Wednesday 9:35 p.m.
Email to all staff on Tuesday just at jobbie's end: Tomorrow the computery things are bookable for every period except periods 4 and 5. Tomorrow is, of course, Friday. Only kidding. It's Wednesday. Hurrah!
The photies are of tattie beginnings, and the beginnings of goosegogs and cherries. The blossoms seem like only yesterday. I ate a goosegog yesterday. It was sour, but it was there on the 2nd of June. Till I ate it. I also ate a tottie wee tattie which I pulled up whilst weeding the onions.
She mentioned her large bosom twice inside the first five minutes of conversing with me. Where do you look, Jack? You look over her shoulder into the middle distance, Hotboy. She was wee, Jack, so I looked over her head. She was saying that the desired weight for someone her height was impossible due to the large bosom she had.
I was having the same problem myself so I could sympathise. After going two whole days and nights without anything other than the cannybliss yogurts, and having slayed the Nicotine Dragon once again, I was musing before getting up about having a few beers this evening...
I wasn't doing much running at all whilst at the diggings in April, but for the last three weeks or so Brian Wilson and moi have been running regularly. I've been running every day for the last five days. So I thought I might have trimmed down a little and maybe that would be another reason to allow myself some beers. Get out of bed and step on the scales for the first time in ages. What!
Are we back to having to fight Jack Dempsey, Hotboy? Might be able to make cruiserweight, Jack. Sometime soon. Fat basturn.
I've been running up Dundas Street - the five wee hills run - for nearly thirty years. The fastest I ever did it was 28 minutes. 33 or 34 minutes is also good. Tonight we ran it in 40 minutes, but that's because the auld fella I was running with is passed being able to keep track of the time. We took longer than 40 minutes. Dearie, dearie me. If I didn't have such a large bosom, I would have found running up the hills much easier, I'm sure.
She didn't call what she had a large bosom, Jack. Young women are really getting much more vulgar these days, don't you think?
The beer glass with tea in it sometimes looks like beer, but it isn't.
8 comments:
I say!
"The beer glass with tea in it sometimes looks like beer, but it isn't." - is that an ancient profound saying of a Rinpoche?
MM III
I say! If you're saying you sometimes run up the hill without the auld fella, that's surely a medical impossibility!
Never mind the blossoms, get a mobile phone photie of the bosom.
Never mind the blossoms, get a mobile phone photie of the bosom.
Mingon'! And Albert! It won't take this comment because it disny work. Hotboy
Okay, it does work. Are we all autistic? If someone is talking about their frontage in such an explicit manner, are you not supposed to look, and say: Yes, I could understand how this could be a problem. Hmmm? Is it autistic to look away? Nobody understands what anybody is saying. Of course, the josephine is autistic which is why she talks like that. I think I require some advice with this one. Hotboy
I'd call the polis straight away, if I were you. I hear giving up the nicotine makes one cranky, but I wouldn't know about that.
Ion! It wasn't a schoolgirl. I'm a bit like Shroedinger's (?) cat. You have to look in the box these days to see if I'm smoking or not. Or smoking and not smoking simultaneously. Hotboy p.s. She was inside the glass box. I assume she means no harm. What would you think?
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