Going beyond approximation

You know it's a good day for Gems when it's hardly worth putting the notepad and pen back in your pocket.

Case in point; We were walking along the seafront. Just in front, there was a very young lad with his mother. Being young, he wasn't too steady on his feet, and it wasn't long before the inevitable happened...
Over he went and immediately - if not before - the caterwauling began. However, I have to give full credit to the mother. Apparently an old hand at this game, she efficiently scooped him up and deposited him onto a nearby bench, whereupon there was this little exchange.

"Right - let's get those shorts legs up and have a look at the damage, shall we?"
[the kid's wailing continues]
"See? Nothing wrong; no blood."
[The wailing cuts off like it was switched off] "No blood?!?"

Both Julie and me laughed at this. There was so much indignation in the young lad's voice; it had been a terrible accident - how dare there be no blood?
This was pure Gem as far as I was concerned, so I got pad & pen out. Now, I have to admit something here, something of a failing. I'm absolutely useless at guessing ages. If I'm within five years of a person's real age, then it's something of a miracle. So, pad at the ready, I turned to Julie...

See what I mean about it being a good day for Gems? Naturally, I needed to get this down too. I lose quite a few Gems this way, through not being able to keep up with events or simply not being able to remember how something went. If you have a flick through the posts tagged with 'rambling on', you'll see what I mean. Man, I need to get some kind of dictaphone... Either that or learn shorthand.

tata fer now!

Taking a position on height issues

 A new chocolate-themed cafe opened up in town last weekend, so we thought we would drop by and have a drink and maybe a bite to eat. (before anyone says anything, I had a mozzarella and tomato sandwich, no chocolate. OK, so Julie did have a crêpe covered with melted Belgian chocolate.)
Boy, was it busy. Mind you, it may have something to do with the fact they had an opening offer of 25% off all items for sale.
>sigh< OK, OK. I bought a bar of white chocolate with poppy seeds and lemon flavouring.
Anyway. We were sat down at a table, and I made the comment that my chair appeared to be a little taller than Julie's. My wife disagreed and said it was probably just me. As she explained;

As it happens, she's spot on. I am taller than her. However, what Julie meant to say was that while I may be taller overall, I'm taller in the body than she is, so I'd be taller than her when.. we're.. sat... down.
Er. 
I'm not helping, here, am I?

A war of worms and words

Last weekend, as I said in Wednesday's post, Saturday was hot, damn hot. Even bearing in mind I had some slow-cooking sausages in my backpack, we just wanted to get home, where it was cooler inside than out.
Some time later, after a refreshing wash and a drink or few, dusk had fallen and the air was beginning to cool down. Even then, it was still rather pleasant, sitting in our back garden.

When night proper had arrived, we decided to go for a brief stroll up to the sea front. There was very little wind and there was that stillness you get where every slightest noise sounds louder than it should do. That in mind, we were talking in quiet, conversational tones when we reached the prom (promenade, for those confusing the term with a school ball*).
As we reached what is known as The Splash Point, I saw torch light coming from the shoreline.
Julie's explanation for it?

(Translation: they were fishermen looking for fish bait on the freshly revealed sandy part of the beach. This may not be entirely true, as they may also have been looking for razor shells. They're rather tasty, but you don't have much time to get them between the tide retreating and the 'shells digging down to avoid predation and/or drying out.)
It also has to be said that this Gem reminds me so very much of the Spike Jones and his City Slickers 'version' of 'The man on the flying trapeze'. Fancy a listen? Of course you do. Here's the link.

That's it for this week - have a great weekend, folks!


*Although, just to confuse you even more, the term 'Prom' for a high school ball also originates from the full term 'promenade', because the bright young things were being seen to be 'stepping out'. Indeed many of the original dance styles included a promenade.

The obvious is so bright, I gotta wear shades (part 2)

(for part one, click here.)

It's been lovely weather lately, the kind of sunny days where you go out for a stroll and sit outside a café or pub, and watching the world go by as you sip at your beer, tea or latte....
...and just drift off into a contemplative haze...
...mmm...

