Tough on mime, tough on the causes of mime.

Aren't melons heavy?

I hadn't appreciated just how much the buggers weigh. It's all that water, see. Water is heavy (not just heavy water), and so melons are heavy. It takes insight to understand these things. Insight plus a carrier bag.

I have just lugged a melon from South Cambridgeshire by public transport, having spent yesterday afternoon and all of today chez wallabok. Last night we played a Murder Mystery, and melon was on the menu. That's nothing to do with the plot, though the Bree was linked, the melon was purely incidental. Which may be why I got to inherit the melon, but no brie.

A good night was had by all, though I was a little concerned at one point for the well-being of mine host who, whilst laughing, turned a deeper shade of red than the wine in his glass.

Undoubted star of the weekend was Mr Fidler sans LJ, who played the insane Gestapo officer with monocle, Charlie Chaplain moustache and, for no readilly explainable reason, leather flying helmet and dinner jacket. A man, fanatically loyal to his Fuehrer, but mad as a spoon. A man who saw his Fuehrer as being too soft on mime artists.

And who can blame him; no-one deserves mime.

None of us worked out who the murderer was.

Tough on mime, tough on the causes of mime.

Aren't melons heavy?

I hadn't appreciated just how much the buggers weigh. It's all that water, see. Water is heavy (not just heavy water), and so melons are heavy. It takes insight to understand these things. Insight plus a carrier bag.

I have just lugged a melon from South Cambridgeshire by public transport, having spent yesterday afternoon and all of today chez wallabok. Last night we played a Murder Mystery, and melon was on the menu. That's nothing to do with the plot, though the Bree was linked, the melon was purely incidental. Which may be why I got to inherit the melon, but no brie.

A good night was had by all, though I was a little concerned at one point for the well-being of mine host who, whilst laughing, turned a deeper shade of red than the wine in his glass.

Undoubted star of the weekend was Mr Fidler sans LJ, who played the insane Gestapo officer with monocle, Charlie Chaplain moustache and, for no readilly explainable reason, leather flying helmet and dinner jacket. A man, fanatically loyal to his Fuehrer, but mad as a spoon. A man who saw his Fuehrer as being too soft on mime artists.

And who can blame him; no-one deserves mime.

None of us worked out who the murderer was.