Spam

I must be one of the few people who actually likes spam. I like the names of the people who send the spam, like Florian Effenberger. How cool is that?

The other side effect of spam is that it makes you feel warm and wanted. You wake up each morning knowing that someone who writes to you in Cyrillic or Chinese script feels that you might want to learn their language so that you can communicate together. How cool is that?

Now that I get so little spam, I feel that maybe I should get out and make more friends (you can say that again - Ed).

Puzzled

I didn't realise that prince Charles and I have so much in common.

I send Jan to the kitchen each morning, before I get up, in sufficient time so that even with minor distractions, like walking the dogs, she has time to cook my breakfast to perfection. I thought this was normal but it looks like The Mail aren't so sure. (Words fail me - Ed)

Atonement

As part of my new health regime of slobbing out in front of the TV, we watched the film Atonement this afternoon. It was bloody complicated and at times difficult to know what the hell was going on. Jan said that the film was better than the book, which she had struggled to read. I thought that the film was overly complicated and bloody miserable. Jan reckons that I'm a philistine. She may well be right, but at least I'm a happy philistine!

Why can't I just say no

A definite downside to all the rain recently is a lack of general exercise (and an increase in slobbing in front of the television - Ed). So it was a welcome relief yesterday to get some tennis in. Having said that, Chris, Delphine and the lovely Scarlett popped round for aperos during the evening and, determined to undo all the morning's good work, Jan and I got stuck into a few bottles of our current favourite vino. Bum. We are so weak willed.

As we set off for the market this morning I was determined not to drink wine and only drink coffee. Fat chance really. Peter H dusted off his wallet and bought us all a big drink and then, after more sensible people had gone home to their loved ones, continued to have Jan and I in stitches with very funny tales of his in-laws. Thanks Peter, it was a good crack.

I don't care where you bought it

It rained again his morning so Jan decided to sort out our wardrobes. Sorting her's out is easy. Keep everything and just rearrange where it goes. She has clothes in her wardrobe that she hasn't worn for 3 years or more! My clothes, on the other hand, had to be 'tackled'.

After she had been sorting for 30 minutes she started to berate me with sentiments like, 'you have clothes that you didn't even know you had' and 'some stuff you haven't worn for years'. Words like pot, kettle and black sprung to mind but given that I was getting my clothes sorted out for free, I bit my tongue. I've certainly got a bit smarter over the years.

Out came the bags with all the winter stuff in, which were emptied, sorted and the clothes put away. These bags were then filled with all the summer gear. What a huge pile of clothes (I never knew I had). Given that I tend to wear the same thing every day for five days, it will take me 193 years before I get round to wearing the awful rust brown pullover that my mother bought me 3 years ago. Yippee.

Real Estate Downfall

Thanks to Craig for this.

Zut alors

And now the fun begins. Sorry Barack!

And he wonders why he's doomed

Having read this today from Gordon and his chums, I tried to play a little chess with Max this morning. Could I get the bloody dog to sit still or concentrate?

I honestly try never to discuss politics in this blog but some things just cry out for comment. For a laugh read this.

Gordon Brownose

Trying to get some of the feel good factor to rub off on himself, Gordon Brown was quoted as saying:

"I know Barack Obama (yeah - for all of ten minutes) and we share many values. We both have determination to show that government can act to help people fairly through these difficult times facing the global economy."

Sorry Gordy, but you're still going to get your arse fired!

And about time

Thank god it's over. This is funny.

A fish called Colin

I was chatting to Bryan this morning about the fish counter at our local Carrefour supermarket (see what life gets reduced to after three days of rain) and we agreed that it wasn't very good. We (Jan and I) like fish and would like to eat more but we have never got to grips with the fish that is generally available here in France. This led to me asking Bryan what the fish Lieu is. He didn't know.

So Jan and I were in Carrefour this afternoon and whilst passing the frozen fish cupboards Jan shouted, "look at this packet, Lieu is the same as Colin. I guess that must be Coley." Puzzzled I said, "Are you sure, I think there's a fish called Colin?" At which point Jan doubled up.

Anyway to confuse matters further when we got home we did some research and established that according to the packet in the supermarket, Lieu = Colin (in France) = Hake (in England) and Hake is known as Merlu (in France). Lieu Noir (in France) is known as Coley (in England) and Coley (in England) is also known as Pollock.

And to make matters worse, whilst researching an image for Pollock, I came across the rubbish above. Confused? My head hurts and I wish I'd never asked! At least there's some football on tv tonight!

A good end to a lousy weekend

The weather has been truly awful today with thunder, lightening and all that sort of stuff. At one point this afternoon it was so bad that there was no satellite signal for the television and, fearing a power cut which would bugger up the computer, I turned it off. Do you know what I had to do? I read. Yes, a book. Remember books?

Anyway, we eventually got a signal back and I was able to watch the final race of the F1 Championship. Apart from the first 110 minutes which was relatively boring, Lewis Hamilton, whom I have followed all year, won the world championship by one point in the final 20 seconds, on the final two bends of the final lap. Even Jan, not a natural F1 fan, was shouting and screaming. Good effort LH!

That's not what I meant

A woman in her fifties is at home happily jumping on her bed and squealing with delight. Her husband watches her for a while and asks, "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look? What's the matter ?"

The woman continues to bounce on the bed and says, "I don't care what you think. I just came from having a mammogram, and the doctor says that not only am I healthy, but I have the breasts of an 18 year-old."

The husband replies, "What did he say about your 55-year old arse?"

"We didn't talk about you," she replied.

Sweets for my sweets

The heavy rain yesterday meant that not many kids got out 'trick or treating' last night. We usually stock up with sweets for the little darlings, because I quite like the practice, especially for the little ones, but not one child came to the door last night. The sweets lie forlorn in the bowl by the front door and this of course means that somebody will have to eat them. I suppose, at a pinch, we could give them to the kids next door.