gtd

gtd, originally uploaded by Joker the Lurcher.

the other night the peeps were lying in bed reading. herself was a bit hacked off with her book. himself said "well, why don't you get another one?" "i can't afford to take them back to the library" she said.

it turns out that the library project has been a dismal failure. herself started the new year with a lot of plans about how to make life perfect, or at least less imperfect. one was to get the family finances sorted out. this involved stopping spending money. so she went to the library to avoid buying books. it is not altogether clear to me how she fails to remember previous excursions to the library, one of which involved posting the books through the lettterbox when it was closed to avoid payingthe huge fines she had run up.

recently a letter arrived. it said that herself had run up over £20 worth of fines. himself was not impressed. "you could buy 20 detective novels from amazon for that!" he cried. "you are pathologically programmed to spend money!"

herself decided she needed to get her life in order. diarising deadlines would be the answer. by chance the very next day sergeant goose came up with the solution. "its called getting things done" he said"you just need a couple of notebooks and all of a sudden you have your life back".

i am not sure herself altogether got the point of this. she was straight on the internet buying the book about how to get your life in order. then she spent hours surfing the net about time management (which it appears is all about how to save time). she told himself what it was all about. "basically if you can do it in 2 minutes you do it straight away and don't procrastinate" she said. i am not sure how this differs from her normal approach to life, except for the 2 minute limit. she usually does things straight away regardless of how long they might take.

the following morning i was rather alarmed to be pulled out of bed at 6.30am. it seemed i had to be groomed. i had not even folded up my pyjamas (that is a joke, dear readers, we lurchers cannot get pyjamas to fit us so we have to sleep in the altogether). it seems that, as she could groom me in under 2 minutes, it had to be done immediately. a rather sudden start to the day, as i am sure you can imagine.

himself was mightily concerned. "that sergeant goose has no idea what he has unleashed!" he said.

but i am much less itchy, so it can't be all bad...

pubs

the simmish arms, originally uploaded by Joker the Lurcher.

my boy is a great believer in striking while the iron is hot. this is a saying which means he does not do waiting. (i have to explain sayings as beefburger people sometimes find them a bit alarming - just think about "toasting the bride" if you didn't know it was a saying...) anyway, my boy was watching a programme on the telly called "britain's toughest pubs". this is a rather scary series where very tough looking men with shaved heads talk quietly about "sorting out a bit of bovver".

no sooner had it finished than my boy was on his computer designing a pub. it is called the simmish arms. it is rather scruffy and at the back is a purpose built alleyway. "this is so people can go round the back and beat each other up" said my boy, in what seemed an overly matter-of-fact way. the toilets in the simmish arms are decidedly seedy with a rather horrible urinal.

so i was rather alarmed when the peeps announced that they were going to a pub in brighton. they are not very good at going on dates. usually they wander aimlessly round supermarkets so it was very encouraging that they actually were going out to meet some people. my boy's sitter was coming and the peeps had been invited to a birthday drink with one of the police people from herself's team. this person is called qt. (you have to say it out loud to get the effect - although how a stab vest could make anyone look cute is beyond me - they have had to think up nicknames for everyone as they have too many people with the same name).

i spent the whole evening worrying that they would get taken outside and beaten up in an alley. i suppose with so many police people there it was less likely but i'm a bit of a worrier when i can't keep an eye on them. no-one would touch them with me around - i have some rather fine teeth.

anyway they came back safe and sound having had a lovely time. herself had taken some rather odd photos. qt is rather camera shy so there are some fine shots of elbows and shoulders. and some nice ones of a lady with a nickname that is something to do with yorkshire puddings and her girlfriend. none of herself though. herself is not even slightly photogenic and insists that she inflates like a bullfrog when faced with a camera. i may have to adopt sneaky tactics in order to capture a shot of her...

mac 0

the comet seekers, originally uploaded by Joker the Lurcher.

the other night my boy and herself were sitting under the quilt watching a dvd on the laptop. it had come free with the paper and herself's very kind friend had purchased an extra copy because herself cannot be relied on to remember this sort of thing. the dvd was about pilates. this is not said how you would think. it is nothing to do with flying planes. it is said like karate, which is a thing like taekwondo. i will not go on about taekwondo, save to mention that herself would not have snapped her achilles tendon a couple of years ago if she had taken up knitting instead of taewkwondo.

anyway, herself and mrs captain are taking up pilates. this is part of a plan to look after themselves better. pilates is apparantly a bit like yoga but is particularly good for an aching back. which is why herself and mrs captain are taking it up. my boy was laughing at the pilates lady, who he said looked like a bug having sex, in her shiny tight outfit (my boy is used to round ladies in stretchy clothes).

the phone rang and it was mrs captain, who knows a lot about the skies. she said a comet was going past the earth. i always thought comets were where you bought things like fridges but what would i know? anyway, a plan was hatched. the following day, at the time the comet would be passing, mrs captain and herself would go and watch it. herself would take pictures and mrs captain would look at it through her telescope.

