But soft, what Furtle through yonder dream speaks?

It's still Monday. I haven't gone to bed, so it's still Monday.

I see that the Sony Walkman is no more: it has passed on at the age of 31, of advanced technological old age. It is survived by its offspring, the Sony Walkman MP3.


The Sony Walkman 1979-2010

In other news: on turning in last night, I fumbled around in the dark in the bedroom, trying desperately not to fall on the bed and squash ellefurtle flat. As usual. Eventually, I staggered around to my side of the bed and located what seemed to be a corner of the duvet from the cosily snoozing heap that was herself. There was no actual sign apart from the piled up duvet and blankets that there was anyone actually there, you understand. Anyway, I climbed onto the bed and grabbed a morsel of duvet.

From somewhere in the depths there was a quiet grumble. I tried a bit harder and eventually extracted enough duvet/blanky combo to kip under. As I fluffed my pillow in anticipation of a night's rest, there was a barely audible mutter from under the rest of the covering.

It didn't sound angry or annoyed, so I countered with, "I'm sorry, Darling, I didn't catch that."

A little louder, this time, the plaintiff, "Don't let them sell my fur!"

I pondered for a moment and said, "Okay. I'll make sure it stays here."

"Okay. Thanks... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

What does tonight bring?

But soft, what Furtle through yonder dream speaks?

It's still Monday. I haven't gone to bed, so it's still Monday.

I see that the Sony Walkman is no more: it has passed on at the age of 31, of advanced technological old age. It is survived by its offspring, the Sony Walkman MP3.


The Sony Walkman 1979-2010

In other news: on turning in last night, I fumbled around in the dark in the bedroom, trying desperately not to fall on the bed and squash ellefurtle flat. As usual. Eventually, I staggered around to my side of the bed and located what seemed to be a corner of the duvet from the cosily snoozing heap that was herself. There was no actual sign apart from the piled up duvet and blankets that there was anyone actually there, you understand. Anyway, I climbed onto the bed and grabbed a morsel of duvet.

From somewhere in the depths there was a quiet grumble. I tried a bit harder and eventually extracted enough duvet/blanky combo to kip under. As I fluffed my pillow in anticipation of a night's rest, there was a barely audible mutter from under the rest of the covering.

It didn't sound angry or annoyed, so I countered with, "I'm sorry, Darling, I didn't catch that."

A little louder, this time, the plaintiff, "Don't let them sell my fur!"

I pondered for a moment and said, "Okay. I'll make sure it stays here."

"Okay. Thanks... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

What does tonight bring?

Scratch Card

The knuckle on my big toe is itching. I don’t know why, but it is itching and no matter what gyrations I try to scratch it inside my shoe, or how much I scrunch it with my other foot, it won’t stop.

Why are itches so much more annoying than aches or minor pains? Why are the buggers so hard to get rid of?

Why is my fecking toe itching?

Arghhhh!

Scratch Card

The knuckle on my big toe is itching. I don’t know why, but it is itching and no matter what gyrations I try to scratch it inside my shoe, or how much I scrunch it with my other foot, it won’t stop.

Why are itches so much more annoying than aches or minor pains? Why are the buggers so hard to get rid of?

Why is my fecking toe itching?

Arghhhh!