What do you call a man wearing two hats?

 It depends on what his name is. For example, if his name is John, you call him John.

John

John liked to play tennis at his local club. He had been good at tennis as a youngster. Nowhere near international standard, just good enough to win a lot of club games that he played. Now he played amongst the seniors, some of whom showed up on court with a walking stick and some of whom called the ball 'out' when it was inside the line. John often wondered why he still showed up, but it filled in his Wednesday mornings.

The senior players were used to seeing John wearing his two hats and no one commented because he came across as a nice guy and showed kindness to everyone at the club. Normally, in a story like this, someone new shows up who is arrogant and everything changes. This didn't happen at John's tennis club.

* * *

I don't really have much to report about my practice. Let me see what I can think of to tell you. I thought that I might get my second fiddle* out and give it a play. It'll be interesting to hear how it sounds. It has Evah Pirazzi strings on it.

Oops, just got a call from dad and he's bringing my grandson around. 

Better go.

Ciao tutti.

* Not Robert, as he used to be called.

No posts this morning.

 

No comments either.

But where are the bloggers?

Off playing cricket.

I hear that he's best in the field.

Might be at Mass.

He's probably eyeing up the communion hosts.

I had a late night, and I have some jobs to do this morning.

Obviously, there is practice to do too.

If you've popped by the blogs this morning, maybe you'd be better off reading a book.

Though give this one a miss.

Ciao tutti.

Richard goes on a trip.

It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,

He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.

He loitered here he loitered there, till he was like to drop,

Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber's shop.

"Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I'll be a man of mark,

I'll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark."

* * *

When I couldn't think of what to write this morning this poem popped into my head. We must have learnt it when I was in 3G or maybe 4G or 5G.

"Ironbark is a rural locality in the City of Ipswich, Queensland, Australia." I had to look that up online.

This is not a picture of Ironbark.

Not Ironbark.

So, why am I going on about Ironbark?

Well, I got up to no posts to read from the boys. Nothing new from either Peter or Robert. Hey, that's not really unusual. Robert has probably been playing cricket and is tired - he talks a lot about fielding. Peter? Well, when I rang him at just after 8am yesterday he was still in his Dutch Oven. Hadn't even had time to drop his phone in the bath.

* * *

You probably read the title to this post and wondered where I was going. No, I'm not travelling to Ironbark. I'm actually talking about a different type of trip. The sort of trip that old(er) people have. The sort that Peter specialises in at the golf club.

Yesterday was rubbish collection (and recycling collection) day. The guys usually come pretty early and yesterday was no exception. I had four bins to 'put away', our recycling and rubbish bins and the same two bins that belong to our elderly neighbour whose paper we also deliver. We have had lots of rain and you have to walk on wet grass to return our bins to their rightful place, so I decided to wear my big heavy work boots. As is my normal plan, I do Val's bins first. I grabbed her two bins and took off up her drive. There are three big concrete slabs on her drive and the first two do not sit evenly. These slabs are probably each about 3 metres long. One concrete slab sits about 2 or 3 centimetres higher than the one before it. This is what one of my big boots bumped into. I must have been moving at a bit of a pace because my body was thrown forward, leaving the two bins to fend for themselves. The only memory I have of the fall is the pretty extreme pain I suffered when I hit the stoney concrete. My right hand and my right leg took the brunt. I must have screamed out because Val heard me and came out to help. Getting up was a very hard job. I had to use my damaged hand for momentum until I could get my other hand onto the top of one of the bins - the side of a bin really, as they were both laying on their sides. 

We managed to get the bins up to her garage and I limped home to put our bins away. Then I went inside to inspect the damage. My right knee was bleeding right through my trousers and my right hand was stinging badly and bleeding in places. I seemed to go into shock for a few hours. Shelley patched me up. Thanks darling. Fortunately, I sort of felt much better by mid-afternoon. My recovery was helped by a glass of Cleanskin. As my mother used to say, "It'll either cure you, or make it worth having."

On the up side, I was able to get some good violin practice done later in the day. I guess I was lucky that my left hand seemed to escape injury, though the little finger feels a bit stiff this morning. I'm going to pop into Wellington to get a spare set of those Violino strings while they are available. The music shop is very close to Peter's new apartment. Maybe, in the near future, Peter will be able to get my strings for me? I guess it'd be wise to give him a lesson or two on choosing violin strings first.

Go the ABs tonight!

Ciao tutti.

Pirastro Violino.

 

Take a closer look at my little violin picture today. Something has changed.

