This made sense to me.

 

Hi, just a short post today because I've been busy. I'm getting the household chores done now. No music practice done yet and it's quite hot in Nuova Lazio.

I hope you're all getting your practice done. I'm sure Mark Twain would have.

Ciao tutti. Ci vediamo dopo.

Tom Peace Lily's story.

 

"Hi, my name's Tom. I grew up in a gardening centre in Lower Hutt. My family are the Peace Lilys. We don't use the plural form of 'lilies' because our surname is Peace Lily and doesn't need to be changed when one is talking about family members. We are descended from the Lilium Genus of plants.  

I was very pleased when I realised that I was destined to be an indoor plant. Hey, there's nothing wrong with a safe environment and regular watering. I thought that I wouldn't mind being in a bedroom, but I'd prefer a living room or a dining room.

People often wonder whether plants have senses. Well, of course we do! We react to the sun, rain and cold, things in the air, smells, even sounds. Other siblings have communicated that it can be a lot of fun in a living room or a dining room. I was full of anticipation. 

Then it happened. What crap! A nice lady purchased me and I enjoyed a journey in a car, before being carried inside and put on a shelf that had obviously been kept clear especially for me. I felt special!

Then it happened. I was aware of a person in the room. Just one person - no talking, but there were weird sounds. There was a sound like something rolling. Then I thought I heard a waterfall and the air suddenly became very misty. Yucky stuff with quite a pleasant smell, I must admit, was showering me and landing all over my leaves. I felt sticky and sick. I couldn't breathe. The next thing I was all alone again. This 'one person entering the room' thing went on for quite a few days before I realised exactly what was going on and where I actually was.

"A picture tells a thousand words."

A bloody toilet!

Was this plant Hell that I found myself in? What had I done to deserve this? I had always tried to be a pleasant plant. I tried to uphold the reputation of the Peace Lilys. Now I was condemned to life in a shithouse. Suddenly outside seemed very inviting.

My name is Tom Peace Lilly and I spend my life right next to a toilet. Spare a thought for me, humans, next time nature calls."

Breaking news: The Curmudgeon is in Wellington!

 

 "A sharp wit, a finger on the pulse of things and a successful blogger." said The Sydney Morning Herald. "A man for all seasons!" proclaimed The New York Times. "Someone to look up to." advised The London Times.

Okay, these papers were all talking about different people, but well read popular the blogger known as The Curmudgeon is in Wellington - the city where he has his biggest reader base (2).

Today he will attend a luncheon with very popular blogger Richard (of RBB). No doubt there will be much discussion about blogging styles and The Curmudgeon did say that he was here to learn from a guy who had taken Richard's Bass Bag* to dizzy heights.

There has been discussion about his treatment of The Wine Guy, but it is a good sign to see that TC's old right hand man has been left in charge while he is away.

The Wine Guy

Though he'll only be taking care of comments.

We are advised that the luncheon venue has been instructed to make sure that all red wine bottles are warm and that any Cleanskin bottles have been left out the back.

Robert the quite a few different things was unavailable for comment this morning because he has a Presbyterian church to clean and check in the cupboards, and he is also on duty at the Catholic church shop.

* the original bass bagging site

The plight of The Wine Guy.

 

The Wine Guy has an empathy with Prince Harry, for he also has become a 'spare'. We invited The Wine Guy onto Richard's Bass Bag* to speak for himself.

"Yeah, that picture of me sums it up, how I went from a distinguished wine writer to a piss head. I was one of the first writers to be used by The Curmudgeon Inc. and I was their go to man. They even put me in charge of The Curmudgeon Express. Man, was I busy! 

I wrote about all sorts of wines because I have a huge experience to call on. I wrote about many things. Ha! There was even a time when I was in a bar waiting for a glass of wine, that I had carefully chosen, and this pregnant waitress gave me a beer! I guess I've seen and done it all. 

The Wine Guy in earlier days.

Then suddenly I start to get called less often. I start to notice a pattern. I get these phone calls, "Hi The Wine Guy, it's TC here. Look, I've been kicked out of the office again and we need to make some comments on a couple of blogs. Can you take care of these?" "Hi The Wine Guy. It's me. Look, I'm on a plane to Wellington with The Old Girl. She won't let me go onto the blogs. I'm trusting you to make a few comments on the usual blogs. It's important that we keep up a presence. I don't care what you say, just do it." "Hi The Wine Guy. I'm out of the office again. Just bang out some comments on those two blogs. Oh, and read Robert's latest. It's all about some guy called Brent Horn, or something like that. Don't go on about booze, just be a bit cynical. Try to think like me. Good boy!"

That 'Good boy!' bit really got me. Does he think I'm his dog? Next he'll want me to write about Cleanskins!

