn't really matter, does it?

"Uncle Kermit? That's not right, is it?"

He's right. It's not. Here's the original.

The gag reflex

Say hello to Bongo

Bongo is a staffie/labrador crossbreed, and a rather handsome chap. One of many dogs at the Last Chance Animal Rescue centre, he is also a long-term resident (just as Roxy was). Indeed, every time that we visited the centre, we would make a point of dropping by Bongo's pen. A lively, happy chap, he always had two tennis balls in his mouth. If he happened to drop one, he would then chase after it, retrieve it, and get it back to its rightful place.

In fact, we would like to have taken Bongo on, but he's just too big and boisterous. I hope somebody does take pity on him.

I only mention Bongo because every time Roxy feels like playing with one of her tennis balls, both Julie and myself are immediately reminded of Bongo and the two-ball grin.

As my mother will know, normal tennis balls never last too long with a dog - they are chew toys when fetch time is over, after all. However, most pet shops stock a hardier breed of ball - just don't use them to play tennis, because they will hurt like hell if they hit you.

Mind you, even those balls will not last too long with a determined doggie. Roxy's current ball has developed a weakness, one which means that it sort of folds in on itself to a degree. Unfortunately, this means that a tennis ball which is only just on the right side of 'large enough' is now in danger of being a little too small for safety. Naturally, we are always aware of safety, and Julie happened to notice that Roxy was chomping on the ball a little too much.

That last bit was directed at a husband, whose mind was dallying in the gutter once more...

That said, I went looking for link or images of these tougher tennis balls. It looks like I'm not the only puerile person around...

Verbal and Legal

It appears I missed Wednesday. Shame on me - especially as I had a Gem ready and waiting to go.

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Last week, we went to a live show (as opposed to a dead one. That would have been boring). The band in question go by the name of The Illegal Eagles, so named because they are a tribute band to - well, it's obvious, really, isn't it? The show was excellent; all the musicians really know their stuff.

The band began eighteen years ago, started by the second and fourth gents in the picture. Over the years, there have been a lot of members, although some more permanent than others. The bass player on the right has been with them almost since the start. The newest - and youngest - member of the group is on the left. No, it's not Smallville's Lex Luthor, unless he has had a personality implant. He's a good addition to the band, contributing, as almost all of them do, to every section of the stage. Mind you, the real Mr. Diversity is chap #4, playing a variety of guitars, drums, vocals (including lead), and even saxophone for 'The Heat is on', played in the set's solo hits section. One each from Glenn Frey, Don Henley ('Boys of Summer'), and Joe Walsh ('Rocky Mountain Way'*).

You may have noticed that I haven't, until now, mention the third gent in the lineup. That's because he is the only one whose name I know off the top of my head; Keith Atack. Keith is the only reason that we were there. You see, Julie was massively into a band called Child when she was younger, and Child featured a couple of twins by the name of Tim and, yes, Keith Atack. Here's a picture of Keith (or is it Tim? Heck - they're twins...) to show why Julie was such an ardent fan.

Handsome, no? By the way, I had a little trouble searching for images, and I really hope Big Brother understands that my search term 'child singles' - in Images, no less - was innocent. After all, I really wasn't wanting results of Destiny's Child.

Back on track.

Some days later, we were out, taking Roxy for a walk and discussing the concert. I raised the point that TIE have been sanctioned by members of the original Eagles, in much the same way as Pink Floyd have approved The Australian Pink Floyd Show. It's something that has always made me smile to myself; I mean, 'The Illegal Eagles' can be a bit of a tongue twister on its own, without throwing anything else into the mix.

I have no idea if I did get it right, but it's as close as anyone would get. Julie herself admits there would be no way of repeating it.

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* 'Rocky Mountain Way is good, but I prefer 'Life's Been Good'.

Surprise mutt-sex

Hmm. Out of all the trends we have seen on Julie's Gems, the one that appears to be forming at the moment is the most worrying. Not even the Platyposts concern me as much.

