WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT ALPHA?

 Richard is preening himself (or picking fleas off others) because his brother-in-law called him an alpha male.

You can read about it in his latest post.

Yes, I know, that's funny eh, thinking of him as a macho man.

MACHO MAN

More like that guy dressed as a cop in the Village People video.

Mind you, if this becomes an obsession with Richard, and past history suggests that this is likely he could apply for a position as a Queen's Guardsman.

ROYAL GUARDSMACHOMEN

"SHE'S A LUCKY WOMAN TREV"

 Trev: "Reckon".

As expected The Old Girl took over the painting-the-new-windows job and I was relegated to the fetching and carrying role.

She was using the Gorilla stepladders and the linking trestle plank but wanted something a bit more manoeuvrable (once my shortcomings as a fetcher and a carrier were proven). "I want one of those little platforms that connect to the steps" she said.

Yesterday, when we went to Mitre 10 no 'little platform that connects to the steps' was to be seen anywhere so she did what no self-respecting bloke does in a hardware store - she asked someone. Sure enough a 'little platform that connects to the steps' was duly found and she was delighted with it.

"That can be my birthday present" she declared and I willingly accepted. Her birthday is on January 7th.

Before we left the tradesmen section she spied a hand truck.

"Ooo, I want one of those" she said. "We're getting old and that'll be useful for moving things".

"OK" I answered "but that'll have to be your anniversary present". Our 34th anniversary is on February 3rd.

"OK" she agreed.

The ladder platform cost $47 and the hand truck "39. A good deal and presents problem sorted.

WHERE'S RICHARD?

 To continue this very popular school photo series I thought I'd check out Richard (of RBB) during his five years at St Patrick's College.

Here we see him in 1966 in class 3G (don't ask).

We next find him in 1967 (the year of change to decimal currency) He is in class 4G.

In 1968 Richard was with his mates in 5G*.

In 1969 Richard was in Lower 6 G.1 class which is a fancier way of saying "6 G" I guess.

But here's the thing. In the 1970 St Patrick's College yearbook, The Patrician, Richard cannot be found in any photographs of 6th or 7th formers and isn't listed as being absent for the photographs. What happened to him? There were rumours of course ....... French Foreign Legion, The Seminary for trainee priests, Borstal .... but I prefer this one:

Well in advance of modern day cross gender acceptance and the LGBQT movement, Richard had enrolled at St Mary's College

The person sitting in the centre (5th from the left) looks suspiciously like Richard.

Note: The two girls at left in the second row have spied something amiss. Maybe it was the Holy Ghost or the Virgin Mary coming to check out Richard.

* Not to be confused with 5G which is the 5th generation mobile network technology meant to deliver higher multi-Gbps peak data speeds, ultra low latency, more reliability, massive network capacity, increased availability, and a more uniform user experience to more users. This obviously doesn't describe those guys in 5G in 1968.

SCHOOL DAZE

 

'SCHOOL' - SUPERTRAMP

"Don't do this and don't do that
What are they trying to do?
Make a good boy of you
Do they know where it's at?
Don't criticize, they're old and wise
Do as they tell you to
Don't want the devil to
Come out and put your eyes"

Richard followed my Post of school photos with a 'post' of his own. HERE and AND HERE

Look, he tries hard, let's give him that and move on.

I looked through the year books to the year that Robert started college - 1969. While Robert didn't make the top class - 3P, to be fair he did make 3P2 which, if we were to use a Christian analogy, being between 3P and 3G is like being in Purgatory between Heaven and Hell.

Anyway here are some photos that show where The Curmudgeon, Robert and Richard naturally gravitated to:

 

The Curmudgeon hung out with the cool guys

Robert hung out with the 'cool' school band

Richard hung out with these 'cool' guys who were just cold. (Note: he can't be seen because he's at the front of the queue).

WHERE'S WALLY? *

 

Perceived Intelligence Is Associated with Measured Intelligence in Men but Not Women

An article by Karel Kleisner, * Veronika Chvátalová, and Jaroslav Flegr

Background

The ability to accurately assess the intelligence of other persons finds its place in everyday social interaction and should have important evolutionary consequences.

