Morning all.
Playing games. Occasional beer (but I have to fly home later and anyway it’s not great beer).
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Morning all
Construction of shopping list underway
Despite feeling boiled owl like with foggy brane
Bacon butties ready and loaves in oven
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Accurately though. 
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I am pleased to report that the wind, which has remained near gale ever since Brendan departed, has finally dropped. At last, I can get out for a walk.
Not that I want to, mind. But I can.
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… & ALL my oaths are “unladylike”.
Having been surprised many times by Dame Armrests oathing I can confirm most guys are nowhere near up to speed.
We have one series of combined cursing which we refer to as “hoover language” as it originated on the occasion that a full *hoover (*other vacuums are available) disgorged itself on the stairs. I’ve never heard such a combination. Highly impressive.
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Indeed they are not. I pride myself on my oathing which is, though I say so myself, exceptional.
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I’ve being sitting here wondering…
What would be a ladylike oath? I’m not sure I know any of those.
And now I am going for a walk, even though I don’t want to.
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I try to avoid oathing
Until I drop my stylus for my phone and cannot see where it went
Do stylii join biros through the wormhole that Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy mentioned?
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I have made strong men go pale by saying “oh dear” in just the right tone of voice.
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If needed I can deploy the language the girls plying their ahem trade round the docks in Belfast yonks ago
However a well toned “Goodness me what a fuss” can work wonders
When I worked on the Shankill I would be first into the pub fights as the presence of a woman in uniform was enough to cause a brief lull in proceedings so my colleagues could get in and seperate the combatants before things got restarted
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Oh Shucks Ma’am, I Mean Excuse Me
The greatest error ever erred
Is a nice girl with a naughty word.
For naughty words I hold no brief -
They fill my modest heart with grief -
But since it’s plainer every day
That naughty words are here to stay,
At least let’s send them back again
To where they come from, namely men.
For men, although to language prone,
Know when to leave the stuff alone;
The stevedore, before each damn,
Stops to consider where he am;
The lumberjack is careful, too,
Of what he says in front of who;
And if surrounded by the young,
The taxi driver curbs his tongue.
The reason men speak softly thus is
That circumstances alter cusses,
And naughty words scream out like sirens
When uttered in the wrong environs.
But maidens who restrict their hips
Place no such limits on their lips:
Once they have leaned a startling verb,
No tactful qualms their heads disturb.
They scatter adjectives hither and thence
Regardless of their audience,
And cannot hold a noun in trust
But have to out with it, or bust.
And that’s why men creep into crannies
When girls play cribbage with their grannies,
And nervous husbands develop hives
When ministers call upon their wives,
And fathers tie themselves in knots
When damsels stoop to caress their tots.
For who knows what may not be heard
From a nice girl with a naughty word?
One truth all womankind nonpluses
That circumstances alter cusses.
Ogden Nash (of course)
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There, I have walked. I think beer would be a suitable reward.
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Love it, Gus!
Orff to the flicks.
Soo xx
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[Pourity][pourity]
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Now now, that’s skilled work…
…or maybe not.
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Excellent verse Mr. Nash & Her Gussliness.
I am not inexperienced in the expletive nor easily thrown but 2 ladies I employed, both from Tamworth with accents that would prove Jess Phillips is faking it, cussed with such vigour and persistence that I had to ask them to reduce it.
I mean, to an average of no more than one per sentence didn’t seem like I was being difficult.
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The sweariest man I’ve ever met was an Australian judge, over 50% of whose words were profane.
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“How profane ?”
" … very".
At Uni I played football with a lad who was most profanity proficient. About every 50 times he’d stop, as if realising, & apologise to any women in the group. That was very odd. He was from Coventry. Maybe it’s a midlands thing.
He went on the be manager for Fun Boy Three & Bananarama. The last time we spoke, by phone, he was in the penthouse suite of a very swanky Manhattan hotel telling me about a show with “the boys” & “the girls”. “The girls” then came of the phone, high as kites, cooing and coaxing, telling me to come over & join them.
Now. If I had, it would have been Mrs. Armrest’s turn to be surprised !!
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Afternoon All
Apparently we are leaving earlier than first suggested, so I will talk to you next from Bristol
Porky Pie has been purchased
Also Bakewell Pudding
Carinthia.xx
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Sitting like Lady Muck being chauffeured to Bristol
Carinthia.xx
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