Today has mostly involved...

Vomit.

Bet you're glad you read that, huh?

The clocks have shifted forwards for summer here in NZ, which of course means that it has done nothing but chuck down with rain. Luckily, this inclement weather has enabled Jo & I to maintain our family tradition of hanging out washing only to have it dry, then get soaked by a downpour and spend 3 days on the line drying out again. But I digress.

The clocks having changed I was was forced awake this morning at 6am (though the clock claimed 7am). Ugh. It was not a welcome start to the week. In fact, I was feeling supremely knackered, which may have had something to do with spending the whole weekend furiously writing/running with dog/being hearty. AND to make it worse I was facing a day without "nanna afternoon" as Jo's mum was at the beach for the week.

Now, I refuse to let such triviality interfere with my overwhelming urge to collapse in a heap of bleurgh, so the household was sent into a tailspin of activity - baby stuff sorted, dog stuff sorted, wife stuff sorted - and all was loaded into the car and we headed north. We headed beachwards. Jo was dropped off at work and we drove on towards the sands of Raumati.

We made it there by 9.30am. By which point I was starving, so I ventured to this new-fangled "drive-through" and bought a flat white and a muffin. Of course, being the day before payday my card bounced, luckily we have savings for such drastic emergencies. Onwards we travelled to nanna's house. The baby had phase two of breakfast - rhubarb, pear & apple mash with muesli, and the dog had her breakfast. Except the dog wouldn't eat. Instead the dog made nasty gagging noises and was chivvied outside, returning with a spring in her step (and presumably less in her stomach).

oh but no.

An estimated 10 minutes later the dog did an impressive barf right in the middle of the lounge.

About 30 minutes later I popped downstairs to grab the Ben's blanket from the car only to discover a secondary barf. And then Ben hurled all over his clothes.

What did I do? I left Ben with his grandpa and headed to the beach with the dog.

I'll leave it there; no doubt I'll blog again later in the week when I'm "working".

Adios!

This made me laugh so hard I cried - I apologise in advance

From thedailymash.co.uk

ANGER AT EU BAN ON WANKY SHIT PUDDING
THERE was anger last night as European bureaucrats threatened to outlaw classic British puddings such as freckled ball bag and boiled arseholes.

A new Brussels directive will seek to end the UK's exemption from dirty cake name laws, leaving establishments advertising old-fashioned favourites, including wanky shit pudding, open to prosecution.

Cafe owner Eve Evans said: "It's political correctness gone mad. I raised my kids on things like wanky shit pudding, chocolate hard-ons and fuck-me-tarts, they're great British treats."

She added: "At the end of the day, a wanky shit pudding is basically a chocolate brownie with a blob of double cream on it. What do you think that looks like? Exactly - a shit that someone's done a wank on. It's plain common sense."

Cafe customer Tom Logan agreed: "Wanky shit pudding is bloody lovely and wanking and shitting are the most natural things in the world, likewise wanking onto a shit. And then eating it."

Tony Harrison's grandmother Jean Trump invented wanky shit pudding, and first published the recipe in her 1832 bestseller Mr Trump's Fucking Big Book of Tasty British Puddings.

He said: "She was the first person to reject the thinly-veiled euphemisms of the 18th century such as steamed whoopsie and raspberry tinkle and introduce more honest, down to earth names like chuff trifle and fanny battered figs.

"By all accounts she was an indomitable old bird who, I am quite sure, would have been horrified at the prospect of some dirty foreigners fiddling about with her fondant beaver."

Hello? Hello?

Is there anybody out there? Will anyone read this? Perhaps not, so I can WRITE WHATEVER I WANT!!!!

Except that I am too chicken, in case someone actually does read this and takes offence.

I promised myself last week that I would return to regular blogging on a weekly basis, starting Monday. Of course I didn't even slightly manage this, but I'm thinking Wednesday evening isn't too bad a compromise. And I'm trying desperately to think of something to write about.

Ummm...

Weirdly I think I may have lost the ability to spell correctly. You know how some people pick up accents when they move to foreign climes? Well I think I may have picked up shite awful command of the English language and grammar. I am not happy about it and will be delving into my enormous dictionary to resolve any qualms. Amongst other oddities is the fact that I had a new passport photo taken today. That, in itself is not so peculiar, but Jo and I are in agreement that the photo doesn't really resemble me. Normally a slightly dodgy photo leads to pleas for kindness and reassurance, this time I honestly wanted Jo to say "Jeez, that's a terrible photo, it doesn't look anything like you!". And she did. Thank god, if I did actually look like the mysterious pig-eyed fat-faced middle aged frump in the picture I would be very very unhappy.

Sorry, I've been away. The nicest thing just happened - a knock on the door and it was my friend Sam, who just dropped by to say hello and give me a bottle of wine. She was just on her way home and thought she'd do something lovely. Aren't people fabulous sometimes?

Anyway, expect more from me as I have the upcoming workload -
a new class starting
need to write study tour booklet
need to put together on-tour seminars
go on tour

Til next week...