Panning for Peppercorns and The Cupping of Hands

Hmm, this is a novel approach to publishing a link to the latest post

The reason for the link rather than the actual text, is that I have tried composing directly in blogger - and it loses my data from time to time, usually after a particularly good part, where something marvellous has come out from between my "jug" ears, and made its way onto the virtual page, only for it to disappear.

My favourite quote (well Bridget's - ed) , possibly during the Wavey Pay narrative was something along the lines of:

"Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go", (apparently some film or another that small girls are prone to sing at all hours of the morning - Right Tom! - ed), or as I call it, "It's Damn Parky Outside"

I have also tried writing via Chrome and signed into blogger that way - and that loses data too.

Well, possibly thanks to user error (damned human that I am - ed) or the dodgy Wifi on the train. Can get a connection in the mornings with no problem, as I live at the end of the line (sounds very like my life - ed), but in the evenings at Waterloo, it is very hit and miss (in the interests of fairness, Mr, Ms, perhaps M[a-z]* covers it - regex ed).

So I have composed the above post all  in Google Docs, and the only way to get that into here, as using cut and paste removes ALL OF THE FORMATTING - not that that bothers me (I have done some serious fuming in the National Theatre, my coffee bar of choice, and have set off the fire alarms on two occasions now, if I do it a third time I will be banned for life - ed).

But it did allow me to share a link - so hopefully the above will work.

I am sure that my world wide readership will let me know if it is inaccessible or maybe even mildly amusing.

It did make Bridget cry last night, I think it was  multiple hits from the Cupping of Hands part.

Wavey Pay and The Chocolate Shop

Now I have a particular problem (You are sooo right about that Mr. Collins - Dr ed)

Well, it is a real medical problem, but it is no way life threatening (damn it - black dog ed)

I  am allergic to cow's milk (any particular cow, perhaps Gertrude, down the end of the lane, or cows in general - need to know ed). This is not the whole anaphylaxsis kind of allergic, but the itchy, splitting skin, eczema type of allergy, as I said, it is an intolerance but at times damn intolerable. 

It only takes a minuscule amount of milk to cause my hands, in particular, to itch and split, and if I take a larger dose I end with my legs breaking out too (any time they can my legs make a break for the door, I am forever having do rugby tackles to stop them making a swift exit, stage right - arty ed)

This means that everything that I buy ..

(when I say I, not as in eye or "aye aye, captain" , but I as in me - I really mean Bridget - as having to go to the supermarket and buy stuff is at the bottom of the list of things that I want to do in life. Well, not in fact at the bottom of the list, as it fell off the bottom some time back, when I wasn't paying attention - anti-consumerist ed),

...that is not a basic unrefined, unprocessed product (eggs, vegetable, fruit, meat, fish etc) then the tiny list of words that spell out the products ingredients have to be examined in forensic detail.

Wearer of Spectacles

Being a wearer of spectacles (or as I was known at one of my many schools  - specky four-eyes - educational history ed) and my eye-sight having slowly degraded over the last ten years,

I am now in the position where I either have to hold the product, bottle, packet, at arms length, to be able to read it or right in my face and  looking over or under the lenses. 

Naturally, at arms length, the list of words are sometimes tooooo (with a side order of extra ooo - clarity ed) small to read.

I used to try at arms length first, then get frustrated and pull the product in closer,  "hrumphing", that I should be able to read it either way.

 (Please note: "Hrumphing", is a Level 3 event on the Frustration Scale - yet another post that is in the offing. 

To be fair I have started this one, but getting the granularity right, with the appropriate examples - kind of like the Beaufort scale, is quite tricky - life frustrration ed [Note the deliberate extra 'r", in frustration]) 

I say, "used to", as I managed to inadvertently catch a fellow shopper on the side of the head whilst stretching out my arm (Please note: no shoppers were harmed in the making of this blog - just the facts ma'am ed).