I'm just really over being treated like this! Look, I have an extensive knowledge of wine and my posts were pretty popular, even you guys on this blog read some of them. If you have any vacancies at Richard's Bass Bag* I'd be keen to step in. I could share some inside knowledge about The Curmudgeon with you. For instance, did you know that, as a youngster, he used to steal hosts from his school's chapel? I'm pretty sure too that it was him who got caught looking up some girl's skirt at primary school. Dirty little bugger. 

Hey, thanks for this chance to vent my spleen. Sheesh! Actually, it was me who first used that Sheesh! word, not him! Remember that I'm available if you decide to add a wine writer to your team. I'm already planning a post on the three things that can go wrong with a bottle of white wine. It'll be a cracker!"

* the original bass bagging site

JUST IN CASE YOU ARE SICK OF CRAP POSTS FROM TC

 We'll all get a welcome break from TC's posts for a few days because he is heading to Wellington to see a show, or something. He's bringing The Old Girl or, more precisely, she's bringing him. Shelley and I are meeting them for lunch on Sunday. I've booked a table at McDonald's for two reasons:

1. TC didn't want a poncy place and
2. I'm sure they won't have chilled red wine at McDonald's.* 

See how I put the possessive apostrophe into the name McDonald's? That's because the restaurant belongs to a guy named McDonald.

That's something I like about McDonald's - 
they know about grammar.

Well, to be honest, if you look closely at the picture, you'll see that they've spelt 'drive through' incorrectly. I think that's called an Americanization - note the 'z'. Still, they got their name right.

I'm going to wash the house today. I won't do a series on it because, with TC away, people will be looking for some very high quality posts. Well, the last thing these people got from TC was a post about toilets. Even the title was pretty predictable... 'JUST IN CASE YOU HAVE TIME FOR THIS CRAP'. Well TC, most people don't.

Anyway, it'll be nice to see him. We'll probably chat about transubstantiation and the three things that can go wrong with a bottle of white wine while Shelley and Lynn are having a woman style conversation. Woman style conversations always have a lot of detail, and a fair amount of parallel universing. 

Well, I'll leave you there for today, but I'll have a great post for you over the weekend.

Ciao tutti. 

* Chilled red wine is something that sets the near 71 year old off.

Tidying the shed. Part 4 (final): The pictorial post.

 Every picture tells a story.

Shelley and I then sat down to have a celebratory wine and I saw this amazing creature.

Maybe the god of the insects was watching over me?

Tidying the shed. Part 3

 Still at Step 1.

I had to toss up yesterday whether to tidy the shed up tidy up the front of the section. 

The section option, a bigger job, won. 

It was very hot and the first part of the job required use of my crappy old weed eater - I'd given my new one to my son. I cut the big lawn but had decided to leave a few parts uncut because numerous bees are attracted by the countless little flowers that seem to sprout up everywhere. I wanted to be environmentally friendly. I wasn't too sure how it would look, but it looks fine. 

I didn't mow the middle part nor the part under the trees.
I also left another bit by the letterbox but that's not in the picture.

I'd just finished mowing and went to turn the machine off, but it wouldn't turn off. Then the 'turn it off knob' broke. I thought fast and got some pliers. I managed to turn it off by pulling a bit close to the engine. All good, except now there is no way to restart it. 

Not the actual lawn mower.

Mine is an old lawnmower and I don't think I can teach it new tricks, so I might need to get a replacement. 

This all gets in the way of tidying the shed. I guess that means that this series will at least have a Part 4.

The Curmudgeon will be pleased about that. Ah! The things I do to keep him happy!

Tidying the shed. Part 2

 The process of tidying your shed comes in a number of steps. Three actually.

Step 1: Find your shed.

You certainly don't want to be
tidying a neighbour's shed by mistake.

Step 2: Take everything out and put it back in, but in a more tidy way.

Step 3: Make a solemn vow to keep your shed tidy from now on.

A tidy shed. The owner of this
shed is a good person.

* * *

At the time of writing, I have successfully completed Step 1.

My shed is in the backyard of our property.

So, I complete Step 1. There it is!

Just behind the bush.

Let's have a look inside.

I think it's safe to say that this is a shed that needs tidying!

Don't miss Part 3. It's coming up soon!

Tidying the shed. (a post in the style of The Curmudgeon)

 I couldn't think of what to write about this morning, so I thought I'd bore the pants off you all with the process I used to tidy up our shed.

Shed [noun]: A little 'house' with no bathroom or kitchen. In fact, there is usually only one room in a shed. One room with not enough room.

