Bang!

A hit, a very palpable hit!

I got him right on the apex. He struggled for a bit now he's down. Next comes the hard part - the butchering.

This englishmans home will soon be a castle.

House Hunt

It's like trying to shoot a sprightly gazelle. Actually, I've never tried to shoot a sprightly gazelle, so I don't know what that is like in reality. If I had, I'm sure it would be pretty much equivalent.

All houses merge into one average house, which has many added original features, extensive kitchen-bathroom, large external fireplace, off road lounge, converted loft garage, and recently refitted cellar garden. This monster, a mid-terraced detached garden flat, has a well presented front door, well proportioned textured ceiling, requiring complete re-modernisation, being completely restored.

Sounds fantastic. A snip at just £125,000 or we could offer £125, and hope they don't notice the missing ,000.Thats a lot of money. Whichever way you look at it, it's a lot of money. Why do we feel the need to spend all that money on a house? We live in a perfectly good house, which will cost lots less than a mortgage every month, and yet we want to live in our own little castle.

I think turrets would look good, actually. That's a great idea. Our home is now quite literally our castle. I'll employ some Portuguese cleaners to man the archer slit things. With bows and arrows. Drawbridge. It's a couple of planks of wood and a hinge with some chain, sounds like a front door really. Lay it on its side. Horses. Substitute for rabbits. Stables. Rabbit hutch, obviously. I'll have a couple of guinea pigs to walk around the moat, scaring off potential intruders, and acting as an early warning squeak system. If baddies do get through the daunting battlements (front wall, "with attractive wrought iron gate"), I'll scald them with hot water from the upstairs power shower. That'll teach 'em. If that fails, we'll nip down to the hutches, jump on our trusty bunny steeds and escape down the "useful rear access road, with potential for off road parking".

Just call me Sir Jono of 23 Peel Terrace.

Lets hope they accept our offer, I can't wait.

Don't knock anything off, you'll make a mess

Desk diary today:

Knock the 't' of the 'can't'

can'

I've got some coffee this morning anyway, so that's hardly going to affect anything I do. I say coffee, it's really some powdery stuff that comes in a jar. It's like tar in a way. We have other teas - Earl grey, Rooibos and Vanilla, other herbals including berry teas. Sam bought them. She is not a man, so can drink them without ridicule. I, on the other hand, have to endure the gentle and sometimes violent ribbing that occurs when I walk past desks with a mug full of delicious pot-purri. I make up for this lack of hardness by asking for "strong black coffee" a mans drink, I'm sure you will agree. The respect obtained from drinking this substance outweighs the herbal wussiness.

Fact of the day - diary style

1939 - Nazi Germany attacked Poland, triggering WW II.

Seems they must have been reading the advice on the diary themselves.......

"What do they mean 'You can't attack Poland?'"
"There's no 't' in can'"
"What does can' mean anyway?"
"So does that mean we can attack? Or that we can' attack"
"There's no I in team!"
"Yes, but there is tea"

I rest my case.