Okay, here's a picture to help you out.

The wrappings on the end of the strings are a different colour. I bought these at Alastair's Music yesterday, on his recommendation, and they sound great! They were also not as expensive as other strings I buy.

I'd never heard of this particular string before. Pirastro make lots of differently named violin strings - Obligato, Evah Pirazzi, Tonica, etc.

I do have a funny story about these strings.*

Quite a few years ago I was playing double bass in the Wellington Chamber Orchestra. There was a lady bass player who was one of those people who know everything and don't listen to what you have to say. We both finished up talking to a violinist in a break. I noticed that her strings had blue wrappings and I asked her what they were, suspecting that they were a Pirastro string. She said, "They're Pirastro." I replied, "Yes, but what type?" The know it all lady spoke up in a big voice. "She has just told you!"

Idiot!

Now, finally, I know that they were Pirastro Violino strings. If that know-all lady had simply shut up, I might have found out years ago.

Someone said to me, not long ago, "We have two ears and one mouth." I liked this! It is no fun talking to someone who doesn't listen. Here's a little trick, if you want to be a nice person - SHUT UP AND LISTEN when someone is telling you something that is important to them.

So, what is happening around the blogs?

Peter is back telling tennis club stories. Lynn and him have rented an apartment in Wellington, which Peter will live in at times. I checked it out yesterday when I was out buying violin strings. His new residence is very close to the violin shop. Lucky Peter!

Robert did a short little post that finishes by telling us to 'stop sin'. Actually, to be more accurate, the message is written more like this...

Stop.

Sin

Notice where the full stop is. That could mean to stop what you're doing and go sin.

I just rang Peter to talk about how to get to the car park for his new apartment. Fortunately, he hadn't dropped his phone in the bath. Actually, the lazy bugger was still asleep. We had a quick conversation where I said, "I'm not rich, but..." He interrupted me to say, "But you are, that's your name!"

No one has ever made that statement before. I was very impressed by his quick humour. Maybe 'impressed' is not the right word to use here? Knowing Peter, and his incredible wit, next he'll be calling me Rich Shit! How can I possibly compete with this guy?

I'm off to try and think up jokes that are almost as good.

Ciao tutti.

* Though obviously not as funny as TC's tennis club stories.

A new form of intelligence is sweeping blogging sites.

 It is known as RI and it is already making changes to the way things were and making predictions.

For Example:

The capital of Thailand will now be known as Whackdick.

This blog recently changed its name but where are the posts?

"When a blog stops putting comments on other blogs, 
its end is near." says RI.

I suspect that you're beginning to see the power of RI.

Okay, back to my practice.

My music practice is easy now because I'm using RI. I can even get bagpipes sounds out of my violin. All I have to do is play one of the notes in the one available scale a bit flat. Sometimes I make two notes a bit flat and that sounds even better!

On my bass playing tunes is now easy. Music theory is a waste of time. RI tells me that there are only 12 different notes in music, using the tempered system. Play any note and you have a 1 in 12 chance of picking the best note. Those are pretty good odds. Who knows, if you pick a 'bad' note, you might sound like a jazz musician?

I'm also using RI to make humerous pictures. Check out this one:

I took this picture

and look what I did to it!

Pretty unbelievable, eh!

One blogger has contributed to RI by showing how we can successfully change our language.

Read this:

"Yestoday I went to the Wearhouse to by one of there sellphones."

Hey, it works, eh! Everyone can understand it!

Thanks to RI English language is now becoming easier for the slower members of our community.

I mean, whatever you write, you have a choice of there, their and they're. You can also freely choose between to, too and two!

If a word sounds the same as another, just choose whichever one you like!

Go RI!

The parable of the ancient 'blogger' who didn't update his blog.

He was in one of those countries in the ancient Middle East and Jesus walked among the people in a market that smelt a bit of two or three day old fish.

Obviously, there were no computers in these days but the fishmongers liked to spend their time writing things on small pieces of wood, with sharp little fishing knives, that they later tried to get written up on scripts or in the few books that existed. Most of them had heard of a new book, called The Bible, that some guys were getting organised and they tried to write things that could work in that book. Consequently, they weren't spending as much time as they should have selling fish. Hence the smell.

The locals called these fishmongers 'bloggers' because they wrote what was often called 'bullshit' on their little 'logs'. Although it was said in a foreign language, this is the first time that the concept of the word 'bullshit' was defined. 

Jesus stopped and asked one of the fishmongers what he was writing. The man replied, "Well mate, I have a pair of balls so I call my little stories 'pair of balls'. I suspect that, as history has its effect and languages change, the spelling of my little writing miracles might change too."