There is a meme going by the tagline of 'surprise buttsex'. It takes advantage (ahem) of previously innocuous photographs and then adds the caption of 'Surprise Buttsex'. Google it if you want, but be prepared for what you see. In the meantime, here's a prime example.

And now for the most awkward segue ever; let's talk about Roxy...

Being part Staffie, Roxy isn't the slightest of creatures, gorgeous as she is. She also fits in with the family very well, in that she has a stubborn streak wider than the mouth of the Amazon river. Combine that with your average doorway, and simple access to a room is suddenly a lot more difficult. Especially since neither me nor Julie are even remotely slim.

If I am cooking, Roxy likes to 'supervise' from the comfort of the kitchen doorway. Having spent so long in a rescue centre pen, she isn't too fond of uncarpeted surfaces. I can understand that. Unfortunately, she refuses to move from there until the last tiny chance of a dropped morsel has gone. Which tends to make it a problem for Julie when she decides to come and make herself a drink.

There are so many things wrong with that I have no idea where to begin... so I'll leave you with a final meme...

Fingers of a troll

The last time the two of us went to visit my family in Birmingham, it was for the Christmas break. Since then, I have been up there a few times, but Julie has had to stay behind. Partly due to work constraints, and partly because we couldn't take Roxy with us.

It's a long-standing joke, both between me and Julie and for my family as a whole, that no matter what pains any of us may take to remember everything we want to take on a journey, there will always be something forgotten. Normally, it's a minor thing, but I have been known to turn around to get my wallet...

On our Christmas visit, it was a decent enough journey. Even the infamous M25 was behaving itself.
The only problem with that, though, is that there is no traffic to moan about, and I have to concentrate that bit more.

I am very much a defensive driver; I assume that every other driver on the road is a idiot or a complete arsehole. After a fair amount of time driving since passing my own test, it seems to me that I have a pretty strong theory going, and as a result, I am forever looking around me and trying to second-guess cars that are two lanes away from me.

During these times of concentration, Julie's normal habit is to drift off to sleep. This time, however, was different.

It took a while, but I gradually became aware that Julie seemed to be repeatedly counting something off on both hands...

For miles afterwards, all I could think of was this scene from Bruce Almighty:

Pay (lots) to play

Anyone who knows me knows that I have an inordinate fondness for facts. Whether they be relevant to something in my life, or just useless trivia, I will usually read about it and think, "well I never." Among the Giles annuals and Pratchett books in my own personal library, there are a number of non-fiction books. Many are to do with natural history, but others will stray out into other sciences, language, history and even mathematics.

Yes, I am a word nerd.

For our wedding, we bucked a few trends; we made our own table centrepieces (with hedgehogs, of course), we insulted the registrar (link), and we made our own wedding favours, to be opened as the meal began. Intended to be something to help relative strangers strike up conversation with each other, we included, along with the ubiquitous sugared almonds, a few chocolate coins, a cheap toy such as you may find inside a Christmas cracker - and a folded piece of paper, upon which was written the following; a joke ("Two fish were in a tank. one said to the other, 'how do you drive this bloody thing?'") and a factoid, a little snippet to make people wonder.

To that end, books like this were invaluable.

Crammed with all sort of useless cra.. uh, information, this and others like it are fun reading. Especially when you are stuck in the smallest room in the house for a while...

I don't know which book it was, but one of my trivia books had a section on words that have been adopted into English from various other languages. And then proceeded to give us a literal translation of said word. For example...

Ba-dum TISH!

I'd rather crawl inside a tauntaun.

In line with British law (as seen in this Gem), we are good dog owners and don't leave dog poo for people to step in etc.

However, with the weather of late, it's a tad difficult to pick up dog poo with a flimsy little bag when the wind is doing its level best to rip said bag out of your hands and send it to the next county. Or country. We are lucky in that Roxy doesn't generally pull and is happy to stay where she is while we deal with the nasty stuff.

Another thing is that it's a bit nippy when you have wind, rain, and low temperatures combined. Especially when you had been wearing gloves up to that particular moment and now have to remove at least one to get the finger mobility needed.

Julie has managed to find a bright side to this, though.