Methodology/Principal Findings

We used static facial photographs of 40 men and 40 women to test the relationship between measured IQ, perceived intelligence, and facial shape. Both men and women were able to accurately evaluate the intelligence of men by viewing facial photographs. In addition to general intelligence, figural and fluid intelligence showed a significant relationship with perceived intelligence, but again, only in men. No relationship between perceived intelligence and IQ was found for women. We used geometric morphometrics to determine which facial traits are associated with the perception of intelligence, as well as with intelligence as measured by IQ testing. Faces that are perceived as highly intelligent are rather prolonged with a broader distance between the eyes, a larger nose, a slight upturn to the corners of the mouth, and a sharper, pointing, less rounded chin. By contrast, the perception of lower intelligence is associated with broader, more rounded faces with eyes closer to each other, a shorter nose, declining corners of the mouth, and a rounded and massive chin. By contrast, we found no correlation between morphological traits and real intelligence measured with IQ test, either in men or women.

Conclusions

These results suggest that a perceiver can accurately gauge the real intelligence of men, but not women, by viewing their faces in photographs; however, this estimation is possibly not based on facial shape. Our study revealed no relation between intelligence and either attractiveness or face shape.

Well that may be what's been published but, if you ask me, there are some pretty dodgy looking guys in that top photograph.

* It was a trick question. The nearest was a kid named Nally - Kevin Nally - top right in the 3C class photo which isn't shown above. Sorry about that but feel free to try and find Richard.

BUILDER'S CRACK

 Now that the silly Christmas event is over and it's a normal Monday I decided to continue cutting up the old deck timber.

My EGO chainsaw will soon require sharpening but it's still dong the job, albeit slowly through the very hard deck timber  (Kwila?). I hope that, because it's so hard it hasn't been treated with CCA so should be OK for burning. If not I'll take it to the tip after New Year.

I've been making quite a racket but decided to do it today rather than on Christmas day or Boxing Day. I don't think that there's anything special about the day two days after Christmas. Maybe Robert knows if it has anything to do with the Catholic Church - perhaps Saint James The Dismembered (real) which would be appropriate to my activities.

This means that the neighbours, on both sides who are up here for Christmas in their holiday houses, won't be too disturbed other than from the view of me as a 'tradie'.

How are you spending Saint James The Dismembered day?

NEW POST - THE RELIGIOUS CURMUDGEON

 It's been a while since The Religious Curmudgeon has brought you one of St Paul's letters. He apologises for that but here's one of his earliest:

LETTER TO THE ROMANS

BOYS AND THEIR TOYS

 

Living by the water we get our fair share of men with their toys - tractors, quad-bikes, motorboats and jetskis.

One of the most common factor with these is their ability to make noise.

Now I have a theory that if these 'toys' were quiet they wouldn't be so popular and we'd all get a double dose of happiness.

Bring on electric cars, boats, tractors, motorbikes and, dare I say it - jetskis.

SO, WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THE UK?*

 * Other than that they are all dying from Omicron.

Britain's answer to Donald Trump, Boris Johnson is on the way out.

His approval ratings have severely dropped, not unlike our own version of Donald Trump, Judith Collins's ratings dived before she got the old heave ho.

Johnson hasn't done a lot to contain the Covid virus variants and thought that his so-called boyish charm could get him past the boozing scandals that have rocked him and his administration.

According to the ConservativeHome survey, his popularity among Conservative activists has slumped. It puts Johnson on minus 17 per cent, compared with foreign secretary Liz Truss's plus 82.

WOKE UP THIS MORNING* ..... CHRISTMAS MORNING

* You know the song.

 I awoke to a beautiful day - sunny and windless.

I've just been lying in bed reading and enjoying the view.

Finally getting up at about 10AM I made myself a coffee with Bailey's in it and had a slice of the apple and Christmas fruit mix slice I made last night.