"What is your name?" asked Jesus.

"Well, the fish that I sell are called Bass, so I write under the name of Vikard's Bass Bag. See that guy over there? He spends more time trying to sell his fish than writing. He calls himself The Chondrichthyes. You can see his little piece of log sitting by him, unused. That other guy, a bit further down, sells fish one day, then he spends time boring holes in things. He calls his writing Dod's boring snapper."

Jesus thought for a while and had a quick prayer with his Father in Heaven. Then he approached the guy named Dod. Jesus spoke to him. "Hello Dod, I have friends who are working on a book that will change the way people go through life. This book will be called The Bible. To cut a long story short, we're going to need bloggers to contribute. I hear that your writing efforts are inconsistent. We don't need holes bored in wood, we need words. Also, your fish are starting to smell."

Most historians agree that this is how parables started.

"I remember this day. Everything
written here is true."

Back to work.

 

I play this instrument at work.

That's why I'm up early.

Since everyone around here is writing parables, I thought I'd write one too.

This is a little known parable that the powers that be are thinking of adding to The Bible.

Brent's decision.

Brent had been teaching himself guitar. He'd read several times, on Facebook, that music theory was a waste of time and stood in the way of being a successful player. He eventually subscribed to one of these sites. He was shown a pattern, by a guy named Archibald, and told that this would make the need to learn any music theory obsolete. Archibald didn't seem to know that this pattern was actually the three possible fingerings for a major scale, in one position, on the guitar. A three octave major scale.

Anyone who had studied a bit of theory would have known that you could pull seven modes (like scales) out of these fingerings. If you understood the modes, you would know which chords to play them over. Brent did cheat a little and learned to play four chords - E, Em, A & Am. A friend also showed him how, by turning these chord shapes into barre chords, you could play in any key. 

Brent soon started to see Archibald like a Christian sees Jesus. He learnt to waffle around Archibald's notes and was happy with the sounds he made. Brent felt liberated and praised Archibald to everyone he knew who was interested in music. Brent knew that it would only be a matter of time before he would become a famous guitarist.

* * *

I hope you liked that parable. These sites that run down music theory in regard to playing the guitar pop up quite often on Facebook and the authors give just enough information for me to see what they are talking about. The next step is that you have to give them personal details and sign up. Then you are a member of the flock.

Closing down sail.

 

Hey, bad spelling is popular around here!

I popped into confession at our local church today. The priest on duty told me to fuck off. I thought of Rob. I was going to ring Peter, but then I remembered that he is probably still too pissed to make much sense.

Hey, no comments on my last post, except from me. Peter found time to comment on Robert's latest post. He didn't have time to visit my blog. To be fair, maybe he dropped his phone in the bath again.

I think I'll give posting a rest tomorrow.

I'll leave Robert and Peter to read each other's blogs. 

Go sin the fuck boys and don't worry, boys. Priests don't really give a shit.

See you sometime soon; perhaps.

NTTPT.*

 * No Time To Post Today.

No, I'm not rushing off to mass or confession. I just have people coming to lunch. I sat up until 10pm last night after watching the All Blacks win. Then I slept in until after 7am.

The French came second.
They'll be pleased with that.

Robert got to confession to find that it was closed. He would have been better off watching the rugby. I guess he can also afford to add a few more sins as he is evidently already a sinner. It doesn't sound like the priests care.

Peter got a bit pissed and left silly messages on my last post. I'm not talking about the one I play on ANZAC day. I'm sure he wouldn't talk through that. I wouldn't mind betting that he'll drop his phone in the bath this morning. 

I'm off.

Make Aotearoa Great Again!

Rain, rain, go away,

Come again another day.

The All Blacks and French want to play, so

Rain, Rain, go away!

When the All Blacks win everyone is happy! 

Well, probably not everyone. Many years ago, I remember watching an All Blacks game with Shelley and she asked, "Which team are the All Blacks?" This wasn't one of those days when they were wearing white, as they sometimes do if they play another team with a dark uniform.

I suspect that Rob would rather listen to Hayden's cello concerto No. 2 than witness the All Blacks making Aotearoa great again. 

At least, I know that Peter will be in front of his TV in his shorts and t-shirt, with his phone drying out by the heater and a glass of Cleanskin Chardonnay in his hand.

He'll probably be wearing his favourite cap too.

