I Was A Diving Duck

Listening to Pizzicato Five.

I am turning into Martin from Ever-Decreasing Circles.

Today is a Molesworth day I think, if only because I have been reminded about it by this story about Reginald Molehusband who my wife has often reminisced about. Maybe she knows where he is. So Chiz Chiz you weeds! This also makes me think that Mr Cheney could just as well have been on a Snipe hunt rather than a Quail hunt. As Molesworth was fond of saying, he’s so wet you could shoot Snipe of his back. So it’s only the Snipe Hunt that does not exist, ‘cos I’ve seen plenty of real Snipe. Oh link heaven!

Do you ever forget to finish a cup of tea or coffee? I’ve just found the remains of some de-caff on the desk here. Now I usually have some sort of stacked flag inside my head which only pops when the last dregs have been sunk but recently I have been noticing that I am starting to loose this faculty. Am I just getting old? Compared with my late teens, I am a lot more together regarding such things but I am wondering whether I have passed my peak. Wittering about the inside of one’s head is always good material for an online blog isn’t it? There is still so much to be done; it would be a shame to loose the ability to do it.

I did have loads of ideas for stuff for today but the tiny little holes in my head have put paid to that. My grey-matter is surely beginning to resemble a Sierpinski Gasket. Well it would if my brain was triangular but there you go.