Whu? Oh, so sorry - I must have slipped into a little reverie just then.
A few weekends ago, me and Julie were doing exactly this. We had been talking, but this had gradually wound to a halt as we kicked back and relaxed. It was a pretty bright day and we were both wearing sunglasses. After a while, I suddenly became aware that Julie was waving a hand at me to get my attention.

How else are you supposed to wear sunglasses? Polite, physically possible suggestions are welcome.

Cooking up an explanation - Spooner-style.

I am a great fan of the good old British sausage. I am a bit fussy though. Silly me, really, for expecting a meat sausage to contain more than 60% proper meat and not various dubious chewy bits and half a bowl of breakfast cereal to pad it out. So, the (relatively) recent arrival in town of a proper pie and sausage shop run by butchers filled me with great delight.
My wallet, on the other hand was Sh***ing bricks.
Last Saturday, we were a little late getting into town and was further delayed in crossing the town centre by the presence of my favourite Blues busker, Slim Lightfoot. Consequently, when we reached this shop, stocks were running low on their early closing day. When I was made a fairly lucrative deal on some lemon and garden herb pork bangers, my mouth and stomach managed to operate my hand and arm all by themselves. A dozen fine sausages were mine.

Unfortunately, Saturday was hot. Damn hot. Not the sort of day you want to be wandering around with twelve bangers in your backpack.* So, all in jest, I said to Julie....

Yes folks, Reverend Spooner is alive and well and currently inhabiting my wife's body.

*Is it me, or would "Twelve bangers in your backpack" be an absolutely brilliant book or rock album title?

Compatibility screening is going too far

Humans are odd folks. Thousands of years of evolution - physical and social - and we end up with people who can talk for ages without saying anything worth mentioning (shooting for a little irony there). Quite often, this will usually take place via a telephone call - especially when you've run out of real news to impart to a relative and you then spend the next quarter of an hour saying 'goodbye'.

It also happens a lot when you bump into someone you know and go through the standard phrases, such as "Oh my god, how long has it been?" and "Alright mate - how's it going?"* Me and my colleagues are guilty of taking this to a highly ridiculous degree - I work in a warehouse and we are, quite understandably, often seeing each other throughout the day. The thing is, we'll often treat each encounter like we haven't met for some time. With one workmate, I ask him "Hello there - did you have a nice weekend?" regardless of what day of the week it is.

Yes, I'm nuts.

There's one commonly-used meeting phrase I have yet to mention - for good reason. Julie and myself often engage in the 'just-met' banter when we're out and about. This time, we were in a shop, queuing to pay and then Julie initiated this exchange....

Bear in mind we were in the middle of a shop queue at this point. I'll admit to having been completely flummoxed by Julie's comeback, although I'm not sure what got me more; what she meant to say or what she actually said...

**EDIT**
Sorry about this folks, I forgot that not everyone may know the acronyms VD or VDU
VD clinic = somewhere that treats people suffering from venereal diseases.
VDU = Visual Display Unit (ie a computer monitor)

*As Terry Pratchett once noted, all these empty phrases mean are "Hello, I'm alive and so are you"

This hooter's a bit of a twit-twoo

On one of our walks, me and Julie were passing through what we would call the 'posh' part of town and admiring/envying the houses and surroundings. On the wall around one house, however, there was a plastic owl. I suppose having a beautiful house in a nice area doesn't guarantee the taste of the person owning the house.

Anyway, for some bizarre reason, this owl gave Julie an idea for getting me out of bed in the morning (which is admittedly a difficult job, and one not made any easier by the fact I have this ability to turn off my alarm without even waking up. No mean feat if the clock is on the other side of the room).

Now see, my problem sometimes is that I have a very active imagination. When Julie came up with this foolproof plan, I suddenly had this mental image of an owl clocking off from his job, winging his way home and stopping off at the shop down the road for the paper and a pint of milk. As he gets back, he puts the kettle on, makes himself a cuppa and goes up to his room to kick back and relax, read the paper and listen to the radio. On his way past, Oswald gives my door a hefty kick and calls, "Come on, you lazy sod. I KNOW your alarm went of half an hour ago..."
From beneath the duvet, two fingers appear and salute the owl, "Morning to you, too, Oz ye noisy git."
And so begins another weary day...