It doesn't quite look like the image in the recipe, especially without the icing sugar coating but it is scrumptious.

For dinner tonight I'm making a smoked salmon, caper, dill and goat's cheese tart:

Robert's god knows what it'll look like but I'm sure that it will taste good.

Hey! How's your Christmas day going? 

Two thousand and twenty one years ago (plus about another five or six years as Emperor Constantine and his cronies in the fourth century weren't too bothered about facts when they made up the Jesus Christ story, one of Robert's favourite three gods was may have been born. Happy birthday to that fella.

In case you were wondering The Old Girl's been out gardening. There's only a week or so to go before the gardening contractors are coming in to excavate and rebuild the front garden so she wants it to be 'tidy' before they arrive. 😕

FOR ROBERT ON SATURDAY MORNING

"Truth, which is God, is all around." said Robert in a recent post under the new mantle of:

Contemplating God, Faith, and Truth

Oh well, here's something to remind him of how his god got around a bit:

I'VE GOT A BONE TO PICK ....

 

I put a comment on a Neighbourly post earlier and am waiting for all the entitled dog owners to have a go at me. This Neighbourly site is a laugh. It purports to be about bringing communities together but what I see mostly is how racist, nasty and stupid so many people are. Richard shouldn't go there as most of the morons can't spell and grammar is something they think they are related to (they aren't because they're bastards).

I know that Northland is one of the few regions of New Zealand that have comparatively low Covid vaccination figures but reading Neighbourly you'd think that the majority are red-necked, anti-vax, conspiracy believing, red-hatted, National supporting christians. The anti-Labour Government, 'freedom' stance is frightening but I guess is just the tail wagging the dog ....

..... speaking of which ....... the post I commented on was by a DOC supporter who reminded people with dogs to be aware that most of the Whangarei Heads area is Kiwi sanctuary and to control their dogs.

I commented: 

..... which is pretty mild but people up here are feral like some of Richard and Robert's neighbours.

At each end of the nice walking tracks we have around here there are council signs giving directions and instructions including stickers (or sometimes painted on) that either forbid dogs or require that dogs be on leashes. Of course some scrotes think that they're above that and ignore the signs. I often have to remind people of this who I encounter on one of the tracks who have an unleashed (and potentially uncontrolled) dog. "Oh he (or she)'s friendly" they invariably say while I give the dog a mental message that if it thinks of even looking at a kiwi I'll boot it into the harbour.

One of these dog people, or maybe all of them are responsible for removing the stickers. I've approached the council about this and have been given vague responses that they will look into it. If they do something I guess the stickers get ripped off. 

I haven't heard anything further.

A couple of years ago I approached the council for a sign that I could put up on the grass verge by the steps leading down to the beach opposite or house..

The council did send me a sign which I laminated and attached to a post that I installed. This lasted for over 3 years until a big storm destroyed it.

I don't think that I'll bother with another council sign but instead I'll have this one made up and install it:

Have a Merry Christmas.

GOLF, TENNIS, CHAINSAW, GOD

 I've taken some time to write some long and researched posts recently. For all the good that has done, particularly with regard to Robert and his attention span of a goldfish, I might as well have been pissing into my own ear.

Looking at Robert's own posts he doesn't put much thought or effort into these, preferring to copy a silly quotation from some long dead and discredited fool, adding a bit of nonsense about catholicism and finishing with a very brief note on what takeaway food or supermarket ready meal he plans to have for dinner. Like his blogging, his cooking too is a thing of laziness and lack of inspiration.

Anyway, for no good reason this post follows his format.

I played golf on Wednesday for the first time in nearly 3 months. I played outstandingly (for me) and the new (second hand from Trade Me) clubs worked really well. I played 8 holes and only duffed up two shots and I found 6 golf balls! My back was a bit sore afterwards and I had to have a long soak in the bath with Epsom salts and Radox.

Yesterday I played tennis and tried a new serve which went well. "What's happened to your spin serves" they asked "not that we miss them". Oh the banter at the tennis club is scintillating. Robert would be impressed but Richard would just sit there glumly looking for grammatical errors. My back was fine afterwards but .....

