Sunday, 26 September 2010

Speak Roughly to your Little Boy . . . *

Hello dear ones!

It is Sunday and yours truly feels definitely en vertu de la météo due to an increasingly runny nose, stingy eyes and incredible sneezing fits! I  await the disparaging chorus of "Man Flu!" from the ladies in the room - although they of all people should be aware of just what a little soldier I am and how, despite my ailments I carry on regardless . . . I could be in my sick bed but here I sit, at my pc,  tissue in hand, gushing forth just for you!

Whether it's the weather or whether it's me I know not, but I have been very chilly today; I popped out at 5am with Sal for a tinkle and a trot and it was positively Siberian! I have more layers than poor old Per Gynt's favourite philosophical vegetable and still the cold creeps and seeps into my aching old bones . . . ah me!

I had a meeting planned at a god forsaken hour in Bury tomorrow which I am cancelling; I am probably rabidly infectious and don't want to wipe out the NHS in Bury in one fell swoop with one full sneeze . . . I am still expecting to drag what's left of my body around the corner from supper at Academia Towers to the Brocket to meet with S&A, though how long I will stay - in fact, how long they will want to have me near them - is up for grabs!

Between my blurred vision and  raucous sneezing I managed to see the Grand Prix which was,  sadly, less than exciting . . . the circuit looked not unlike an indoor Karting rink  and Lewis H obviously thought he was on the Dodgems - two races in a row that he has failed to finish by committing what other, less charitable folk, could term silly mistakes . . . So Alonso and Vettel  - who I cherish with less affection than Cannon and Ball - got a good 1 - 2 with Webber - who I am also less than fond of  but who drove very well indeed, gaining third, just pipping Buttons who was busy helping Cinders get ready for the Ball for most of the race!  Actually, to be fair I think Jenson drove very well also, with the odds against him.

Goodness me!  Sports reporting - whatever next? Is there no end (or even beginning) to this man's talents? A vexing question indeed, dear readers, and one I don't advise you to trouble yourselves with unduly; rather,  spend the evening in quiet contemplation and present 3000 words by the morn on my desk upon the subject of "The Inside of a Ping Pong Ball" - see? all those years at the Grammar school were not wasted after all! 

I notice by the sundial in my room that it is fast approaching my time of departure - not the final one I hope, rather my soiree at  les tours du monde universitaire . . . I do so like French - an interesting tongue, don't you think?

Anyhow, mes amis du blog

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

* "Speak roughly to your little boy and beat him when he sneezes
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases!"
Lewis Carroll

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