We had VERY HEAVY rain last night, but soon I'll deliver that paper to my elderly neighbour and get into some violin practice - long bows first. I'll try not to think too much about the All Blacks as I get my habits done. Hopefully I'll get an hour of double bass done too before we have to head out. Today is the 30th. anniversary of the Karori Op Shop. My daughter works there (it's all for free), as does my wife. My mother worked there too! I never have and never will, but that place has quite a family tradition. I'll see my oldest brother there because his wife works there too and is one of the organisers. Their older daughter works there too. I can't miss that!

Sorry, not much about what I'm practising was mentioned. Should I mention the tritone substitution? That's where you play Db F Ab Cb (B) instead of G B D F for the middle chord of a Dm7  G7  Cmaj7 progression. I don't think you'll hear this progression being used by folk musicians. It's really a jazz thing. It is actually very easy to do on a guitar or a bass guitar. It's pretty easy on a double bass too. Hey, but I'll leave the tritone substitution there for today.

In fact, I'll leave you there for today too.

Ciao tutti.

I'm late.

Posting after 9am!

Peter is probably up and having a bath. I hope his phone is dry and okay!

Robert tells us, in his latest post, that he's back to loving god and three people. I'd put the nice looking lady at the top of the list if I were him. Ah, but Jesus won't let him.

I'll keep up my two hours of practice today. On the double bass I'm practising listening for chords, like when you're playing with a folk band and they don't give you any chord charts. I'm not saying that this will be the case when I go for a 'try out' with that folk band. I feel that it's just a really good thing to practise. There is really no need to practise this on the violin because you can just use harmonic approximation. I've been playing along with lots of folk tunes. The choice of chords is really coming from the major and minor pentatonic scales, with a IV chord thrown in for major tunes. It's good practice.

I know Robert will be fretting (nothing to do with guitars) about the All Blacks and how they will go on Saturday evening. Peter just thinks they're a bunch of grown men kicking a ball around and touching each other. I hope I got that the right way around. I think this All Black team will do very well. I'm also looking forward to seeing the ladies play. They're VERY GOOD!

I think I just heard a splash.

Was that Peter's phone being dropped into the bath?

"Oh no!" as my elder grandson likes to say.

Peter, why do you need to take that phone into the bathroom? You can always ring people back when you are dried up and dressed.

A demonstration, by me, of how
Peter looks when he is dried up and dressed.

Well, that's it from me.

Don't forget to support the ABs.

Ciao tutti.

Giovedì. Una bella giornata per l'italiano.

Buongiorno. Mi sono alzato presto.

In realtà Shelley è ancora a letto. Non è la mattina più fredda che abbiamo avuto quest'inverno. Se voglio che i ragazzi leggano questo post, forse dovrò scriverlo in inglese.

I just read Robert's latest post. I see that he is worried about the possible return of the Moa. He seems to think that Moa were carnivores and that they weren't 'wiped out'. I heard that settlers wiped them out because they were eating their crops. If this is true, they don't sound like carnivores. Anyway, I'm no expert on this topic.

I'd rather talk about the tritone substitution. Okay, okay, Peter and Robert wouldn't be interested in that.

I wonder if Peter will change his name to Perry McMason if he gets accepted onto jury duty?

I practised my instruments for two hours yesterday - one hour each. I'm still doing the Atomic Habits. Within those habits I include work on four solo pieces on each instrument. Robert said that he's getting a sore hand if he bows the cello for too long. Generally speaking, if you're getting a pain while practising, it's time to examine what you are doing and how you might fix it. 

Look at this lady's right hand.

Look particularly at her little finger. A violinist normally has the tip of this finger sitting on the bow. This lady is holding her bow more like a double bassist would. Like her other fingers, the little finger is over the stick. Remember that the bow is in a different position to that of the violin. Rob, stop worrying about Moa and put more thought into how you hold your cello bow.

"Yeah. Think about how you're holding 
that cello bow, Rob."

Okay, that's enough for this morning.

Ciao tutti.

Return of the bow.

 

Oops, using it on the wrong instrument!

I was practising my double bass the other day and my bow was sounding a bit scratchy. I suddenly thought of my other bow that has been sitting in my 'strings drawer' for a long while. This bow has an interesting history, even more interesting than Peter doing jury service. It was originally a French or Bottesini bow. The two frequently used double bass bows each have two names. I swapped it off my youngest sibling Daryl for a bass guitar - hey, it's a very good bow! Daryl had switched to a German / Dragonetti bow. Soon after I got interested in using a German bow too, so I took it to a luthier to get it changed over. The French bow is held much like a violin bow, but the German bow has an entirely different grip. It has a much larger 'frog' - the bit that holds the hair at one end.

