After the Issue of the Meerkats (see the Daily Blog of four days ago) I am worrying that perhaps I have started to repeat myself.
I like to think I have an endless supply of funny (or not so funny) stories with which to regale my readers – but could it be that my favourite Tall Tales have turned up more than once in the Daily Blog? You would tell me, wouldn’t
you? Though I suspect you’d be too kind. I remember my dear Grandad had two jokes which he told us over and over again. One was about how whenever you ate marmalade, steam came out of your ears. The other concerned the coal man. I’ll tell you about
it sometime when I think you are up to it. The thing is, however many times Grandad told us the same old jokes, we always laughed. Even though it was years before I understood the coal man joke.
Some bloggers, I understand, write out a proper schedule to ensure they keep their blogs fresh and avoid repetition. There’s even an app devoted to the purpose. So much more organised than me. One day I will work out
what an app is. And why.
Inevitably I do write about the same people. They are the ones my life revolves around. But is there, perhaps, too much about my adventures at the health club, my struggles
with cribbage and short mat bowls, my attempts to keep in tune as I sing along with the choir, and, of course the on-going dialogue with Mr B which punctuates my life?
Mr B suspects that whenever I introduce some new activity into our already busy lives, it’s with one eye on fresh material for the Daily Blog. How can he say that? And, moreover, how did he guess...?
Some days I do wonder what on earth I will find to blog about. Like today. We did go for a walk, Mr B and I, because we were both agreed that we “had to get out of the house.” For once we didn’t head
to the promenade because we knew that (i) the sea breeze would be really, really bitter cold (we are cowards like that) and (ii) we wouldn’t be able to get out of the wind by calling in at the Sea Lane Cafe because we have booked a table at our favourite
Indian restaurant tonight. Even for us, two meals out in a single day is a step too far. Unless we are on holiday, of course. When anything goes.
we took a walk around the block, looking for snowdrops in other people’s gardens. Well, to be truthful, I looked for snowdrops. Mr B was more interested in seeing which houses had cable tv lines leading from the pavement and how exposed those cables
were. Our conversation was, as a result, a little disjointed:
“Look, how lovely!”
“Anyone could just take a set of
pliers to them....”
“They look so brave, with their little heads bobbing in the breeze...”
“I just can’t understand
why anyone would leave them there, like that, asking for trouble...”
“Whatever the weather, there they are...”
“I always think they’re kind of virginal – don’t you?”
“Yes, probably Virgin,”
Back home and there’s a text from my Darling Daughter-in-Law, who tells me that young Sam has won the class cup. Except that it isn’t a
cup, it’s Pugsy Bear. He can keep the Class Pugsy Bear Cup for two whole weeks and he is so proud of himself that he is going to ring and tell me all about it. I am hoping he rings before we head out to the restaurant – Mr B prefers
to eat early. Apart from being really proud of Sam for winning Pugsy Bear, it will give me something new and fresh to write about in today’s blog. Something you haven’t heard before.
Except that, amazingly, I have somehow already wittered my way through nearly 700 words of Nothing At All. The Tale of Pugsy Bear can be stored up for tomorrow....