As a consequence, now I try to read the ingredients up close first and if that proves impossible, check all around me and then extend my arm slowly - looking both ways (just call me the green cross code shopper - old ad ed)

[Editorial Board of Control (EBC) here - we have advised our client to return to the main purpose of this post and have been assured that this will indeed happen shortly. This is a first warning]

I really don't think that that kind of threat is necessary. But I will admit I might have wandered a tiny bit.

Back to the milk problem

Now, I am not quite sure why this happened (intolerance to milk, please keep up - continuity ed). Though, I have many many suspicions, sadly none involving aliens. 

I believe it occurred in the late 90's, and before you say it, that was the late 1990's not the 1890's. (Damn it, not fast enough on the buzzer - university challenged ed [or do you mean universally challenged - sarky sub-ed])

But I did, and so I am now lactose intolerant (Not only lactose intolerant sonny, pretty much intolerant of everything - light the blue touch paper and retire to a safe distance - wind up ed)

What this means, for all intents and purposes, is I that no longer drink cow's milk or eat any products containing dairy. They are all dead to me (aw diddums - ed).

Sadly, for me at least, this means I have not had a Mars Bar, a Milky Way, a Marathon (it will never ever, ever, ever [add or subtract, "ever", as you see fit - sub ed] be called by that stupid name of Snickers - old fashioned names 'R Us ed) or many other types of confectionery from my youth,  since around 1999.

I occasionally yearn for this chocolate bar, or that chocolate bar, (mostly Caramac with a very strong cup of coffee, sigh, big sigh, really really big sigh, now move on - ed), but the cravings can be quickly extinguished by stuffing my face full of some dairy-free dark chocolate.

Dark Chocolate 

What, surely all dark chocolate is dairy free?

Well you would think so.

Not long back Cardbuys (surely you mean Cadburys - cads being the operative word - ed), took over Green and Black, who had been purveyors of some of the finest dark chocolate and in some dastardly and underhand fashion altered the formula to add skimmed milk. (To Dark Chocolate - What do they think they were doing [This is a level 4 Frustration Event - sub ed] - ed).

Naturally I campaigned against this, but to no avail, then upped the ante and staged a one man boycott of all Cadburys products (that'll teach 'em - hit 'em in the bottom line - economics ed).

It appeared to work, for in what seemed moments (around about 2 years in the real world, that is non-Davey time - ed) , the formula had been changed back! Green and Black chocolate was back on the menu. 

Sadly for them, a number of other rival, milk free Dark Chocolate products had become available (or simply looked for on the supermarket shelves, I knew there was a good reason to go shopping once in a while - pro-consumer ed) - and I have been chomping my way through them all in a very methodical and scientific fashion.

Eating dark chocolate in the name of science  - what's not to like!

Boys in Bristol

Back the the main narrative (again - ed)

I travel to Bristol on a regular basis, mainly to visit my two sons, this works out really well, as they happen to live in Bristol. 

I travel to London most week days, but never seem to meet them there, this is one of life's deeper and more confusing mysteries (This is ground control to Planet Earth, he's waffling in a most peculiar way - David Robert Jones RIP)

We generally meet up at Temple Meads rail station, built by Isambard Kingdom Brunel (who has a statue on the Victoria Embankment, which I have a recent photo of if you would like to see it - arts ed).

It is a magnificent building (strangely as I have aged, gracefully, with style, panache [now that sounds like my kind of chocolatey pudding - sub ed]  and an ebbing hairline  - I have come to pay more and more attention to architecture. 

I know why, but don't feel obliged to tell you, the reader, at this time - basically as it isn't funny - ed) 

In fact, I have a series of photos of the station (Are you really paying attention?  Bristol Temple Meads train station - ed) and a spectacular sunset with a dragon shaped cloud, which I shall not share with you unless you ask nicely. (...put link in here - photo ed - oops forgot to - ed)

Strangely, well not really, the boys appear to share a Collins family trait, in that if they arrive first (a rarity, but to be fair,  their punctuality has improved - punctuality ed) they will hide in wait and try and catch me unawares 

(I caught my, "unawares",  in my zipper once - darned painful it was, the worst part was that once I was caught, the only way out was to....  unzip. 