I was a bit pissed off when I discovered that the luthier had designed the frog in a slightly different shape to that of a German bow. However, it turned out that he really knew what he was doing, and I was wrong. He had done some research and found that the 'weight point' on a French bow was different to a German, so he had slightly changed the design. Clever fellow!

I've started using this bow again and it sounds great! The other bow is now in the 'strings drawer'. Hey, I'm lucky to have these two bows. They're both good bows.

* * *

So, what are the boys up to?

Peter thinks he is in the Perry Mason TV show.

Robert has had to postpone his trip to Taupo.

In his post, 11 MORE ANGRY MEN, Peter gives 8 reasons why he is the ideal juror.

1) He was in 3P in 1966 and knows the term 'mea culpa'.
2) He is quite old.
3) He has sold wine and is a great fan of Cleanskins.
4) He sat in on a law class at university because there was a nice girl in the class.
5) He got kicked off a jury once before.
6) He has read a few books, as well as Playboy magazine.
7) He upset a guy at the local tennis club and often fell down a bank at golf.
8) He's trying to sell his house so that he can get out of this community.

Sounds like he's the man for the job.

Well, at least he's not having to sleep outside like Robert.

Ciao tutti.

As the dwarf said, "I'm writing a short post this morning."

 

I've got to be out by 9am to take Shelley to Karori and I've slept in a bit.

I did another hour on the double bass yesterday, as well as my violin practice. 

I got all my jobs around the house done too. The lampshade is now in place, over a bulb and hanging from the roof, in the bedroom.

I'm one hat short now, but at least our bed is inside.

Not like this.

That's it.

Ciao tutti.

Sometimes, when you're an 'andad', it is necessary to wear a lampshade.

What 'andads' have to do.
Me wearing a lampshade to impress my two year old grandson.
 

"Makes me wonder if it is just the teachers that like girls to where skirts." Robert's back, and he's sorting out teachers!

This is a comment he left on my last post where I mentioned that schools in England, in a place called Teesside, plan to ban girls wearing skirts as part of the school uniform. Unfortunately, Rob hasn't sorted out his grammar. I assume that he means 'to wear skirts'.

I guess the question is, "Do girls like wearing skirts?" I guess you'd have to ask the girls. Most secondary schools in this country (I assume that just about all do) give girls a choice. It is certainly not unusual to see them wearing pants. I've worked in a lot of secondary schools. Okay, I do accept that I know almost nothing about fashion, but many older women seem to choose to wear skirts. 

Anyway, let's move along.

I've been asked to try out for a folk band - this try out will happen in early August because they have a gig at the end of that month. I actually practised the bass for an hour yesterday. This is quite an interesting concept. Folk music is generally on the easier side to play. This band has three guitarists, who also sing, and a percussionist. I've listened to a few of their videos and the time seems pretty 'up and down'. It could be quite interesting to inject a subtle rhythmic thing from the bass. Another question is will they give me charts, or will I be expected to work the chords out for myself? This type of guitarists often use a capo. I know guitar chords very well and could easily spot what chords are being played. A capo can add another dimension. For example, a guitarist might put a capo on the 3rd. fret and play G  Em  Am7  D7. What he is really playing is Bb  Gm  Cm7  F7. That makes it a bit harder to spot the chords. My practice yesterday was listening for chords. This is a great skill to really develop. It's like playing melodies that you haven't played before, like a singer does.

Missed the Saturday dance,

Heard they crowded the floor.

Ain't nothing without you,

Don't get around much anymore.

That's a great song, but it's Jazz.

Like Robert and his skirts, Peter has a thing about perfume. See his 'LOCKER ROOM' post. If I need to cover up smells, I often pinch some of Shelley's perfume. One day, many years ago, I'd done this and was sitting in a secondary school staffroom at morning tea. I heard one woman teacher ask her friend (they were both wearing skirts), "Who's wearing that lovely perfume?" I didn't own up.

Well, that's about it from me for today. I have jobs to do, and I'm not talking about going to the toilet - put a new door seal on one of our doors, try to put up a tricky to fit lampshade in our bedroom, change the batteries in our three fire alarms and record the due dates of our car warrants and registrations. 

Ciao tutti.

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad world.

 I just read by chance that, in a place called Teesside somewhere in England, oh here's a map, they're banning skirts for girls as part of the school uniform.

Where Teesside is.

