Image by TOONMAN_blchin via Flickr
Good Morrow, Blessed Reader,
You are 'blessed' for at least 2 reasons; firstly, you are alive and able to appreciate God's providence and secondly, you know how to have a good laugh. According to my newspaper, if you are breathing and can have a laugh, together with a moderate dose of wine, garlic and fresh produce, you are half way there to attaining membership of the ever-growing band of centenarians. Apparently, the quickest way is just to go and live in France, but we can't all do that. Seems the oldest ever lady (officially wise, like Guinness Book of Records type criteria) was French and lived to the ripe old age of 122. Well, you will see from my pics that I am a pilgrim on that road; I am long in the tooth, vertically challenged, getting all I can out of life and hoping the Queen will be well enough to hand-deliver my congrats on my 100th! Just hope I don't resemble the guy in the 1st pic too much by then-no offence if he is a fan of my diary. I admire the post-modern fashion statement!
Problem arose recently, though. I was 'up the walls', had ' a screw loose', 'got the picture' and couldn't 'see the light'--all figuratively and literally.(If you reckon that was easy to construct, then you have not yet caught the bug of literary creation. Mind you, just about every other bug seems to be doing the rounds. Anyway, I had better extract my self from parenthetical hell or the impatient among you will complain that I don't get to the point. The very idea!)
You see, being a little on the short but perfectly formed side, has meant that I couldn't reach the bulb on my stair-landing light. The bulb went pop, I rang my know-all son-in-law ( Yes, the one who reckons this diary is his baby, just 'cos he conceived it and inseminated it onto the world wide 'Spider's web or whatever it is). Well, he smugly asked if it was 'screw in' or 'bayonet'? I thought I would give him a bit of my peerless wit and told him the last time I fixed a bayonet, I intended to shove it where the 'sun don't shine'! Not even a titter. He just muttered something about me 'having a screw loose'. I really will have to wear those bally hearing aids. People could be saying anything. My daughter keeps going on about having to repeat everything to me. Well, if she will mumble.....
Well, the son-in-law deigned to screw the bulb back in. Thank goodness, because, at last, I could see the new wall painting on the stairwell in all its glory. Did I not tell you? I love buying pictures--no Rembrandts or such like, just pretty daubs from the stores. Talking of pretty daubs, the picture subjects are normally lovely ladies and nature or, ideally, a combination of the two. Nothing smutty, just on the saucy side of tasteful. I buy them at bargain prices. I start with the 'Pound' Shop and work up. I am very astute like that! ( The 'Pound' shop has been a real find. I have 3000 torch batteries, a plastic 'white elephant' and a book called 'Salmon Fishing in the Yemen'. I think it's great for those everyday necessities!).
Thing is, I am beginning to run out of wall space. I have 3 pictures, waiting to be hung up, under my bed, and I can't stop buying the next picture that catches my eye. I may have to start sticking them on the ceilings or build an extension. Must say, though, the idea of a voluptuous maiden staring down at me from the ceiling over my bed, does have its attractions! By the way, my grand-daughter is an art auctioneer, and as such knows her daubs from her Dalis, her arts from the ones she would elbow ( You get 'the picture'. Well, she certainly does!) I asked her to professionally appraise my art collection when she was last over on hols.
Well, she said she would be honest, but after one look, she seemed to take some sort of a fit. After some smelling salts, her remarks that she whispered before the doctor arrived included, 'Beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder. Your paintings are definitely 'priceless'. In fact, I just couldn't put a value on them. Don't worry about insuring them (and most encouragingly, I thought,), I haven't felt quite this way since I saw Tracy Emin's Unmade bed and Damien Hurst's dead animals!' Well, It looks like I'm moving in the right direction then. I will only be a matter of time before my collection achieves the recognition it deserves!
Anyway, 2 quickies before I go and admire my artwork. I had a 'wikileak' moment the other day. I left the bath running again and I nearly flooded the floor, so did the bath-water, if you catch my drift. Also, a lady I met on my travels was chatting me up, as they do, and I said I would like to run my fingers through her hair. She said, 'Hold on and I'll throw it over to you!' Hey-ho. It's all in the day of a GOG (Grumpy 'ol geezer/git!)
Yours footloose, well screwed up on occasions, but always jolly,
The blogging Gogfather!
You see, being a little on the short but perfectly formed side, has meant that I couldn't reach the bulb on my stair-landing light. The bulb went pop, I rang my know-all son-in-law ( Yes, the one who reckons this diary is his baby, just 'cos he conceived it and inseminated it onto the world wide 'Spider's web or whatever it is). Well, he smugly asked if it was 'screw in' or 'bayonet'? I thought I would give him a bit of my peerless wit and told him the last time I fixed a bayonet, I intended to shove it where the 'sun don't shine'! Not even a titter. He just muttered something about me 'having a screw loose'. I really will have to wear those bally hearing aids. People could be saying anything. My daughter keeps going on about having to repeat everything to me. Well, if she will mumble.....
Well, the son-in-law deigned to screw the bulb back in. Thank goodness, because, at last, I could see the new wall painting on the stairwell in all its glory. Did I not tell you? I love buying pictures--no Rembrandts or such like, just pretty daubs from the stores. Talking of pretty daubs, the picture subjects are normally lovely ladies and nature or, ideally, a combination of the two. Nothing smutty, just on the saucy side of tasteful. I buy them at bargain prices. I start with the 'Pound' Shop and work up. I am very astute like that! ( The 'Pound' shop has been a real find. I have 3000 torch batteries, a plastic 'white elephant' and a book called 'Salmon Fishing in the Yemen'. I think it's great for those everyday necessities!).
Thing is, I am beginning to run out of wall space. I have 3 pictures, waiting to be hung up, under my bed, and I can't stop buying the next picture that catches my eye. I may have to start sticking them on the ceilings or build an extension. Must say, though, the idea of a voluptuous maiden staring down at me from the ceiling over my bed, does have its attractions! By the way, my grand-daughter is an art auctioneer, and as such knows her daubs from her Dalis, her arts from the ones she would elbow ( You get 'the picture'. Well, she certainly does!) I asked her to professionally appraise my art collection when she was last over on hols.
Well, she said she would be honest, but after one look, she seemed to take some sort of a fit. After some smelling salts, her remarks that she whispered before the doctor arrived included, 'Beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder. Your paintings are definitely 'priceless'. In fact, I just couldn't put a value on them. Don't worry about insuring them (and most encouragingly, I thought,), I haven't felt quite this way since I saw Tracy Emin's Unmade bed and Damien Hurst's dead animals!' Well, It looks like I'm moving in the right direction then. I will only be a matter of time before my collection achieves the recognition it deserves!
Anyway, 2 quickies before I go and admire my artwork. I had a 'wikileak' moment the other day. I left the bath running again and I nearly flooded the floor, so did the bath-water, if you catch my drift. Also, a lady I met on my travels was chatting me up, as they do, and I said I would like to run my fingers through her hair. She said, 'Hold on and I'll throw it over to you!' Hey-ho. It's all in the day of a GOG (Grumpy 'ol geezer/git!)
Yours footloose, well screwed up on occasions, but always jolly,
The blogging Gogfather!
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