Takes rare courage to do the unzipping - but once you have been caught unawares once, you are very very careful not to let it happen again - hose ed)

Sounds like a major aside is coming down the track, "Toot toot!"

Hygiene Aside

I have informed the EBC (Editorial Board of Control - methinks they will need their own blog post at some stage - but not right now - ed), that I needed a slight aside at this point, as the zipper incident has brought a thoughtlet  mind. 

So, having now filled in the appropriate form and submitted it, with the usual £10 covering fee, this time in the form of a cheque (better not bounce sonny - debt collector ed), I have been  rewarded with a small waiver to allow me to wander off with permission. Result!

So, the zipper incident brought to mind something that I see on an all too regular basis and am totally confounded by (You, confounded? That is a rarity - know it all ed)

For those of a delicate disposition, I suggest you look away now, as the image I am about to conjure is a tad unpleasant, but it might be funny if you like that kind of thing.

Warning Start - you have been warned - faint of heart look away now

The little hygiene aside is about the capability of some men to be using their smart phones WITH BOTH HANDS whilst using a urinal.

I would say words fail me, but as seasoned readers (small shake of salt and pepper - cooking ed) you will know that that is very, very unlikely.

Now, I have always taken a two handed approach to using a urinal (generally, more of a holistic whole body approach, but that isn't important right now - film quotes ed), left hand to hoof the front of the trousers up whilst the zip if sought with the right hand.

Zippers, what are they good for? Huh!

Now you would think that that would not be difficult for a man of my abilities, culture and international standing

(I can say international, as I have readers world wide - one in Alaska, one in Germany (Hi Chris), one in Australia (Hi Esmerelda) - as you see I am on first name terms with all of them, except for the anonymous one in Alaska - circulation ed)

Where are we, aha, the newest pair of jeans.

I appear to have a new pair of jeans from Sainsbury's which has the tiniest possible zip (microscope and tweezers come as standard - ed). 

This zip, for some reason seems to like wedging itself back inside the jeans. This, as you might image, can cause a great deal of consternation, cursing and fumbling when desperate to relieve myself.

I can only guess, as they are not designer jeans, that who ever designed them, didn't give enough thought to the difficulty in finding and then using a zip to unrestrain ones manhood when under tight time pressure.

At my age, it appears I am always under severe time pressure - I do wonder whether it is a reduction in the size of my bladder or some kind of muscular waning, I really must do some research.

Back to the matter in hand, so to speak. The right hand is used to unzip to gain access to my underwear.

Major editorial aside

Hence the italics, brackets are left on to protect the reader...

 (Underwear, that'll be the trunks/boxers. 

I am not renowned for going commando, well not since the naked ironing incident.

 See I don't even have to explain what happened, as it is just obviously clear to one and all how dangerous that can be and the painful burning and scarring consequences that could ensue - safe to say, that incident has left an indelible, though highly amusing, mark on me. 

Life is a full time learning experience and it was really really was just the once - really really it was -  ed)

Reflection on Ironing

Since then, it has been the occasional semi-naked ironing (usually only upon special request or when Bridget needs a bit of cheering up, sometimes even when I need cheering up to add a little bit of  extra excitement and a well deserved adrenaline rush [much cheaper than drugs, and generally much safer - sub ed] - ed).

Why, "semi-naked",  I just wear a pinny (and that "oh, so", winning smile - admiration ed)  to protect my vitals. 

Sadly, even this has had to be curtailed, after we had a gaggle of people on the road,  looking in through the window, watching me iron.

I just thought they were admiring my exquisite ironing skills (poetry in motion - totally unbiased ed) - but when Bridget noticed the, Ironing Watchers (tm) , she seemed to be of the opinion that they were admiring my naked rear. 

I have no idea whether my naked rear is worth admiring,  but then again, I guess it takes all sorts.