"A school trust has been hit with a backlash from parents after they chose to ban skirts in its new school uniform policy. The Northern Education Trust told parents it would make a change to its school uniform policy, which will come into effect from September 2026. In a letter published online across four of its Teesside secondary schools, the trust says: "From September 2026, the school uniform will no longer include skirts as an option, and all students will be expected to wear tailored school trousers. This decision has been made following careful consideration and feedback from all stakeholders across the trust, where it highlighted the benefits of a more practical, inclusive, and consistent uniform policy.""

This is just a guess, but I suspect that a lot of women and girls feel comfortable wearing skirts. I wonder if Scottish schools will ban kilts?

* * *

Ah well, moving on.

Robert's blog is still 'blank'. If he doesn't post in a few days, I'll probably remove the link to his blog. I'm assuming that he doesn't love Peter anymore.

"Hey Robert, you cutie, I
told you to love your 
neighbour as yourself."

I watched "grown men kicking a ball around and touching each other" (Robert's description of rugby) last night. The ABs just got home and the 'second rate' French team played very well. Their kicking game was superior, and they had some great outside backs. The second test will be interesting. To be fair though, the second ref with a camera disallowed two All Blacks' tries. Final score, 31 - 27.

It is getting close to 7.30am and the sun is starting to rise in the Nui. I won't be going to mass this morning, nor will I be working in the church shop.

I will be doing some violin practice and some double bass practice. 

Well, that's about it from me this morning.

Ciao tutti.

Tomorrow morning's post.

 (PLEASE DON'T READ UNTIL SATURDAY 5th. JULY, AM!)

Good morning - another wet, cold one. 4 degrees here.

Thank Zeus for my heater!

"No probs, Richard of Richard's Bass Bag."*

The ABs play this evening, and I intend to watch it. It'll be a very interesting match. I've heard that the French have turned up with a bit of a second rate side. That's their problem.

As I said, I set up The Curmudgeon to cover my morning post but, as I should have suspected, he fucked up and posted it on Friday. Hey, they're not on a different time zone up in the Rei.
He went to a restaurant last week and the waiter asked him two questions in quick succession.

"Have I given you enough food on this plate? What's your IQ level?"

The Curmudgeon answered both questions with one word, "Moron."

My backing music gig went pretty well last night. It was nice not to have to drive home in the rain and cold. 

Still no news from Robert, though I did hear that he's posting his religious nonsense on Facebook. You can't see it, unless you're one of his three friends - that's really getting the word out there!

Well, that's just about it from me this morning.

Hey, please be nice to The Curmudgeon as he's getting old - he turns 73 next month.

Bloody hell! No wonder his proofreading isn't up to scratch.

Enjoy your Saturday and don't miss the ABs!

Ciao tutti.


* the original bass bagging site

Should I take over Rob's biblical messages, now that he has buggered off?

Luke 1:5,6,7 In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah, and whose wife Elizabeth was a daughter of Aaron. Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and decrees of the Lord. But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and they were both well along in years.

Luke 1:8 Zechariah prayed to the Lord. He asked for a son. For the first time in our words of teaching God swore. "Sheesh!" he said, "What the shit! You're both too old!" The priests of Abijah tried to justify the Lord's words, but none of them could work out the word 'Sheesh!'. "Did he mean to mention sheep?" some of them wondered. "Did he also mean to say, "What a hit!"? The priests of Abijah decided to blame it on translation. 

Luke 1:9 Elizabeth prayed to the Lord and asked for a virgin birth, but the Lord said that was just not possible. 

"It wasn't me who swore!"

So, I'm off to play Irish music and Jazz tonight on my violin (with backing tracks). We're staying the night, so there won't be a post in the morning. Maybe Peter could write one? He could just write one of those short ones, with a video and a picture. That wouldn't take him long. He'd only need to write a few words. Hey, here's an example he could just copy, if he'd like.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

THE CURMUDGEON

IT'S UP TO ME THIS MORNING

So, Richard is off on a sleepover. Inconsiderate of him really because he normally writes a bolg in the morning. Yes, I know, we'd be better off without his Wainuiomata attempts at humour. 

[Video of a song about making people laugh by a 70s rock band]

Well, locally I am writing this blog to myself, now that Bob has disappeared again. Fortunately, I have many overseas readers.

[A map showing many countries and the numbers, in thousands, that follow TC's blog]

Well, that should cvoer my obligations. I don't want to show him up too much, poor old 3G guy!

COMMENTS

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

I put in two typos to make it realistic. Thanks, TC, for filling in for me.

Ciao tutti.