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*Just in case you don't get the relevance of the title....  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXmp1hLK0tY

Long and wrong

The weather in the southern parts of Britain have not been what you could call clement lately. In fact, to paraphrase Robin Williams' character in Good Morning Vietnam, it has been (and apparently will be for at least a couple of weeks more) "wet and pissy with outbreaks of increasingly windy, wet and pissy."

(Real quote:
[imitating Walter Cronkite]
Adrian Cronauer: I just want to begin by saying to Roosevelt E. Roosevelt, what it is, what it shall be, what it was. The weather out there today is hot and shitty with continued hot and shitty in the afternoon. Tomorrow a chance of continued crappy with a pissy weather front coming down from the north. Basically, it's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut.)

If you haven't seen that film, do so.

Back in Eastbourne, the weather continues to be windy enough to go straight through you, rather than bothering to go around. And, because it's that time of year in the northern hemisphere,* it's a tad on the chilly side. That means that driving is a little cool on the hands - until the heating warms up enough that the steering wheel doesn't try and give you frostbite.

Yes, I have gloves. Yes, I have been wearing them. After a while, when things are a bit warmer, I take the gloves off and, if Julie is with me, pass them to her to look after while I do the driving.

Last night, we realised shopping was necessary - never mind us, the dog food was running low. Since Roxy enjoys going for a ride in the car, we took her with us and took the long way to Tesco. Eventually, the inside of the car reached a temperature that my fingers considered to be comfortable, so I doffed the gloves and gave them to Julie.

I may have been concentrating on driving, but I was vaguely aware that Julie was fiddling with my gloves; I never gave it much thought, to be honest.

After a moment of silence, just as I was about to drive us onto a junction, Julie announced this...

NOT what you want to hear as you attempt to negotiate a busy junction. I do have to admit, though, that I was most impressed with the way Julie managed to begin with a basic malapropism and then stutter her way into a snippet from Gilbert and Sullivan...

Again, many thanks to the internet, where almost any image you search for is but a few clicks away. Googling 'tentacles and testicles' yielded this beauty.

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* by the way, please spare a thought for people in the southern hemisphere. While Britain is being blown about and drowned, and the US and Canada are having ridiculously low temperatures, places like Australia are suffering with forest fires and the like. And when they have fires, they don't muck about. Be safe, my antipodean friends.

Half dog, half monotreme.

You may have noticed that Julie is somewhat of a whimsical frame of mind. You will be very pleased to know that this has not changed a jot since Roxy entered our lives.

A crossbreed of Staffie and bulldog makes for a very solid dog, and there is no denying that when Roxy opens a door, it tends to stay open. Similarly, when she decides to cuddle up to you, you will definitely know about it - and hopefully be very glad you were already sitting down.

However, Julie is one for pet names, and when combined with her leftfield sense of humour, it can prove to be a tad confusing. For me, if not the dog - especially when Julie appears to be rummaging around in the back pocket of Roxy's genes...

Three things: No, of course Roxy didn't answer to it. And you know what, the first thing that came to mind was a paraphrasing of Monty Python's classic 'Brian' scene, "She has a fwiend, you know... Incontintentia Buttox."*

The third thing was a corker. I always try and illustrate a Gem if I can, but when I typed in 'dog platypus hybrid', I have to admit I wasn't expecting anything.
Silly me.
First bloody result from Google image search was this beauty.

Image is the sole copyright of Evelar.

Evelar is a digital artist on deviantArt. If you click on THIS LINK, you can see the picture in all its glory. Please do visit the page, and browse the amazing art therein.

Of course, there was no way I was going to miss a chance to share a classic bit of comedy with you...

*In true Monty Python fashion, there were four things that occurred to me - the other one, of course, being that this was going to be yet another platypost...

Time to sleep

As I type this, it's 1am. Yesterday saw some abysmal weather of the rain variety. Or, to put it another way, it was pissing down for most of the day, and just when some idiot commented that "it couldn't rain much harder", someone Up There replied with, "challenge accepted." Yeah. Thanks for that.