Bridget now insists that the blinds are down. This is deeply upsetting, as ironing under non-natural light just isn't the same. 

The Return of the Hygiene Narrative

Am I back to the main narrative?

Nope.

I appear to be in the fully approved and paid for Hygiene Aside, (just how many asides deep am I?  I think I may have to be rescued by the EBC soon - lost in asides ed)

Once the great unzippering has been achieved we come to the next sticking point (there just has to be an innuendo there - in your end oh - ed)

This is the age old conundrum of whether you unfurl (* see note at end of post):

• by pulling the boxers down, so that you can pop out Over The Top (tm)
• or Access via the Y-Front (tm) of your trunks, assuming there is a Y-Front, (or once, when I had dressed in the dark there was a Y-Back, which for once eased the decision towards the Over The Top choice - ed). 
• the third and very rare choice is to unfurl down the side of one leg or other (or is that two choices - left or right? This is also tied up with the type of boxers - with the loose ones that I used to wear this was a very real option. However, modern boxers contain spandex, elastic and cupping areas to keep one in place and snuggled up warm and safe)

However, adding extra questions about the leg to be used, is too much for me to cope with, so I restrict myself to over the top or through the Y-front.

This is a choice faced multiple times a day (hourly, like clockwork - should drink less water - ed)  -  all this decision making is just so exhausting.

I do wonder at times (you do appear to wonder and wander at all times - ed) how I make it through the day?

(Simply breathe and wait, time will pass whether you wish it or not - guru ed) 

Going Over The Top

So, assuming we are taking the Over The Top (tm) action (See I can make swift decisions - decisiveness ed), then left hand is used to hold the trunks down, allowing access, so that the right hand can grasp and point.

Given that we are talking hoses (nudge nudge, wink wink - after all this is a family show - ed) and at this point, it is a hose under some pressure, it needs to be grasped firmly and pointed in the correct direction.

(Some wives may demur at this point as that does not match there understanding of the mess all over and around the toilet bowl post their husband using it - clean up after himself ed)

Now, we have all seen You Tube (tm) videos of Summer Time hi-jinks, with hoses snaking about spraying water over screaming kids and befuddled animals (or is that screaming animals and befuddled kids? - ed).

 

This happens because the hose is under a lot of pressure, and has not been fully grasped by one or more hands!

Note:  Isaac Newton, bless his little cotton socks, even has a Law for this, (like an In-Law but twice removed - ed) :  

Newton's Third Law: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Heading in the right direction

So, as the liquid (I am keeping this clean, it is a Hygiene Aside - ed) is directed, I keep a firm grasp of the hose. to ensure continuation of the flow in the correct direction, in case of a sudden change in rate of flow;  keeping the left hand thumb firmly in place, to hold the trunks firmly down and out of the way. 

So, both hands are in use and being put to very good use at that.

At no point during this activity do I feel the urge to let go of either the hose, or the trunks, 

Why, why, why would I ever do that. 

Why would anyone do that? 

Well, that is, apart from the whole yuk factor of what the bacteria count must be on the surface of the phone!

Perhaps, it is like people who ride bikes with no hands, simply proving that they can? 

Well, having experienced what happens when either one or indeed both hands are removed, I have decided that this is definitely a two handed activity.

Hand(s) Free Disasters

Now, you may ask yourself,

"Is he going to describe the disasters that have ensued when less than two hands are used?",

Well, given that would at some point I would like to finish this post (Whatever happened to the Chocolate Shop? I hear Esmerelda asking - well in my head at least - ed)), that'll be a yes.

How could I possibly fail to relate yet another series of disasters that have befallen me (seems your life is a set of continual disasters - ed)

So, if you like you can skip the next three sections describing each of the Disasters 1-3 (sad to say, I would like these to have happened my usual,  "Only the once", but life hasn't been that kind to me - ed)

What could happen to cause the removal of one, let alone two hands?