..... I chopped up about 20 long pieces of old decking wood with my chainsaw in the afternoon, giving me about 160 bits of wood for the wood-burner. I had to stop at 20 because the battery was fading, the saw was getting blunt and my back was hurting. The deck wood is extremely hard and it was tough getting through it even with my trusty EGO battery chainsaw.

I had a long soak in a bath with Epsom salts and Radox and feel better today.

Lat night's tea was Tandoori roast chicken salad.

Sort of like this.

What about god you might ask?  Nothing. It doesn't exist.

"I WANT MY MOLENBURG ...."

 ..... or I did before some bastard started changing it. Admittedly I haven't bought and tasted it for some years but ....

I've been making our own bread for a few years now using a bread-maker which some purists like Robert might say is cheating and I should do everything by hand, taking several hours each day to roll out dough, wait for it to rise and cook in a wood-fired oven that I'd built earlier in the day- all while listening to Radio New Zealand. Well, fuck that. My answer would be - "and you never use a toaster, a vacuum cleaner, a washing machine, a microwave oven, a cake mixer....? Sheesh!"

Moving on.

Yesterday when grocery shopping, as I hadn't cooked a fresh loaf, The Old Girl texted me to buy a Molenburg loaf while I was out. We used to enjoy this brand as it made nice soft sandwiches with a slightly nutty flavour from the grains. I bought a loaf and - boy were we disappointed.

"This isn't as good as the bread you make" she said and, sure enough, when I tried it, it wasn't. That nice milky, almost creamy texture of the bread has gone and there doesn't appear to be as much grain added as I remember.

This morning I made toast with it and - shock, horror - as I put two slices into the toaster I noticed that the bread was smaller. No longer are there the nice slabs and instead the slices have shrunk in thickness and width and depth. Bastards!

I showed The Old Girl and then went on-line to search if anyone else had noticed this. Sure enough there were lots of examples and a year ago there was a Fair Go discussion about it.

So some smart arse at Molenburg (or its new owners) decided, for cost  and savings reasons to production engineer Molenburg downwards in both size and quality. This exercise, which probably saves a couple of hundred thousands of dollars per year and got the engineer, accountant or marketer a bonus. What it also got them though, as has been shown by other brands that have done this, is a drop in consumer confidence and eventually brand extinction.

Supermarkets are greedy bullies when it comes to dealing with suppliers and no doubt Molenburg has, to stay on shelves, had to drop their sell-in prices drastically and have been screwed by shelf placement charges, promotional fees and all sorts of other usurious extortions that can 'legally' be wielded. They caved in and paid all that and eventually decided to gouge the consumer - not by price increases but by cheapening the product. I've seen this before in the wine industry where good product has been engineered downwards to meet price points and margin necessities after being squeezed by the grocers. The result has invariably been the loss of brand equity and ranges of wine brands eventually being discontinued.

Molenburg had an enviable consumer loyalty that was nurtured by a great product that stood out and by clever TV advertising.  I WANT MY MOLENBURG

It looks like, to me that they've shot themselves in the foot. I won't be buying it again.

I DON'T WANT YOUR MOLENBURG!

RICH ENTITLEMENT

 I went for my first swim of the season today - two months later than I did last year.

We've had a strange Spring and early Summer here with many storms. Although it's been hot I don't like to swim after the rains because of the run-off from roads, farms and stormwater systems which tend to make the water a bit murky. Who knows what chemicals get washed out into the sea?

Today the water was clear. It was warm enough to get into easily but with a cool edge to be refreshing after playing tennis. There were no boats operating which is a bit strange for the time of year being already the holiday season but it was peaceful and pleasant. Long may it last. Luckily we don't have many millionaires living up here and hopefully will never have billionaires.

