Left-Over Posts? Snippets Not Quite Meaty Enough On Their Own To Make A Satisfying Post?
This Is The Place To Come To Use Them Up.

Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Is it just me?

I'll tell you what's embarrassing.  (I know you didn't ask, but I'm telling you anyway.)  It's when the noises your tummy is making (gurgle, gurgle, big-mega gurgle) are louder than the verbal contributions you are making to a meeting at work - and perhaps more interesting.

I'll tell you what else is embarrassing.  (Ditto. Ssh.)  It's when you can't leave the office because, as you tried to leave, the doorhandle went up the sleeve of your jacket so that you are trapped for a second or two and then ping back into the room.

I'll tell you what else is embarrassing.  (Ditto.  Will ya leave off?) It's when the phone rings in the office and you are eating a toffee, but you're the only one there to answer, and then it turns out to be someone who wants to talk about important things and not things-to-discuss-while-going-nom-nom-nom.

I'll tell you what else ...

No, okay.  I give in.  Go back to your newspaper.

Saturday, 25 September 2010

It’s a slow day in the so. of Fr.


A farmer wants to ferry a (giant) cabbage, a goat, and a wolf across a river in a boat. The problem is that the boat is small: besides the farmer it can carry at most one of the cabbage, the goat, and the wolf. To make things worse, without the farmer's supervision the goat would chew on the cabbage, and the wolf would chew on the goat. What is the minimum number of river crossings the farmer must make to accomplish his goal without the possibility of damage to the cabbage or the goat? (This is not a trick question, so creative shortcuts, such as taping the animal's mouth, roping the cabbage to the goat's back, etc., are not to be considered.)
a) 5
b) 7
c) 9
d) 11
e) he cannot do it in any number of crossings




Note to FTSE:  I know you’ll get it before the end of sentence #2, but let’s make the other soupers stew for a while!   

Wednesday, 22 September 2010

Continuing The Theme

What's in a name?

Do you have a problem
with a face you cannot name?
As you see someone approaching,
do you hang your head in shame,
then mutter 'Hello Mr Er..?'
while thinking 'What's-'is- name?
I get covered in confusion
but no matter how I try,
the name is not forthcoming,
it's enough to make one cry!

The faces I remember -
I could draw them if I must -
and it's nowt to do with ageing,
or pipes turning to rust.
It just that I was born this way,
without a naming filter -
or if I had one, it soon got
completely out of kilter!
So forgive me, should I see you,
that I merely smile and say
'Hello, my dear old buddy,
nice to meet you here today!'

Sunday, 19 September 2010

You're Not Called That ?

I've got a fatal flaw ( well , I may have several but today we're talking about this one in particular ) .
I tend to hear names differently and and , once settled as such in my head , so they stay .
My ex-mother in law had a friend called Molly Wood who eventually became Folly Wood to everyone , not just me .The wholefood chain "Fresh and Wild " became "Wet and Wild " , though the Stoke Newington branch , at least , is perfectly tame and a rather pleasant place to buy herb teas .
But this week our employer has decreed that it's that time again . Team-building , Exchanging Information , Sharing ... call it what you like . All the playgroup workers in town will have dinner in a local restaurant , enjoy each other's company and bond .
When I first heard where we were going , I heard Woks' R Us . Well , I'd never been to a wok palace .
The whole family had fun thinking of other suitable names for a wok joint . "You'll Never Wok Alone" , "Wok On The Wild Side" , "Wok On By" .
Actually it turns out to be called Mei Wha , wok palace just being a generic name for a eat-as-much-stirfry-as-you-can place .
"My Way"anyone ?

By the way , the Beatles are back .
There are posters in the local supermarket with their photo on and everything . Beatles Revival in huge red letters too .But I can't help wondering if the impresario hasn't got it a bit wrong . Is the church hall going to be big enough ?

Saturday, 18 September 2010

A Poetic Reference

“Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?”


