Wednesday already?

I don’t know what I have done with my tote brolly, but it’s not in my rucksack and consequently I write to you as a rather soggy customer gently steaming in the workplace. I might nip into M&S at lunchtime and acquire one of their “Jumberellas”, like the one I got for Furtle a while back. Essentially it an overgrown tote that expands to the proximate size of a golf umbrella, which means a) that it keeps you nice and dry and b) ordinary, puny brollies can’t get close enough to pose a threat to your eyes with their nasty, pointy little ribs.

I left poor Furtle in bed this morning, feeling sick. It seems that the transition from Dried Frog to Horse pills has not been a happy one for her stomach and there have been consequent prayers down the great porcelain telephone. Hopefully a lie in, extra rest and plenty of water will sort that out.

For myself, the insomnia seems to have passed – touch wood. A combination of staying off coffee (but not tea) in the evenings, ensuring that I drink more water before bed and sprinkling oil of lavender (dilly, dilly) on the pillow, seems to have done the trick. Of course now I am awoken by the need to pee at 3.30 in the morning, but that’s the trade off, I suppose, as you get older. Broken sleep or no sleep; I’ll take the former. At least you can doze off again afterwards.

My puny work ethic, weak-willed and consumptive as it usually is, is coughing up even more blood than usual in the corner of the office today. It seems unlikely, therefore, that it will be able to goad my conscience, which has already with remarkable sangfroid allowed me to perfect the art of the disguised skive.

There may be further posts as the day wears on.

Wednesday already?

I don’t know what I have done with my tote brolly, but it’s not in my rucksack and consequently I write to you as a rather soggy customer gently steaming in the workplace. I might nip into M&S at lunchtime and acquire one of their “Jumberellas”, like the one I got for Furtle a while back. Essentially it an overgrown tote that expands to the proximate size of a golf umbrella, which means a) that it keeps you nice and dry and b) ordinary, puny brollies can’t get close enough to pose a threat to your eyes with their nasty, pointy little ribs.

I left poor Furtle in bed this morning, feeling sick. It seems that the transition from Dried Frog to Horse pills has not been a happy one for her stomach and there have been consequent prayers down the great porcelain telephone. Hopefully a lie in, extra rest and plenty of water will sort that out.

For myself, the insomnia seems to have passed – touch wood. A combination of staying off coffee (but not tea) in the evenings, ensuring that I drink more water before bed and sprinkling oil of lavender (dilly, dilly) on the pillow, seems to have done the trick. Of course now I am awoken by the need to pee at 3.30 in the morning, but that’s the trade off, I suppose, as you get older. Broken sleep or no sleep; I’ll take the former. At least you can doze off again afterwards.

My puny work ethic, weak-willed and consumptive as it usually is, is coughing up even more blood than usual in the corner of the office today. It seems unlikely, therefore, that it will be able to goad my conscience, which has already with remarkable sangfroid allowed me to perfect the art of the disguised skive.

There may be further posts as the day wears on.

Is that a bat in your underwear or are you just pleased to see me?

It's traditional to have bats in the belfry, but I suppose it is the twenty-first century...

Teenager finds bat in her bra. I find it less surprising that the bat found its way into the bra for a nap than I do the fact that she managed to get dressed and go to work without noticing until it moved.


What's in your bra?

"It looked quite cosy and comfortable in there so it was quite rude of me to take it out.

Is that a bat in your underwear or are you just pleased to see me?

It's traditional to have bats in the belfry, but I suppose it is the twenty-first century...

Teenager finds bat in her bra. I find it less surprising that the bat found its way into the bra for a nap than I do the fact that she managed to get dressed and go to work without noticing until it moved.


What's in your bra?

"It looked quite cosy and comfortable in there so it was quite rude of me to take it out.

Aiee!

Ghost Girl is back, though today she is in a brown dress. Had she a head band, we would have that entire Hiawatha/Minnihaha thing going on around here. Luckily she has clumpy shoes on today and these have undermined her ability to merely shimmer Jeeves-like into existence behind me; I get clumpy warning.

The PDA appears to be the same, though. And she still doesn't speak, just takes notes...

Aiee!

Ghost Girl is back, though today she is in a brown dress. Had she a head band, we would have that entire Hiawatha/Minnihaha thing going on around here. Luckily she has clumpy shoes on today and these have undermined her ability to merely shimmer Jeeves-like into existence behind me; I get clumpy warning.

The PDA appears to be the same, though. And she still doesn't speak, just takes notes...

Round up of earlier writings

Right; boredom wins out!

Primarily for the edification of snorkelmaiden and telemeister (who, I think, has already read the earlier stuff).

There is actually very little Dimpler Towers stuff available – I have a little more that was written in the first person (parts 1-3) and which appeared on a blog I used to keep but which is now long since deleted. That blog was actually called Chad Dimpler: Election Analyst and was a place I tried for about 18 months or so to comment upon things happening in the news locally and globally. The joke goes back to the ‘dimpled chads’ in the US Presidential election of what, November 2000.

Anyway, a lot of that was written under the pseudonym and in time started collecting a supporting cast. I don’t propose to repost any of that because it weaves then current events with the antics of Chad Dimpler and his staff etc. I believe that mollpeartree may have seen some of it in its original setting by sheer chance.

I may re-edit and re-write some of it at some point, but Dimpler Towers has moved on in my mind at least. Chauncy Newage was far more the odd ball vicar in those days, and some of his parishioners thought he might be a closet pagan.

These days he is far more mainstream and his story will build (if build is the word) around a misunderstanding about precisely how High or Low Church he is, together with the vexed question of the fate of (the immobile) Great Uncle Archie’s bought and paid for pew, and the horror of the pink surplice.

Part 4 was never finished – I may return to it one day or it may be revisited as a later part, parts 5, 6, 7 and 7a are linked below. You have seen the latter two today and a couple of weeks ago.

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/428.html

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/746.html

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/48481.html

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/48681.html

Round up of earlier writings

Right; boredom wins out!

Primarily for the edification of snorkelmaiden and telemeister (who, I think, has already read the earlier stuff).

There is actually very little Dimpler Towers stuff available – I have a little more that was written in the first person (parts 1-3) and which appeared on a blog I used to keep but which is now long since deleted. That blog was actually called Chad Dimpler: Election Analyst and was a place I tried for about 18 months or so to comment upon things happening in the news locally and globally. The joke goes back to the ‘dimpled chads’ in the US Presidential election of what, November 2000.

Anyway, a lot of that was written under the pseudonym and in time started collecting a supporting cast. I don’t propose to repost any of that because it weaves then current events with the antics of Chad Dimpler and his staff etc. I believe that mollpeartree may have seen some of it in its original setting by sheer chance.

I may re-edit and re-write some of it at some point, but Dimpler Towers has moved on in my mind at least. Chauncy Newage was far more the odd ball vicar in those days, and some of his parishioners thought he might be a closet pagan.

These days he is far more mainstream and his story will build (if build is the word) around a misunderstanding about precisely how High or Low Church he is, together with the vexed question of the fate of (the immobile) Great Uncle Archie’s bought and paid for pew, and the horror of the pink surplice.

Part 4 was never finished – I may return to it one day or it may be revisited as a later part, parts 5, 6, 7 and 7a are linked below. You have seen the latter two today and a couple of weeks ago.

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/428.html

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/746.html

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/48481.html

http://community.livejournal.com/just_writing/48681.html