******************

On the way home from tennis I listened to Nikki Mandow, business commentator, talking to Kathryn Ryan on Nine To Noon. Nikki talked  about some Auckland protests where homeowners are fighting the council against regulations being relaxed to enable some rich(er) people to do what they bloody like and to hell with the rest of us. A by-product of the insane housing prices in the major cities and the explosion of wealth, with earnings imbalance for the top few percent of the population, is that there is now a bigger divide between the wealthy and the poor than ever before. The rich can buy what they want and, it seems that with the ability to pay high legal fees and to lobby government and council lawmakers, this can also include rights and privilege.

Nikki Mander talked about two current Auckland issues - the Ali Williams and Anna Mowbray Westmere helipad situation and a sand issue at Herne Bay beach.

.

"Auckland Council doesn’t actually have any rules about people in the city putting helipads in their back gardens. There are rules about keeping chickens, and playing music, and how high off the ground you can put a water tank.

But there's nothing specifically related to helipads. Which seems odd, until you think that the council probably doesn’t have rules about people building a private nuclear power plant or digging a coal mine in the garden. Presumably back in the day when the unitary plan was put together, helicopters were something that landed at airports; the council probably reckoned they didn’t need to have specific guidelines about helicopters and urban gardens.

How things have changed."

         - Niki Mander 

Recently three other rich bastards people have been allowed to put in helipads on their Herne Bay (near Westmere) properties with two more in the planning stages. Waiheke has about 50 private helipads, ferrying locals and visitors to and from homes and vineyards. Ex All Black Ali Williams and billionaire Anna Mowbray want to build their helipad on their $24 million peninsular home in Westmere.

This is arrogance in the extreme. The Mowbrays (Anna and her brothers) own a mansion in Coatesville which is about an hours drive from Westmere but, being rich can't be fucked driving there like the peasants do. No, she wants to fly there from home in about 10 minutes. She probably wants to fly to Waiheke for lunch as well. Helicopters are extremely noisy machines and the motor and rotor sounds and the downdrafts are very disruptive. No wonder the neighbours, in a bloody built up suburb for fucks sake, are up in arms about this. I hope that they win their case and that the greedy council, pandering to the whims of rich 'A' listers see some common sense and close all of the loopholes.

The other issue Mowbray talked about was the Herne Bay beach situation where  some rich bastards people are acting entitled.

A while ago, Auckland council decided to re-sand the beach at Herne Bay for the benefit of locals and visitors to be able to swim and sunbathe. The sand came from the beach at  Pakiri an hour or so north of Auckland (which also caused some issues), but what no one thought about was a different and unintended consequence: that all that extra sand on the beach potentially gives the homeowners with beachfront properties a windfall addition to their land.

.

Many Herne Bay (and other) coastal homeowners are allowed to claim, as part of their property, all the land down to what’s called the ‘Mean High Water Springs’ or MHWS. This is a measure based on the high water mark at the twice (lunar) monthly spring tide (also called a king tide), averaged over an 18.6 year tidal cycle. It can vary from year to year. It's  known as "riparian rights" – landowners whose title extends down to the water's edge, as measured by the mean high water springs mark.

But when the council put a whole lot of new sand on the beach this lifted the level of the beach by nearly a metre along the shoreline and 5 metres extra width, to “provide an all-tide dry beach for passive recreation” which was great for the general populace- the hoi polloi who had five more metres of dry sand all along the beach to sit on. Unfortunately though this meant that for beachfront homeowners – some of the more privileged Auckland property owners – the Mean High Water Springs mark is now further down the beach. So their properties now extend further onto the beach.

Initially this was just a paper-based windfall and nothing much changed for the public using the beach.
But now a  property developer  wants to build a boat shed on this new sand. What he describes in his application as a modest boat-shed is in fact to be a much more substantial building and will be the thin end of the wedge in regard to others following suit.  The beach created by the council for the public, using public funds will be just extra land for the homeowners to build on.

Herne Bay and other Auckland residents are protesting against this as well they might, as how much property and stuff do these rich bastards people want? Let's hope again that the Auckland Council shows some common sense unlike Robert and the Catholic Church.

Mind you, if the rich and entitled Aucklanders get their way with the increased use of helicopters and other carbon negative toys then global warming might claim back that beach.