Well, unlike urinals, normal toilets have a seat and a lid, well most of the time. So, there have been occasions, when visiting friends, where they have that kind of seat and lid that are prone to instability.

It is really a case, of will it fall or won't if fall.

If it does fall, what action(s) should I take?

Below are the set of actions I have attempted to stop the worst case scenario of the seat and lid closing completely causing immediate Hose Anxiety (tm) and an Unwelcome Spray Effect (tm) to occur.

Disaster Scenario 1 - Removal of the left hand thumb

There are a number of potential consequences when the left hand is removed, elucidated below , with  assumptions and then the potential outcomes. I am a scientist at heart.

Assumption 1 A
The elasticity at the waist of the trunks is sufficient to quickly restrict the flow either totally (which is what you want) or partially.

Outcome 1A
If the hose restriction is only partial, a Chaotic Liquid Projection Event (tm) occurs.

Where the less than full stream of liquid will project in uncertain directions. Particularly messy. Not recommended.

Assumption 1 B

The elasticity of the waist is such as to simply point the hose in an upwards direction and has no effect on the flow. 

Outcome 1 B

This can cause a number of tragi-comic effects:

• at worst, a jet of liquid into the face (believe me this is icky and will make your eyes sting) or
• up the front of the trousers and shirt (not too bad considering) or
• a Manneken Pis event where the jet of liquid simply projects in a forwards direction showering all in its way (possibly the most messy outcome).

Assumption 1 C

The elasticity is such that the hose is folded neatly back into the trunks. 

Outcome 1 C

Surprisingly, this is one of the better outcomes!

This is because the power of the jet is curtailed and the jet stream is encapsulated. 

This means that what was a potentially unbridled spray turns into more of a wetting of the trunks and a stream of liquid running down the inside of the trunks and trousers. 

If you are wearing socks and shoes, this is a bonus. The socks help soak up the liquid, and the shoes are like mini buckets (yuk, squelch squelch - ed)

Note:  In all the above cases, the left hand is used to grasp the falling or fallen seat and lid and put them back into an upright mode. However, given the above, the most probable outcome, unless you have been applying my patented Hose Training Technique (tm), is an embarrassing mess. Friends can be very understanding, but even the best of them will have second thoughts about inviting you back.

Disaster Scenario 2 - Removal of the right hand's grasp of the hose

This is a particularly useful technique, in that it stops all the outcomes detailed above in Scenario 1. However, it, like many things in my life, has its own set of wonderful consequences.

Assumption 2 A
Liquid flow is maintained, as it was prior to the Combined Seat and Lid Closure Event (tm). This is a rare occurrence, as the anxiety exhibited due to the rapidity of the closure event tends to cause muscular constriction, but for the moment lets go with this assumption.

So, assuming that your body and leg positions are appropriate, and the hose and its stream of liquid  continue as they did before, whilst the right hand is used to hold up the seat and lid.

Outcome 2 A
However, and there is always a however,  as you get to the end of your task, the rate of flow drops off, thus causing you to have to re-adjust your position. This may or may not work.

One happy side-effect of this drop in rate of flow is that you may be able do use the  Slide and Grasp Technique (tm), whereby in one slick and well practised manoeuvre you switch the left hands grasp from the trunks to the hose.  This allows you to then direct the hose until all the liquid is emptied.

Assumption 2 B
There is a large fall of in the rate of flow due to the anxiety of the moment.

Outcome 2 B
This is also one of the better outcomes, in that, with the appropriate quick thinking and posture adoption (move those hips, and shake that booty - ed) the hose can be directed hands-free  (Please note: this is a low probability event - maths ed). 

Also, with prior strategic planning (that is having thought about all the scenarios in advance and thought through all the potential outcomes - planning ed), it is also possible to move around the toilet and moving to a one  legged stance (I favour my left), raise the right leg and jam the right knee under the falling  lid and seat, whilst bringing the right hand back to control the hose. The coordination, agility and speed  required for this means it should only be used by very talented practitioners.

