The Undiscovered Country

I’ve been spending some really interesting mornings with Borrowed Time Ted (my neighbour who has just come out of hospital). I always saw him as a wishy-washy, borderline Alzheimers kind of cat, but anyone who spent 21 years in the Army and was still fathering children in his fifties is bound to have some stories to share, and so it’s proving to be. He tells me the heart attack has made him appreciate the really decent things in life.. so he wants to start smoking his pipe again. He’s also trying to teach me to play cribbage, which might be more of a challenge than he realises. It seems to me you need a brain the size of a NASA computer, insanity levels on a par with Gazza and an extraordinary amount of spare time on your hands. None of which I have, or desire. Vengeance shall be mine however – next week I’m gonna try and teach him how to master Facebook. He may be able to kick my arse counting fifteen-one and all that shit, but let’s see him deal with the psycho stalking sad-sacks out in cyberspace.

Have you tried those new Marmite cheddar miniatures? The ones that look like Babybels dipped in black ink? If you haven’t, don’t bother – they taste like vomit. And not that pleasant, unbilious, cleansing vomit either, I mean that horrible, end of a 48-hour stomach bug, bringing-up-your-own-intestines acid vomit that sticks in your throat and makes your eyes water. Don’t buy ‘em.

RC 19-3-09
1109 GMT