A DAY IN THE LIFE

 This post was inspired by a post on Richard's bass Bag which you wouldn't have read:

FROM THE WILDERNESS

etc. (he does go on a bit).

***************************

Geoffrey (not his real name*) was woken by Shelley ** early in the morning.

Shelley **: Geoffrey*, Geoffrey*, wake up. I haven't heard from Albert*** for at least a day and I'm                         worried.

Geoffrey*: Wassssamattaupsh!

Shelley **: Wake up, I'm worried about Albert***.

Geoffrey*: Have you phoned him?

Shelley **: He doesn't have the phone connected.

Geoffrey*: Fuck! Have you tried his cell-phone?

Shelley **: He doesn't have a cellphone.

Geoffrey*: Fuck! Have you texted him?

Shelley **: What part of "he doesn't have a cellphone" don't you understand? Sheesh!

Geoffrey*: Watch the strong language Shelley**. Have you sent him an e-mail?

Shelley**: He doesn't have a computer. You know this.

Geoffrey*: Fuck! So Shelley** what do you want me to do about it?

Shelley**: You have to drive up there to check on him.

Geoffrey*: Fuck! It's a 200km round trip.

Shelley**: I know Geoffrey*, and I know that it'll take you several days but he's my brother and ...

Geoffrey*: ....and blood's thicker than water ...

Shelley**: No, he's a pain in the arse but it'll get you out of the house for a while. That bloody Czardas thing is driving me nuts ...

Geoffrey*: Watch the language Shell. OK, I'll go.

*******************

Geoffrey* set off on his drive up to Horowhenua humming  Czardas  as he went, oblivious to the huge line of frustrated traffic in his wake. "Dum, dum de duddly dum".

3 hours later he pulled in to Foxton where he met an old lady in the men's toilet (best not to ask). She said that she had no money so Geoffrey* took her to the supermarket and bought her a trolley full of groceries. She told him that she hadn't eaten for a while so Geoffrey* drove her home and cooked her a slap-up breakfast from the things that he'd bought for her. Grizelda**** said "What the fuck sonny! Are you trying to poison me? I'm a vegan".

"Fuck" said Geoffrey* and went back to the grocery store and bought a supply of food that had no meat, dairy, fish or flavour and cooked her up something resembling wallpaper paste. You'd think that she'd be pleased but she told him that she couldn't sleep because the bed hadn't been made for 10 years. Geoffrey* made her bed, tidied the house, cleaned the bathroom, mowed the lawn and did a few odd jobs around the place. Three hours later he waved goodbye to Grizelda**** promising to return with some cash.

At the money machine Geoffrey* got into an argument with an old dog. "Fucking old dog" he said and was overheard by it's owner Mr Mean Old Cunt***** who was in some sort of wheelchair.

"Don't talk to my dog like that Sonny-Jim" said Mr Mean Old Cunt*****. "I've had better men than you for breakfast".

Geoffrey* really wasn't listening as he was humming Czardas to himself and was only brought back to reality when Mr Mean Old Cunt***** whacked him on the back of his leg with his walking stick  saying:

"Without my walking stick, I'd go insane
I can't look my best I feel undressed without my cane.
Must have my walking stick 'cause it may rain
When it pours can't be outdoors without my cane.

Be-bop-bop-de-la-dum
Be-bop-a-da-bum
Re-bop-be-a
Rop-a-de-bop
Rump-a-de-dum
Ra-da-da-de."

This got Geoffrey*'s attention and, after pocketing the money from the machine for Grizelda**** he nervously walked off rubbing his leg.

After giving Grizelda**** the money, for which she complained that it was all in $50 notes and asked him why couldn't he get 10s and 20s like a normal person he drove off to Albert***'s house in Tangimoana, muttering to himself (the Czardas was forgotten and now he couldn't get that Leon Redbone song out of his head. "Fucking Leon Redbone" he muttered).

Albert*** was pleased to see Geoffrey* because he needed the roof repaired, a fence painted, the septic tank emptied and help to go to the toilet. "Bloody Shelley" Richard muttered but immediately felt sorry for saying that when Albert*** said even worse things.