Assumption 2 C
You are an incredibly talented man about town, with the ability to immediately constrict the flow of liquid to an absolute stop. Not a drip is spilled.

Outcome 2 C
It's all rosy given this assumption.

Once the flow is stopped and with a rare and poignant nonchalance you can let the seat and lid fall to the down position.

At this juncture there are a couple of further options that can be applied:

1. Thank your lucky stars, then lift the lid and sit down to finish the job
2. Rebalance the lid and seat and try again  (Do you feel lucky, punk - film quotes ed) 

On the probability front I would strongly suggest option 1. But if you are a cocksure  son-of-a-gun - go ahead try Option 2 and make my day.

Disaster Scenario 3 - Removal of both hands

Assumption 3 A
The first time that you come across a Combined Seat and Lid Closure Event (tm), this is the usual outcome.  The thought of, "This cannot be happening", will rush across your mind as you struggle with the correct action to take.

Outcome 3 A
It is generally the case of all hands to the pump, in a panicked and futile endeavour to stop the stream hitting the closing lid and spraying all and sundry with liquid (usually this is you and your friends bathroom - or soon to be ex-friends - ed).

The first time this occurs will be indelibly etched in the mind, across the floor and across your clothing.

On the Personal Disaster Scale (tm), it is right up there with the best of them. Maybe, at some future time I will flesh out the PDS for you, as you might find that amusing.

But I really must finish this post, as Amsterdam beckons in a tulippy kind of way.

Assumption 3 B
You have had this happen before and you are now a skilled no-handed practitioner.

Outcome 3 B
Using either hand, as both are invariably free, simply stop the seat and lid from closing and cutting off the safe exit route for the jet of liquid.

Warning End (about time - ed)

It is OK now, you can open your eyes and continue to read (hello, hello, is there anybody out there, is there anyone at home, or indeed anyone left reading this post - circulation ed)

A Bar of Chocolate

We are now getting back to the original point of this post... errm - what was it... something about a Chocolate Shop.

In St. Nicholas Market, in Bristol...

 (strangely I feel I have written this part at least twice before - Damned Google Blogger keeps losing my updates - and now it appears using Chrome directly to update this post has lost a particular poetical and wry dialogure about "A Bar of Chocolate", which I shall now have to recreate, unless I can find it on my laptop where the last update was done from. Frizzen, Razzing Dick Dastardly - where did my post go ed)

Sadly for me, the previous, perfect description of the chocolate box section of this post is lost. Sigh. Guess I will have to write it again.

A feeling of dejection has set in and as I sit on the train between Farnham and Aldershot I try and work out what to write... OK... getting back in the zone.

So, I had visited St. Nicholas market a number of times before I spotted the chocolate shop. Unlike many names of shops these days, its name is self-explanatory, "A Bar of Chocolate".

One could argue, (go on, go on, go on - cleaning woman ed, as I can't remember Father Ted's cleaning woman - I could use the internet to look it up I suppose - ed) that this is however, slightly if not totally misleading, because

• they have more than one bar of chocolate
• they sell non bars of chococlate - e.g. buttons among many others
• they sell liquid (hot) chocolate
• they sell chocolate with many different flavourings (Mrs Doyle - I remembered - trust me it came to me after stopping thinking about it. I didn't look it up on the internet - ed)
• they sell both dark and milk chocolate

So apart from these minor pedantic quibbles, the first time I was there I did ask, the rather attractive, young ladies behind the counter why the shop was not named, "All Things Chocolate", as that would be a more correct name. Sadly I just got blank stares. This seems to happen to me a lot when I venture into shops. It is most disconcerting.

I once went into a shop named Apple and asked for 2lbs of Braeburns and was also given totally blank stares, so you (well Davey in his la-la land - ed) get very cautious about what the sign above the door of the store actually means.

I really must start a movement Real Shop Names (tm) where the name of the shop indicates what it might sell. I am sure that I could get the EU to pass a directive if I had tens of millions pounds for all the bribery and corruption. I can but dream I suppose.

