God's turban and tutu, but I need a dare of the hog!1

Tomorrow, by which I mean later today, I shall buy cheese.

A good, sentient Stilton, a reasonable slab of Stinking Bishop, a Cooleenie, and maybe a couple of others. This weekend is, you see, the annual GASPS² event. Once a year, six of us rent a cottage for a long weekend and descend upon it for food, board games and DVDs. In short, an early Christmas in lieu of the family infested thing that takes place at the end of December.

It's fun, and nothing but our livers suffer.

I have been tasked with squaring a circle on no budget, with no resources, and in a timescale that is probably impossible even with unlimited resources. I laughed merrily and delegated the job to my boss. I like to think that I have a grey cell or two, wrapped in cling film and bubble wrap and hidden in a secure box in my desk drawer against the day I need to do something clever. But even so armed, I shall never be that clever. Indeed, the best I can do is press my nose against the window panes of clever and leer until the people on the other side get frightened and call the police.

It's just not possible, and I am spending an appropriate amount of time ensuring that I have uttered a self-fulfilling prophecy.

To bed, now. Tomorrow the hunt for cheese begins in earnest.

¹ Sir Henry at Rawlinson End
² Gluttons against small portions.

I stand upright in my wheelbarrow and pretend I'm Boadicea

God's turban and tutu, but I need a dare of the hog!1

Tomorrow, by which I mean later today, I shall buy cheese.

A good, sentient Stilton, a reasonable slab of Stinking Bishop, a Cooleenie, and maybe a couple of others. This weekend is, you see, the annual GASPS² event. Once a year, six of us rent a cottage for a long weekend and descend upon it for food, board games and DVDs. In short, an early Christmas in lieu of the family infested thing that takes place at the end of December.

It's fun, and nothing but our livers suffer.

I have been tasked with squaring a circle on no budget, with no resources, and in a timescale that is probably impossible even with unlimited resources. I laughed merrily and delegated the job to my boss. I like to think that I have a grey cell or two, wrapped in cling film and bubble wrap and hidden in a secure box in my desk drawer against the day I need to do something clever. But even so armed, I shall never be that clever. Indeed, the best I can do is press my nose against the window panes of clever and leer until the people on the other side get frightened and call the police.

It's just not possible, and I am spending an appropriate amount of time ensuring that I have uttered a self-fulfilling prophecy.

To bed, now. Tomorrow the hunt for cheese begins in earnest.

¹ Sir Henry at Rawlinson End
² Gluttons against small portions.

I stand upright in my wheelbarrow and pretend I'm Boadicea