I need to test for this. The fun could be awesome
< ponders methodologies>
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I hope that it has been, Gus. I mean that most sincerely 
There were no mandarins in Tesco.
Any news, anyone?
Soo xx
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no woodlice & no fun
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Goodness, Gus. The only thing that kept me going on my supermarket non-sweep was the notion that you might have had a riotous time with woodlice and moggy. Pfffft. What shall we not do next?
Soo xx
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Not chant the Incantation for Summoning Mandarins, I should think.
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Very Wise.
I forwarded your suggestion for dealing with a blood-sucking manager to SiL. He liked it! Prolly too much…Not-doing izz not a concept I have explained to him. Oops.
Soo xx
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Oh dear, Soo: tell him to use an IKEA chairleg - harder to trace.
Meanwhile my spare room is full of muttering Chinese bureaucrats. And ducks. This is not going to end well. There’s a hairdryer in there. If I can keep them away from the honey, though, the ducks might just make it…
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Well, you’ve lost me there, my darling. But you may be glad of the peace!
I’ll not be suggesting IKEA azza cache of secret weapons to SiL, mind you…
Soo xx
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If you want properly crisp skin on yer Peking duck, dere Bee, arcane doings involving hairdryers + coathangers are part of the process…
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Ah, I’m with you, I think. Coathangers? Azzarule, I find them irritatingly clangy - Carinthia would tell you that this is because I have really shitey coathangers.
Soo xx
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The collective noun for coathangers is either a jangle or a tangle, and I am never sure which.
They are the larval stage of the supermarket trolley, which you must all have seen setting off to find a mate in season, and looking in all sorts of unlikely places like small rivers, city centre flowerbeds, and the tenfoots of Hull. When they do manage to find a compatible trolley of the right sex, the result is paperclips, which hatch eventually into teaspoons and immediately leave wherever they are in search of nourishment just as caterpillars do – that’s why you can never find a teaspoon when you look for one, and there are always fewer in the kitchen than there ought to be. Finally when they have garnered enough extra mass, they become wire coathangers. These can’t actually move of their own accord, but they are able to mimic movement very successfully; that is why they always manage to get caught round each other in an inextricable mass even when they have been hung on a rail two inches apart from each other.
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That’s fab, Fishers!
Soo xx
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Thank you!
We worked it all out in 1970, one evening in the bar at I think it was Langwith College but it might have been Derwent, in York University. We were not all strictly speaking stone cold sober at the time…
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Makes perfect sense to me! Hang on…
We are making a version of tonno fresco alla marinara, using tonno tinno. Prosecco has already been broached.
Soo xx
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Not to be confused with a tontine.
I hope.
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I forgot to say, one of us had found a shopping trolley trying to get in through the door from the garden of their shared student house earlier that day.
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Poor thing was probably hungry…
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Well, they should curb their appetites and save us all from clanging coathangers and Carinthia’s (gentle) disapproval. Sez I.
Soo xx
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Shitey Coathangers
Shudder
Carinthia.xx
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