For approximately thirty seconds during my viewing of the film 'Sahara' yesterday evening I was utterly convinced that I should become a specialist with the WHO...investigating outbreaks in remote parts of the world, fleeing dictators and searching for buried treasure (see previous posts for more examples of this transient lunacy). Thankfully the film was so bad I managed to dislodge this fanciful notion before it inspired me to do something really stupid...
Some people have posted comments regarding my earlier suggestion that people should name their children after themselves - boys after their fathers and daughters after their mothers. This, of course only applies to one son and one daughter - therefore you can still have 'variety'...I don't have anything against the concept of diversity.
As for those little comments about 'Jason II' and 'Jason IIa' - you're wrong. The first one's Jason, the second one's Zachary and the third (should I be so unfortunate) would be Michael. In case of contraception failure/if the poor wench I'm wed to doesn't like family planning, then the 4th would be called 'Rasputin' so I remember to book a vasectomy. As for daughters... What a ridiculously silly topic of conversation - there's little else to write about, though.
I have to choose a BSc for my fourth year - stumped. Not too sure.
Apparently May is the month of suicides (BBC article). The 'new' life and rebirth of the world, flowers blooming and birds chirping is too much to bear for the clinically depressed. Oh dear. That's inspired me towrite a short series...of nonsense...here goes...part 1.
Marion's cat wasn't very large and had a golden brown coat. Marion didn't really bother to give her pet a name - strictly it wasn't really her pet at all - one evening the feline had somehow padded its way in through her door, bounded onto her lap and had decided to follow her around ever since. Of course, Marion, being a kind soul didn't object to this intrusion into her intensely-guarded privacy. Having never kept anything before apart from a couple of pine-cones used as make-believe desktop-pets and a parakeet with lung disease that died a day before she signed the pet insurance forms, she didn't exactly know how to take care of a cat................
1 comment:
Rik’s vole was a far more intrusive creature, even though it usually kept to itself. The little rodent knew Marion, but tended to watch her from afar. Occasionally, if Marion dropped a particularly tempting morsel of cheese, the vole would run up to her only to nibble the cheese and run away again. This meant that the vole could provoke Marion without the risk of her interfering in its private daily habits. In spite of this irritating routine, Marion put up with the vole and sometimes seemed to be placing poorly hidden cheese around her house for the sole purpose of eliciting reactions from such nosy rodents.
Rik’s vole knew about Marion’s cat, even though Marion went through the charade of making the cat wear a disguise in public places. The voles suspected that nobody was fooled by the cat’s cape and mask and wondered if Marion and her cat would ever openly leave their house together.
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