The process goes like this. A man and a woman get together and go on a few dates. One thing leads to another and eventually they move in together. The big structure that they live in is generally called a house. The woman chooses how the house will be decorated and the man does any heavy work that is required. A shed is a necessary addition. The man sets it up as a workshop and it contains tools for property maintenance and gardening. There are also a few other essentials like:

• A few half full tins of paint.
• Paint brushes.
• Nails and screws of every size (this is a growing project).
• Bottles of oil.
• Turpentine type products.
• Empty paint tins for the paint brushes.
• Odd pieces of wood that will come in handy some day and a few lengths of pipe.
• A roll of electrical wire.
• A shelf for bits and pieces.

The shed is a well set out tidy environment.

One day something is discovered in the house that isn't needed and there is no real place for it.

This is when the woman suggests, "Let's put it in the shed."

This is where the rot begins.

What was a workshop is about to become a storage facility for anything that is in the way. 

A little later the man joins in. There are old car parts, added big tools, an old tyre, metal that needs to be recycled, a broken bicycle - the list goes on.

Life goes on happily, but it becomes obvious that it is getting very hard to get into the shed, let alone find a needed item.

One day a decision is made to tidy the shed. This process involves taking everything out of the shed and putting it back in a more organised way. Sometimes a few items are sent to the tip, or to be recycled, but this is rare.

My shed desperately needs a tidy. I told The Curmudgeon that I planned to do it the other day. He has been on my back ever since. 

It is still not done.

JACK TEACHER - 4

 

The principal was obviously trying to talk sense to his two side men as ‘Bro’ walked towards his brother. Reacher stood in the doorway beside the spotty boy.

“You the teacher here?” asked Bro.

The spotty boy interrupted. “Nah, he’s only a reliever.”

“Are you the teacher? That would have been better grammar.” suggested Teacher.

“You’d better not be fucking with my little bro!” said Bro arrogantly.

“Although paedophilia isn’t a trait of mine, bestiality would certainly override your suggested option.” replied Teacher.

Bro looked puzzled.

“Look, since you’re here, why not sit down and I could help you with some grammar.” suggested Teacher.

Bro looked even more puzzled.

“You looking for a beating?” he said.

“No, just some better grammar.” replied Teacher.

Suddenly a big brown hand grabbed Bro’s neck from behind and sat right across his Adam’s Apple. It belonged to a big African American man, who really was more of a spirit. The hand dragged Bro over to where the other two were on the ground and under the watchful eye of two other spirit men.

“Thank you!” Teacher called out to the man who had just despatched Bro.

“Not a problem.” Ray Brown replied. “These Larrikin Imbeciles need to learn not to mess with the spirit of jazz double bass players and relief teachers from the 110th."

JACK TEACHER - 3

 

It wasn’t hard to guess which one of the three youths was Spotty’s brother. Same red hair, same slightly stupid look and still slightly spotty face. The guy in the middle. Was he the number one man? “That doesn’t say much about the brain power of the other two.” Teacher thought.

Obviously coming onto school grounds wearing gang insignia wasn’t encouraged. It wasn’t long before a man who Teacher recognised as the principal showed up. Teacher smiled and thought to himself, “He’s called the principal because he’s your pal.” That was a very old teachers’ saying that was often heard at the 110th. It had originated when some woodwork teachers misspelt the title as ‘principle’. Teacher thought he remembered PE teachers getting it wrong too.

The red headed bloke turned to face the principal who was standing farthest from the classroom. Teacher read his jacket. “Larrikin Imbeciles.”

 
It seemed like he was showing his middle finger to the principal. Inside the classroom the spotty boy seemed to be surging with power. He rushed to the classroom door, opened it, and shouted, “Go bro!” His brother heard and turned to face the classroom. Spotty turned to Teacher and said, “Now you’ll have to face my brother. He’s going to mess you up!”

JACK TEACHER - 2

 

The spotty looking kid looked at Teacher and said, “Where’s our real teacher? We’re here to learn.”

Teacher replied, “Okay, first lesson, don’t sit in the teacher’s chair.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the spotty kid retorted.

“No one responsible for conceiving you.” Teacher replied.

The spotty kid missed a beat. Then his intellect dropped a level. “I’ll sit here if I want. Are you even a proper teacher?”

Teacher smiled. “I’m a better teacher than you are a student. Now please move to your proper place.”

Spotty replied, “Can’t make me!”

Teacher replied, “You’d look funny made twice.”

There was a murmur of quiet laughter around the room.

The spotty kid pulled one of those faces that only an imbecile can confidently pull off. Then he moved to his regular seat. He let himself bump into chairs and desks, as he moved past them, in an effort to save some pride.

Teacher introduced himself to the class. “Teacher. No middle name. First name Mister. You can call me Teacher.”

Then he took the roll.

