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How do I love thee…
“Do you love me?” asked my wife. “Yes.” “Why?” “I don’t know. I just do.” “Not good enough.” “Okay. Because… you always know what I’m going to say next.” “Yes…?” “And because you cut the top off your boiled egg instead of peeling it.” “I knew you were going to say that.” “Don’t be clever. And because you’re clever. And because you think vitamin C, echinacea, acidophilus and pawpaw cream will cure everything, including smallpox and amputations.” “Go on…” “Because you take the chipped breakfast plate and give me the good one; because you always give me the biggest slice of everything and because if there’s only one left you…
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Open letter to J. D. Vance, vice president of America
This has been on my mind, but now I’ve got it on paper (on screen, actually) I can get on with other things. I needed to unload my thoughts. This is an open letter to J.D Vance, vice president of the USA. It probably won’t reach him. That’s okay; now I feel lighter: Dear Vice-President Vance, It’s clear you’re an intelligent person, but intelligence doesn’t necessarily make a person wise, or honest. Your well-documented resistance to the war in Iran is commendable, but your desperate attempt to shield Trump from total responsibility for the Republican shambles that was the mid-term elections seems to me to be both mendacious and duplicitous.…
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Going for the jugular
CONSIDER the jug. A handy vessel for carrying anything more than a mugful of coffee, or of tea, or more than a stubby of beer. Of anything really, so long as it pours. They’re not much use with bricks. But there’s the rub – so long as it pours. A jug is meant for pouring. It’s designed deliberately to enable the user to pour stuff. That’s why it has a little lip, fashioned especially for the purpose. So why does it never work? I have jugs big enough to hold a barrel of beer and small enough to hold a crocodile’s tears; I have fat jugs and thin jugs; jugs…
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Watch what you buy online
I’VE bought a watch. Online. It came in a cardboard box, which I shall turn into a cubby house for the grandchildren. There’s even room for a stable, for the pony. And I’m not talking about the ponies that come in a blister pack labelled ‘My Little Pony’; I’m talking about a real pony, that lives in a field and eats grass. What is going on with the packaging used by online companies? If ever I find myself homeless I shan’t worry. I’ll buy a cheap watch. It’ll come in a cardboard box so big that I’ll have a spare room for guests, a laundry, and separate toilet and shower…
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How can you tell you’re old?
I DIDN’T know I was old. My face has gone baggy, and my hair has sunk back through my scalp to reappear as wire in my eyebrows, ears and nose, but I don’t count any of that – I can still do more pull-ups than any of the 21 people in my family. But yes, I’m old. How? Why! It’s losing touch with the modern world that makes us old. I thought I’d signed up when I bought a mobile phone. But apparently you have to do more than just phone people and talk to them. So I learned to take photos, send texts (why do people laugh when I…
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Life, death and Telstra
Last week it was Centrelink; this week it’s Telstra. Surprising really, that they should find their way into this column, which is mostly dedicated to the lighter side of life. But three hours on the phone to Telstra saying the same things over and over, receiving the same worthless responses over and over, and then being sold a product I can’t use is funny, in a way. If you’re a masochist. I bought a Bigpond wireless package for my internet connection. I bought it from a person on the end of a phone. His name was Wal. He was very nice. It’s amazing how easy it is to talk to…