Sunday and dad was doing DIY again this morning laying some flooring in the new office. It is tongue and groove flooring so it is alright until you get your left and right confused then it can go a bit wrong. The result was dad was swearing again and like last Sunday mum told him off and hit him with the armadillo toaster. It is his own fault for trying to get a Armadillo mosaic design in the middle of the floor.
Everyone else would be happy enough with just a plain simple floor but not dad he feels it should be as complex as possible otherwise he might as well go to IKEA and get flat pack rubbish, although as far as I can tell everyone one swears putting IKEA flat pack things together anyway. Mum and dad have to hold the fort again in the afternoon at Napoleon Beelzebub’s Very Strange Victorian Curiosity Shop. Mr Beelzebub keeps having to sort his paperwork out for the Middle East and says he really does wish the human race would make its mind up because both him and the one who must be obeyed (not by us humans as it happens) are getting well angry and a bit confused. Anyway they do this on Sundays so he is not able to be in the shop which is why mum and dad are helping, that all seems a bit long winded to make the point mum and dad were in the shop.
Me and the dog were exploring, we have given up on Count Gomery now and thought we would set our expectations at a more realistic level and hunt something more mundane. So we have decided on a mutant radio active forty foot man eating centipede, Pirate Pete thinks he saw one the other day just after he had drunk his third bottle of Jamaican Rum; made with his very own still hidden in the cellar. I don’t think I am meant to tell you about that so he might make me walk the plank again into the goldfish pond. AH. We didn’t find one I think the dog was quite pleased as he didn’t really fancy having a fight with a forty foot man eating centipede, I did say he is a dog not a man so he would be ok but he said IDIOT. By the way the forty foot man eating centipede is forty foot long, he does not have forty feet I would assume he has one hundred feet by his name.
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Fiona Knight I too have given up on Mount of Count Gomery as now there appears to be a Munt Gomery, oh I think the ancient literature has become somewhat distorted through out the years, it is like they were playing Chinese whispers when writing their books. I also went on an adventure earlier today, it was most exciting having a family meeting with a herd of cows whilst stranded on an island, fortunately the cows were very happy to just lick us with their sharp grabbing very long (almost forty foot) tongues. Later on I had an in depth conversation with a honey bee, who was convinced the printed flowers on my jacket were real....and now I just have to go and listen to the Blackbirds announce the 7 o clock news.....Sunny Sundays are fun.
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You do indeed seem to be able to communicate with bees Miss Fiona; I suspect because of your shaman Buddhist ways you are able to hum in bee. UM GOMERY HUM or something like that. Mum said I must behave. No sorry she said Bee Hive Hah AHhahhha Ha ha ha ha
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