One big problem that both relief teachers and ‘proper’ teachers faced in the lower decile schools, where Teacher normally found himself, was kids who came to school without a pen. Most teachers carried spare pens that they gave out when required.

Teacher had long ago noticed that bringing a mobile phone was no problem to just about all students. He’d wondered how many ballpoint pens could be purchased for the price of a phone. He came to school with one ballpoint pen and a wallet. He didn’t carry a phone and he didn’t carry spare pens.

A boy called to him. “Teacher, I haven’t got a pen.” The boy was playing with his mobile phone.

“You know that you’re not supposed to have your phone out in class?” Teacher asked. The boy thought about it and put the phone in his pocket. “I’ll make you a deal.” said Teacher. “I’ll swap you my pen for your phone.” The boy looked confused. Then he decided that it might be better to borrow a pen off one of his mates.

Teacher was probably among the first people in the room to notice the three young men sitting outside in the playground about twenty metres from his classroom. They looked almost young enough to be at school but they were wearing their own type of uniform. The most identifying part was a jacket that had a gang insignia on the back. The way they were sitting, mostly facing Teacher’s line of vision, made it hard to read what their jackets said.

The spotty kid called out, “Hey, there’s my brother!”

JACK TEACHER - 1

When a relief teacher walks into a classroom, the first thing he does is check the exits. There are normally two, but sometimes three. The second door could be an emergency exit, or it could lead into an adjoining classroom. Sometimes a classroom could be a middle room in a block and there could be a door, at each end of the room, leading into another classroom.

It was the emergency exit that the relief teacher always paid particular attention to, as this was an escape route for naughty children that took them into the outside world. Any other doors usually led into another classroom, which generally meant that there was a teacher in there who knew the troublemakers in the reliever’s class well.

Teacher knew naughty children well, and what they could get up to. He’d spent most of his teaching career, mostly as Head of English, at the 110th. This was not the name of the school but every secondary school in the country had an identification number for administrative purposes. For some reason, teachers at that particular school always referred to it as the 110th.

Teacher had been a respected HOD but he was over the paperwork, marking, lesson preparation and meetings and wanted to see more of his country. What better job could there be than a daily relief teacher? Schools from all over the place would ring when they needed someone to step in at short notice.

Teacher, born in 1960 as Jack [no middle name] Teacher, was fond of the drifting lifestyle and, when he entered a classroom, all he brought from home was a ball point pen and his wallet that contained his eftpos card.

 
On arrival at the school, relief teachers were given paper rolls and lesson plans. The lesson plans varied between ‘well thought out’ and ‘sketchy’ but Teacher knew to expect this. Maybe the regular teacher was undergoing some kind of crisis? Though often the teacher was on a school trip, or a course and the lesson was planned well in advance. Hence the two types of lesson plans.

He entered the room for today’s first encounter and a spotty looking kid in incorrect uniform was sitting at the teacher’s desk like he owned the place.

Meanwhile, back at the blog...

Welcome back readers.

It was great to see so many positive reviews of our recent series 'BASSMAN' with many fans calling out for a sequel.

At Richard's Bass Bag* we're enjoying the little bit of quiet that comes at the end of a successful series. It's great to see that the actor who played Wrong Carta in the BASSMAN series has been nominated for a Golden Blog award.

BASSMAN is also in the running to take out BEST BLOG SERIES at these awards and Richard (of RBB) is expected to take out BEST FICTION WRITER. Well done to everyone who took part in the series.

I'm thinking of tidying up my shed today. I smile as I say that because that's the sort of thing The Curmudgeon would write a blog about and why he's not mentioned anywhere in the Golden Blogs list.

The Curmudgeon

He tells me that he's coming down to Wellington next week. As usual I expect that he'll be hitting me up for some blog writing tips. Actually, I have got a bit of a storyline for him. It goes like this...

It's called SQUARE BALL IN A ROUND HOLE.

Pedro is a keen golfer who likes to play but cannot afford golf balls so he sets out to make his own. His main rival on the golf course is Colfie, actually played by the actor who played Wrong Carta in BASSMAN.

Colfie practises pretty hard and basses his playing style on his favourite golfer Baganini, a golfer who was famous for the whitty comments he had on his golf bag. Here are a few favourites...

• This is where I keep my balls.
• You broke your five iron in half? Join the club.
• Any golf set is only as good as its putter.

Colfie designs a ball that travels exceptionally long distances. Pedro discovers where they tend to land and starts using them, but he writes his name on them. They play a round of golf together and Colfie notices that Pedro is not using his usual square balls.

Colfie says to Pedro, "See you round." and walks off.

TC will have to develop the story from here.

Ciao tutti.

* the original bass bagging site