Great to hear on the news that Wainuiomata has been voted best place to live in the Wellington Region.
I was asked to heel someone yesterday. Now they look like part of a foot.
Peter is storing furniture in Oldlands when he finally comes to Wellington. Storage units in Newlands were all full.
All men are being encouraged to grow a moustache in Moera, but some people say it's a bad decision. A mo era. Hey, they spell 'error' differently in that suburb. Actually, they spell a lot of things differently when they write blog posts.
Okay, enough humour for one day.
Let's get serious.
Yesterday was the 313th. day of this year. Even though I've struggled with practice a bit over the last week or so, I have done 313 hours of practice so far this year. That's one hour for every single day! Not too bad. A small portion of that (35 hours) is double bass practice. I'll try to increase the ratio a bit. Hey, I have a practice for a gig in a couple of weeks with two of my siblings and the music requires a bit of practice. I also have eight unaccompanied violin tunes that I want to practise to perfection. Why? Because I like to have pieces that are 'ready to go' if I get a chance to play somewhere. Yes, OBS and SGB are both included in that eight. Can you understand those abbreviations? I bet that Peter can! Hey, he has played the bagpipes! Rob is better with things like HFCC (Hayden's First Cello Concerto).
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Okay, you know that the other two old bloggers around these parts struggle with proofreading. Here's a paragraph with seven grammatical or spelling mistakes. This is a challenge for them to see how many they can find.
Here we go.
Roberts blog posts normally include advice from Biblical profits, guys who lived in the passed. On his latest post Peter said, "Maybe there’s a new career here for you - Robert the miracle worker or Robert the profit. Lately Peter has bean busy sorting out which furniture will be stored in Oldlands.
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I wonder how the boys will do with that test?
That's it from me.
Ciao tutti.

6 commenti:
Yes, well, It seems that I'll be arriving in Wellington just in time as the standard of humour is dangerously low down there. It will be like a transfusion or, at worst a ressurection.
God!
No, me. God has been promising a return for a couple of millennia. I'm more reliable.
The Curmudgeon,
Who farts in Wellington,
Hallowed be thy name.
Trying to come.
Thy furniture be in Newlands
As it was in Northland.
etc.
Well, William McGonnagal will be pleased to relinquish his position as the world's worst poet to you.
Oh no!
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