Geoffrey* said goodbye to Albert*** and pretended to be deaf when Albert*** asked him to help him wipe his bum, cook him an omelette and dig a swimming pool in the back garden.

When Geoffrey* arrived home two days after he had left he complimented himself on making such good time on a long drive - 200 kms! "Be-bop-bop-de-la-dum, Be-bop-a-da-bum, Re-bop-be-a" he sang to himself. "Bloody Leon Redbone".

As he was about to turn in to Wallace's Grove****** he saw an elderly gent at the corner looking distressed. One wheel of his mobility aid was trapped in the gutter and he was in danger of falling over.

"Fuck him" said Geoffrey* as he drove quickly past, making sure to go through the big puddle and drenching the elderly guy.

* His real name is Richard.

** Shelley is her real name.

*** No one knows what Albert***'s real name is.

**** Grizelda is her real name

***** Not his real name but he was.

******Not its real name.

LONG AND WINDING ROAD

 I listened to Malcolm Turnbull being interviewed by Kathryn Ryan on Radio NZ this morning.

He has just released a book which I might seek out and read.

No doubt Robert has read (or at least looked at the picture on the front cover) of an earlier book about him:

I haven't followed Australian politics much but Turnbull impresses with his intelligence and level headed approach to the issues facing Australia.

MALCOLM TURNBULL

This is worth a listen. I recommend hearing his views on the media approach to truth  (between about 1600 and 1915).

LIKE SOME REHEATED FOOD, RECYCLED POSTS JUST GET BETTER

 I was going to write another pre-Christmas post but remembered this one that I wrote a couple of years ago that fits the bill.

Enjoy.

RECYCLED

QUICK - THE CLEANER'S COMING

 Years ago, in Auckland when we were both working long hours The Old Girl hired a house cleaner to come in for half a day each Thursday.

Wednesday evenings were always fraught because she would be running about dusting and cleaning and directing me to do other things like vacuuming and cleaning toilets. Why? Because the cleaner was coming in the morning. WTF!

.

This Christmas she has booked a garden service to come in on January 3 to rip out all the horrible plants, trees and weeds at the front of the section, landscape it and plant tidier native bushes. All good so far? Yes, but ....

.... most of yesterday and this morning she has been gardening  - "to get things in order and tidy for when the gardeners come."

Can anyone out there make sense of this? Not a woman because they're nuts.

NEW POST - THE MUSIC CURMUDGEON

 

YOU CAN GO BACK

SOME CHRISTMAS MUSINGS

 Robert isn't letting his catholic beliefs get in the way of his traditional pagan celebration of Christmas.

Why embrace austerity, charity and good will to strangers when you can indulge in fancy trinkets, baubles, wrapped up loot and lashings of food and drink?

"We are well into advent, of course, Christmas presents are under the tree. The lights are up. Fish burgers."

                                                              - Robert The Inappropriate Christian.

**********

BLUE CHRISTMAS - ELVIS

I like blueberries and often put them on my cereal for breakfast. They have been hellishly expensive this year reaching $14 for a small punnet in Countdown supermarkets. when shopping yesterday at Pak 'n' Save I saw them at $2.99 so bought three punnets. Yummy.

 *****************

I'm happy to have get rid of the rubbish in the trailer although my back is a bit stiff today.

Now that the trailer is empty again there is a temptation to fill it again with garden rubbish so gardening is on the agenda today. When I say 'on the agenda' I've got my minion on the job while I direct operations from the safety of the deck.

                                               *****************

We don't put up Christmas trees being non-pagans and don't have any Christmas decorations. Here's a pic of The Old Girl at one of her work's Christmas functions being a Christmas fairy* though.

Keeping with the 'Blue Christmas' theme.


*********************

 A Christmas joke.

 * The Curmudgeons Inc.ⓒ wishes to state that we are an all embracing organisation and intend no slurs on the LGBQT community in the use of the word 'fairy'.