I have a weight problem, and as part of an agreement with a dietician, I'm trying to walk at least five thousand steps a day. Some days are good, others not so. Part of the problem is down to the headaches I get, partly the fact my main hobbies involve sitting down (reading, internet, Magic gaming) and, of course, the weather.

Not me, but the pose is.
Especially the mug of tea.

Yesterday involved a case of  'all of the above'.

Because of the weather, me and Julie decided to drive to a garden centre that we knew was under cover, but was still quite large - in other words, we got to have a bit of a walk. Unfortunately, I started feeling a bit woozy, and we had yet to do the food shopping.

On our way home, we called in at Morrisons, mainly because they have a fantastic salad bar, and their cous-cous is amazing. I was very glad to get home, though, because by that stage I was definitely feeling under the weather (no pun intended).

After a brief time surfing the web while having salad and a cup of tea, I gave in to the inevitable and decamped to the front room, took painkillers and gingerly placed a cold wheatbag across my eyes and forehead. And slept.

All too soon, I woke up. Grumbling, I made a cup of tea, tried some other painkillers and settled down again.

The face ain't mine, but the expression is.

10:45 pm - awake once more. Bloody hell. At least the headache had subsided somewhat. And - surprise, surprise - so had the rain. It might have been late, but I was definitely in the mood for a spot of fresh air.

And here I am. Still tender in the temple, but getting there.

Here's Julie on the subject of taking a nap:

Cartoon cats ahoy!

These guys are the brainchild of one of my friends. I call him Mikey, but he's also known as The Arty One. He's just started off a cartoon blog featuring these cats, based on a lifetime of observing their real-life counterparts. Only the introduction is up at the moment, but why not drop along all the same?

Stan and Tim's Imaginative Adventures

The great Greek flip-flop flop

Heh - say that fast three times in a row...

Anyway - as I mentioned in Monday's post, We have a friend from Greece visiting for a few days. Since she and Julie are familiar with each other, it was no effort to either of them to fall into an easy banter - especially when it came to taking digs at me. Julie may come out with some odd things now and then (yes, really!!), but she is very quick-witted, and usually manages to put me in my place with no problem.

However, the Sunday was the first day after our friend arrived and she was still somewhat jetlagged. Since I am really not at all good in the morning, Julie was pretty much the only bright spark in a sea of bleary dullness. It didn't help that I had the grand idea of taking our friend to her first car boot fair, an event which can be best described as a yard sale held in a field, where everyone turns up to sell their crap - I mean surplus goods.

As you can tell, you do get some turn up in vans; traders of one sort or another - but they have to pay a larger pitch fee as they will take up more space. Fair play. It is truly astonishing, though, just what people try to sell. Mind you, it's not nearly as astonishing as the fact that people will actually buy it. From rusty car parts, old Paul Young records (usually No Parlez) to a truly staggering amount of baby clothes and dog-eared paperback books, you will find pretty much everything.

On the other hand, you will also find the odd hidden gem, something that is just what you need. That rusty car part might be from an Aston Martin, a part that was last in production fifty years ago. If you are living on the breadline and are expecting a baby, this will be an ideal way to clothe your newborn tot. And yes, there are still some Paul Young fans out there.

As for me and Julie, we view these events as a good opportunity to add to our already substantial collection of hedgehog ornaments, toys and nick-nacks. It may have been at a car boot fair or in a charity shop that we managed to snag a lovely hedgehog doorstop.

Handsome chappie, no? Oddly enough, we haven't named this one, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

But I digress. This hedgehog is not simply for looks, we do utilise it as a doorstop. In fact, the door it is responsible for is that which belongs to the guest room, the room in which our friend is currently sleeping as I type this.

Back to the car boot fair. It had been a hot day and we had just dragged our still-weary friend around a dusty field. Having said that, we did treat her to her very first cream tea - with clotted cream, naturally. Unfortunately, despite the delicious refreshments and the elation of having bought her very first item from a car boot fair (a Stephen Fry book), our friend was unaccountably tired, so we bundled her off to her room for a bit of a rest.