Anyhow, I feel we are getting to the crux of this post (as we already seemed to have passed the crutch of this post - poor joke ed).

The beauty of this shop is that it stocks a vast, enormous, large, massive, gigantic, ginormous range of dark chocolate that I can eat, and sadly an even larger collection of milk chocolate that I cannot

It was here that I discovered, Montezuma Chocolate, a British company, that makes lots of different dark chocolate. There was a huge selection.

So there was only one thing todo and that was buy one of each type of their differently flavoured dark chocolates.

I turned up at the counter laden with more bars than I can count (I can count up to ten - but unless I am wearing open toed sandals that is my maximum - fingers ed).

The, still attractive, girls at the counter were given A Winning Smile (tm), I do believe a shaft of light struck my teeth and I heard a, "Ting", but this might just be made up.

They summed up the price using some contraption or other and then said the immortal words, "Would you like to pay by contactless card".

No-one had ever asked me this before!.

 I was dumb struck, even lost for words (they had scattered on the floor along with the chocolate bars that had I knocked from the counter. I always find that when I use the winning smile and project an aura of sophistication and man of the world'ness something then trips me up and I end up looking the fool, sigh - reality check ed)

So once the chocolate bars were placed back on the counter. I said,

"How do I do that?"

The response was swift and clear, "Simply put your card next to this device"

"Aha", I said, "Wavey Pay!".

"Excuse me", said the still attractive and now perhaps even alluring sales assistant.

"I wave my card over the device and pay - Wavey Pay. I am sure that is what it is called?".

"Never heard it called that before", said the sales assistant.

"You've never met me before!", I said with perhaps too much enthusiasm.

I waved.

I paid.

"Where is my receipt?", I asked.

"You don't get one", was the reply.

"Eh?", I know all the words to use in difficult circumstances.

"But, how do I know that I have paid, and what it cost? I mean if anyone else had my card they could go about Bristol (other cities are available - city fairness ed) spending my money without either using a signature, or knowing my PIN?"

"That's progress, Sir", replied the now stunning sales assistant (I have heard it said that women get more attractive as they get older - these few minutes in that small chocolate shop was all the proof I needed to believe that - ed)

"Would you like a bag, Sir?", I said, "No, thank you, I have a rucksack and more important than that, I know how to use it".

The less than or equal to ten bars of Montezuma chocolate were placed firmly inside the rucksack and as I left I turned and said,

"I'll be back".

This is the case. I have been back, and have even shared the chocolate with Bridget and even with my work mates (generous to a fault that's me - with more fault and less generosity - ed)

So, sad to say we have come to the end of this ramble in the mind that make me who I am today.

Notes

*Unfurl

This does kind of infer that there is a certain length to the hose. In that, to be able to furl and hence unfurl, the length of the hose is somehow furlable (is that a real word - ed). 

However, I need to make it quite clear, that this is used simply to conjure up an image and may or may not have any relation whatsoever to my own personal and private furlability (you're just making up words - ed) 

Is that clear enough?

Whatever Happened to Anguish In Aberdeen (Pt 2/3)

Sadly, this has not yet been started.

But it is bubbling away, I may even have time to give it a few more headings to work out how much I need to write.

As you can see, even if I do that, tangents appear and diverse ideas spring to mind and before you know it I am off and going on Yet Another Aside (tm).

What I need is more focus and a better editor, and to get paid for all of this writing. I mean to say, I do have a full-time job that takes all of my time (no Davey, that is simply life - ed) 

But I shall do my best for you, my dear, dear reader.

There is an Amsterdam trip coming up, swiftly followed by a week in Italy, though there is also a week at home, post Italy, just chilling with Bridget and Esmerelda Blenkinsop (strangely she appears to be real - figment of the imagination ed) , where if I applied myself I could write full time... but I will need all that time to cover the Amsterdam and Italy trips - too much too write and not enough time to do it.