logz
today our good friend richard is going to deliver some logs. this is something we have been looking forward to now that the evenings are getting a bit chillier. we have even managed to have the chimney swept in advance of lighting the fire, which shows remarkable forward planning. in the past i have scrounged free logs from richard in the form of offcuts and scrap wood but this year we are rather more financially stable so we have had a load of logs delivered like proper grown-ups.
sitting in bed this morning i mentioned the log delivery to the Ageing Rockstar.
"where will they go? what time is he coming? will we have to stack them?" he was clearly worried that his input might be required. luckily i had the forethought to have a son some years ago who has now matured into a tall, strapping specimen who is very useful when heavy lifting is involved.
"don't you worry your pretty little head about it," i reassured him, "you just stay indoors and play guitars." this was what he was hoping to hear. to be fair, stacking logs would not be the healthy option for him, given his reduced lung capacity.
the Ageing Rockstar then started making an odd noise.
"why are you making a noise like a racing car?" i asked.
"its not me, its my lungs," he replied. they do indeed appear to have an identity of their own. they are longer than average lungs. indeed, when they have to be xrayed they often go into a second sheet of film, or whatever they use these days. although half of one of the lungs was taken out last year, it was the top half, so they still dangle down further than they should. this makes breathing even harder after a big meal, as the stomach becomes involved in the battle for abdominal territory. both the Ageing Rockstar and i spend a lot of time discussing their whims and anticipating their needs. we have, so far, stopped short of naming them.
it seems the morning breathing thing was noisier than usual, probably because of the weird dusty weather we have been experiencing lately. suddenly the breathing stopped.
"aw, look! just when i get rid of it then someone goes and does something and it comes back!" wailed the Ageing Rockstar. i looked across. it seems that the cause of his distress was the facebook notifier bubble.
"i just get the red bit to go away and then somebody posts something and it comes back and i have to look at it!" the Ageing Rockstar is a fairly recent convert to facebook and has yet to adjust to its demands. i have explained to him that facebook employs psychologists to design dastardly algorithms that meddle with our minds and steal our souls and that one of the skills necessary for modern life is to be able to ignore the little red bubbles on the screen, but he has not yet internalised this advice.
i suppose when i post this it will cause another red bubble that will demand his attention...
sitting in bed this morning i mentioned the log delivery to the Ageing Rockstar.
"where will they go? what time is he coming? will we have to stack them?" he was clearly worried that his input might be required. luckily i had the forethought to have a son some years ago who has now matured into a tall, strapping specimen who is very useful when heavy lifting is involved.
"don't you worry your pretty little head about it," i reassured him, "you just stay indoors and play guitars." this was what he was hoping to hear. to be fair, stacking logs would not be the healthy option for him, given his reduced lung capacity.
the Ageing Rockstar then started making an odd noise.
"why are you making a noise like a racing car?" i asked.
"its not me, its my lungs," he replied. they do indeed appear to have an identity of their own. they are longer than average lungs. indeed, when they have to be xrayed they often go into a second sheet of film, or whatever they use these days. although half of one of the lungs was taken out last year, it was the top half, so they still dangle down further than they should. this makes breathing even harder after a big meal, as the stomach becomes involved in the battle for abdominal territory. both the Ageing Rockstar and i spend a lot of time discussing their whims and anticipating their needs. we have, so far, stopped short of naming them.
it seems the morning breathing thing was noisier than usual, probably because of the weird dusty weather we have been experiencing lately. suddenly the breathing stopped.
"aw, look! just when i get rid of it then someone goes and does something and it comes back!" wailed the Ageing Rockstar. i looked across. it seems that the cause of his distress was the facebook notifier bubble.
"i just get the red bit to go away and then somebody posts something and it comes back and i have to look at it!" the Ageing Rockstar is a fairly recent convert to facebook and has yet to adjust to its demands. i have explained to him that facebook employs psychologists to design dastardly algorithms that meddle with our minds and steal our souls and that one of the skills necessary for modern life is to be able to ignore the little red bubbles on the screen, but he has not yet internalised this advice.
i suppose when i post this it will cause another red bubble that will demand his attention...
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