On the way into her room, though, she stumbled. Now, I thought she had tripped over the 'hoggy doorstop, and, jokingly, accused her of mistreating that poor, poor animal, "I mean, what has it ever done to you?" I demanded.

How wrong I was. Our friend had not been guilty of mistreating a weighty stuffed animal, but of making a small misstep as a result of her footwear.

You mean, instead of being 'flop-flip'?

Heh. What a day; first boot fair, first cream tea - and her first Gem.

Fairways and motorways

Also known as autobahns in Germany and freeways in the USA, motorways are technically supposed to be a means of bypassing all those nasty things that slow traffic down, like towns and winding country lanes. In a sense, they have worked brilliantly, because those towns and country lanes are a lot easier to drive around now. However, that's only because all the traffic is now to be found - gridlocked - on these multi-lane car parks.

Do I sound bitter? Oh, I'm sorry.

Yes I have a reason. You see, we have a guest this week, a very good friend who has managed to escape from her homeland of Greece for a few days. The only things is, we live on the south coast of England, and our friend was due to arrive in Heathrow airport. This meant driving, on a Saturday early in the school holiday season, on the infamous M25 - AKA the London Orbital. It's infamous for having many delays and has in fact been portrayed as having demonic origins by messrs. Pratchett and Gaiman in the excellently witty novel, 'Good Omens'.

The original cover of the novel
featured an eerie, glowing version
of the M25.

Whatever the origins, the London Orbital was definitely living up to its reputation on Saturday. For about thirty miles, we alternated between crawling and complete halt. When we reached a service station, we gave in and decided to have lunch - only to find that the service's car park was about as gridlocked as the motorway we had just left. Going in AND leaving.

After we finally managed to leave the services and crawl our way to the airport, we had another problem - how on earth could we pick someone up without using a car park?
Answer: we couldn't.

Despite us timing our arrival perfectly with our friend's ejection from security and customs, we wound up going through two car parks and getting lost on the way. In the end, what should have been a joyful meeting was instead a hurried "Oh hello, come on, let's get going." I'd had enough of the bloody roads.
With that in mind, I went along with julie's suggestion that we avoid the M25 and head off a different route. Since she had the map, I agreed and let her chart the course.

Whoops.

Julie readily agrees that map-reading is not her forte, so she can hardly be blamed for us going around roads, hitting the same roundabout twice from different directions - and leaving it from two other different exits - and crossing the M25 two or three times.

I have no idea what our guest in the back of the car thought as we bickered our random way across the western outskirts of London, but it's possible she had some misgivings...
Eventually, more by luck than judgement, we found our way onto the M3. Feeling a very certain need, I suggested - in no uncertain terms - that we stop at the next motorway services for a trip to the loo and a nice, hot cup of tea.

Fleet Services (circled), as portrayed in our road atlas.

'...and relax...'

You may be asking, at this point, why on earth we don't have a satnav. Well, I'll give you two good reasons. Firstly, the sound and the look annoy the hell out of me. And secondly, when the bloody things get stuck into a closed loop by turning right all the time, I remember that I actually like maps and enjoy browsing them. Julie, unfortunately, doesn't have the same facility with maps as I do, so it can be a little hit and miss when it comes to going to new places.

That aside, I decided that we would consult our road atlas together, before we set off once more.

As the three of us crowded around the pages, Julie betrayed her lack of experience (because that's all it is really) once more and wondered how I knew where we were.

Our friend was ever so pleased. She'd only been in this country for a couple of hours and she'd already been at Gem ground zero.

Feeling the family love

We've just got back from a long weekend visiting my mum up in the West Midlands. I say 'my' mum, but she insists that Julie also calls her that, because she doesn't believe in the tag of 'in-law'. We had a nice time, despite our various ailments, and even managed to get out for the day as a family, with my sister and Toby (the Jack Russell) completing the group.

Another thing we managed was a game of Scrabble. As usual, there were mock-cries of 'cheat!' - along with very real aspersions cast upon the character of various people who dared to make their play in someone else's ideal place. In the meantime, there was plenty of chit-chat; after all, there was no rush, so we took our time taking our turns.