i was rather surprised to be invited on the comet-watching expedition. i tend not to be allowed up on the downs after dark because of my poaching tendencies. but herself had thought of that. after a short run off the lead i was put back on it, rather unfairly, i thought. we trekked up to a high place, together with herself and camera, mrs captain and the telescope and the wild girl and my boy's friend. my boy had not yet got home but the plan was that if a comet was around we would phone himself who would bring my boy up to see it when he got in.

anyway, there as a wild wind blowing and the trees were doing yoga. we finally came to rest at the top by which time it was pretty much dark. there was much tripod erecting. then mrs captain said some choice words (that is a polite way of saying swore, for my sensitive readers) because she had dropped a bolt from the telescope in the mud. in spite of looking with a torch and also taking flash photos and searching for the bolt in them in the camera screen, no bolt appeared. so a rock was placed in the spot so they could come back in daylight to find it. the telescope still worked in a slightly more wobbly fashion so it was action stations to look for the comet.

at this point my boy's friend and the wild girl started to get cold so i was forced to humour the young folks and run up and down with them (do not forget , dear readers, that i was confined to the lead on account of the deer and the rabbits. this human rights nonsense has got out of hand when it is applied to deer and rabbits, in my humble opinion). the sky gradually clouded over and it became quite obvious that a comet would have to be something of an exhibitionist to be seen at all.

so the decision was made to abandon the scheme and head for home. much tripod dismantling followed. then we had to trudge in the dark through a band of trees which seem to grow in mud. herself was worried the torch might remind me of my poaching days and that i would shoot off with her in tow but i managed to contain myself. to tell the truth i was rather tired after all the running and was looking forward to my warm bed.

so there are no photos of the comet. the only photos are of the comet-watchers. and the title of my post? well the comet is called mcnaught. geddit?

mornings

mornings, originally uploaded by Joker the Lurcher.

regular readers will know what mornings are like in our house. herself was reminiscing recently about occasions when my boy had to be carried kicking and screaming out of the house in a horizontal manner, clutching at the doorpost and having to have his fingers peeled off. it is a wonder the neighbours did not call the police.

nowadays things are much better. herself wakes my boy up at 7. he gets up and into the shower and then spends a happy time steaming the house up. he is not know for his ability to focus, especially with hot water drumming on his head which sends him into a trance, so herself periodically comes in and reminds him which bit he is meant to be washing. she knows when he has been in too long as the windows round the house gradually steam up. when the steam has reached the peeps bedroom (which is the other end of the house) my boy will be looking like a prune and will need extracting.

since he has been going to school in the taxi, my boy has been ready on time. he loves his taxi ride. the other passengers are also beefburger people. one has a particular interest in plants and trees. he points out every tree of interest on the route, every single day. my boy does a good impression of the tree fanatic. "look dave, its the wellingtonia, dave, dave, its the wellingtonia!" and so on. they also play the same cd of football songs every day. to be honest dave the taxi driver must be a saint. we have the same cd at home and if i have to listen to "football's coming home" ever again i will howl.

this morning, my boy announced at 7.45 "dave said he will be here at 5 to 8 today". this threw them into a bit of a spin as my boy was part of the way through his toast and hadn't had his meds, or done his teeth or anything. "why didn't you mention it earlier?" asked herself, through gritted teeth. "well, it only reminded me when i was eating my breakfast."

there followed a flurry of activity on the part of the peeps, while my boy slowly munched his toast in a contemplative way. "there's something i don't get" he said, "just what is the point of bio-terrorism?"

beefburger people have no sense of urgency...

uh-oh

today was the first day back at school for my boy. yesterday was the start of term but apparently the school had an insect day. this seems to be when the insects go to school instead of the children. not altogether sure why but there you are, that's the national curriculum for you. herself is off work with a hacking cough and a sore throat, which has appreciably reduced her volume. so she was there to welcome my boy when he got home.

"how was your day?" she enquired. "very good", said my boy, "we had to do a story about our christmas." "and what was your story about?" she asked. "well, mine was called 'my christmas' and had the subtitle 'fun with my psychotic family'."

"i see," said herself, starting to sound a bit worried, "so how did it go?" "well, i told them about how the smoke alarm went off and how daddy was flapping at it with a towel and f-ing and blinding and how you were saying why couldn't we just have christmas like a normal family without you ending up crying like every other day." leaving aside the fact that the peeps went round the corner for christmas lunch (so there were no conflagrations on christmas day itself) this was a fairly accurate account of proceedings over the festive season.

"so what did they say?" asked herself, nervously. the peeps are great ones for pretending to be sensible to the teachers, regardless of evidence to the contrary. "oh," said my boy, "they just said, owen, that's what everyone's christmas is like!"

well, that's ok then. so long as it isn't just us...