Robert Browning (not pictured)

Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, 14 September 2010

Kids, eh?

Please send YOUR answers anywhere except to Dr.FTSE

Wednesday, 8 September 2010

Would you steal an abandoned boiled sweet?

I saw it there, sitting on a table in the staff room at school, at 4pm.  A boiled sweet (a Murray mint, for the initiated), alone and unclaimed.  I looked at it.  For a long time.  Then turned my back and went back down to the office.

At 5pm, I had to come back up to do some photocopying.  The boiled sweet was still there, in exactly the same place.  (Surely if someone really wanted it and had mislaid it, they would have come looking .....)  I did my photocopying.  Then I looked at the sweet again.  For a long, long time.  Then turned my back and went back down to the office.

At 6pm, I had to come back up to check a duty rota before I went home.  It had been three hours since I'd had anything to eat or drink.  I was tired.  I was weary.  My mouth was dry.  And, as I stood and looked at the sweet, everything I'd ever believed about morality was crumbling.

At 6.03, after much consideration ....

I'll leave you to guess.

Tuesday, 7 September 2010

As Opposed To ?

Sonata ,
I saw this above a shop front in Lille this weekend :

Mind you , I'd better not become a regular at June's diner , otherwise any kind of mobility at all might be difficult .....

Monday, 6 September 2010

Strappin' on the ol' feedbag

On Saturday my friend BonBon and I stopped for lunch at a local dining establishment, called The Alley Cat.  The place caters to farmers, hunters, drunks and others early to bed and early to rise; it opens at five in the morning and closes at six in the evening, and reading a single page of the menu could cause arterial blockage.
As I said, we were there for lunch, but they serve breakfast all day, and at noon the chalkboard still offered the breakfast special: French toast sandwiched with ice cream, topped with whipped cream and drizzled with caramel. Get up, go have that for breakfast, go home and go to bed to sleep off the sugar, and you're still up in time to get to the hardware store at nine o'clock.

Abstemious I ordered a salad. It was a submarine sandwich without the bread: Iceberg lettuce, topped with a pound of roast beef, cheese, ham and turkey, and was served with a gravy boat of blue cheese dressing.
There are healthy items on the menu. They offer bowls of oatmeal, for example. With the option of ice cream melting on top.

All in all, my kind of place. Here in this climate the humans, like Arctic whales, need to maintain a healthy layer of blubber to withstand the oncoming winter. Besides, that kind of food makes us Northeasterners happy and mellow.
It feeds our souls and and prepares us for meeting our Maker.
At early ages.

Wednesday, 1 September 2010

It's the way you tell them.....

In theory, dealing with the death of a pet is supposed to be a valuable if painful lesson for children in understanding the fragility of life, allowing them to grieve, to say goodbye, sometimes in a ritualised way such as a burial, and to move on.

In theory.

My friend L has been looking after the guinea pigs and hamster that belong to her brother's terribly over-indulged children, while they all went off for a week's holiday. She visited the little creatures twice daily, possibly offering a more dedicated service in terms of care, attention, food and cage-cleaning than the children ever gave their pets.

Yesterday, she discovered that one of the guinea pigs had died.

Very upset, she spent time wrapping the guinea pig and placing it in a box ready for burial when the family returned some time today.

Then she rang her brother in his  seaside cottage.

"Michael, are you on your own?" she began, voice quavering.

"Of course I'm not alone!" he responded, somewhat testily. "We're all here!"

"Well, listen before you say anything aloud", said L. "I have some sad news for you to break to the children. I found Libby in the hutch this evening. She died today."

"OH MY GOD!" roared Michael to his family. "LIBBY'S DEAD!"

And by close of play today, that guinea pig had been replaced by another, and the dead one remains in its box, unburied, already forgotten. L is most likely to take it away and bury it herself.

There's a lesson there somewhere, that's for sure.

Do you see what I see?

A special present for the
one-legged shoe fetishist?