Mum had recently bought the new album by Rod Stewart, "Time". It's actually really rather good, especially as it's his first album of original material for a couple of decades...

The opening track, 'She makes me happy' is one
of the most joyous songs I've heard in ages.

The thing is though, there is the matter of earworms. The human mind is usually open to subtle suggestions, with the result that some item or event (normally an almost insignificantly minor one) will trigger some memory. In the case of earworms, what will happen is that you then have a tune stuck in your head, playing on loop for hours.

Having listened to the latest Rod Stewart album a few times, Mum was most definitely liable to have a Rod-themed earworm start up. During a quiet moment, as we all contemplated the letters on our racks, Mum suddenly began to quietly sing a Rod Stewart classic. One which elicited a particularly apposite response from Julie...

Cue much hilarity.

Mind you, considering how Rod Stewart looked at the time of this famous song, d'ya think he's sexy?

The wrong side of the tracks

Julie has a friend, an ex-colleague she has kept in touch with. The thing is, Julie's friend, Sue has a reputation for being a bit absent-minded and prone to changing her mind six or seven times a minute. Put it this way - even Julie labels Sue as being 'a bit dappy'.

Yes, I know. Scary, isn't it?

Quite some time ago, we were giving Sue a lift to visit a friend in Bexhill, the next town along from us. I have already related one part of this journey (click here to read).

The thing is, just before that event, Julie and Sue were deeply engaged in a conversation about the location of the local railway line.
From the outset, I was astounded by the fact this conversation was taking place - and that it was going on for so long. Back and forth, the two women tried to work out where the trains would be going by. After a few minutes of this, I snapped.

Just in case anyone thinks I'm being too harsh on Sue and Julie, may I present this map, courtesy of Google.

See that blue stuff? That's the sea, that is.

Baby, it's HOT outside.

For people who have been living on another planet for the last week or so, Britain is in the middle of a heatwave.

Similarly, those people may not have heard that Prince William (second in line to the throne of Britain) and his wife, Kate Middleton, are expecting a baby. In fact, said baby is a little overdue, as the original due date was for early last week. In fact, I was mildly thrilled to think that I might have shared a birthday with the third in line to the throne... Oh well.

Kate Middleton, pregnant and pretty.

As it stands, though, the baby, whose sex the royal couple are as of yet unaware, is overdue. Enough so that it is theorised (ie, gossipped) that Kate was induced. In any event, it was reported today that the royal mum-to-be is in labour in hospital (link to BBC article).

Meanwhile, in our own household this morning, I was enjoying a cup of tea, and Julie was scrolling through news stories and relating some of the headlines to me. Obviously, Kate Middleton's situation was going to be high up on the list...

...thanks for the image, love...

HUNGRRRRY! (our 400th post!)

Post number 400? Indeed it is! It's not our 400th Gem, thanks to our prize draws, but we're working on it. It's hard to believe that we started this back in February of 2011 with an odd question from Julie regarding a thin soup.

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Talking of food, I have a confession to make; I enjoy food rather too much. It's not a bolt from the blue for people that know me, but it makes a point.

You see, one of the downsides of eating a lot is that you tend to feel hungry more often. Sometimes it's a phantom feeling, but it's more usually a side-effect of your stomach simply getting into the habit of eating a lot. Julie used to have a problem herself, but a stomach bypass operation has changed that. (Ironically, the first thing that Julie had following the operation was consomme - as Gemmed all that time ago!)

For me, I find that I am often feeling at least peckish about an hour or so after a meal - something that astounds my wife. Admittedly, I have larger portions than I should, but salad only tends to go so far, no matter how much you eat. Consequently, on a recent occasion, I was feeling a little more than 'peckish'.

Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors as portrayed
by Gazzycakes on deviantArt.
http://www.deviantart.com/art/Audrey-II-38506578

>ahem<

Anyway, there had been noises issuing from my equator, so I decided to do something about it. Julie couldn't believe it.

No, that's not me.

Well played, love, well played.