Moo-ve over darling
I was rather hoping Mr St John had left a comment. I received a text message saying as much today. But as he has only just mastered texting, posting a comment is too much to hope for. I can see it now, Mr St John (in long trousers) at the computer while his Lady Friend guides him through the process from behind.
The London Boat Show was quiet yesterday. Mr Grigg, Mr Loggins and I bumbled across the rail network from Richmond to the Excel centre like country mice. We marvelled at ticket machines, the things you put your ticket in to get past the barrier and the variety of faces on the tube. We don't get out much. This became clear when a Lord Snooty-stockbroking-type glared at us when we talked to each other. I had forgotten that people become mute on the tube. I remember being on the underground in Barcelona when some musicians got on and had an impromptu jamming session. Rather than just enjoy it, my biggest fear was they would ask for money at the end of it. But they were just doing it for fun. How would I have felt if I had been on the Paris Metro when Naturally 7 opened their mouths? I hope I wouldn't have been like that stand-offish French geezer who just can't bear to look as if he is enjoying himself.
We went to the Boat Show for the first time about five years ago. We were treated like serfs as the reps seemed to just know we not only didn't have a boat, we couldn't even sail. The next year, Mr Grigg came up with a cover story, said we were between boats and looking for a 36-foot yacht. He had done thorough research and we were treated (almost) like we wanted a new Royal Yacht Britannia. It is clear that bullshitting pays off. However, it is impossible to do this on the Oyster and Sunseeker stands where you have to give a blood test to indicate its blueness. Who cares though? These boats are an obscene waste of money, credit crunch or no credit crunch. Just filling them up with fuel is the equivalent of buying a small country.
As we drove back along the A303, with Stonehenge marking the gateway to our world, we were tired but happy. Happy we were going home.
I have just been notified that Celebrity Farmer's relationship status on Facebook is now single as opposed to being in a relationship. Well, he must have been cuddling up close to a cow for the last year or so, because we've not seen him with a woman in ages. Moo!
That's about it
Love Maddie x
The London Boat Show was quiet yesterday. Mr Grigg, Mr Loggins and I bumbled across the rail network from Richmond to the Excel centre like country mice. We marvelled at ticket machines, the things you put your ticket in to get past the barrier and the variety of faces on the tube. We don't get out much. This became clear when a Lord Snooty-stockbroking-type glared at us when we talked to each other. I had forgotten that people become mute on the tube. I remember being on the underground in Barcelona when some musicians got on and had an impromptu jamming session. Rather than just enjoy it, my biggest fear was they would ask for money at the end of it. But they were just doing it for fun. How would I have felt if I had been on the Paris Metro when Naturally 7 opened their mouths? I hope I wouldn't have been like that stand-offish French geezer who just can't bear to look as if he is enjoying himself.
We went to the Boat Show for the first time about five years ago. We were treated like serfs as the reps seemed to just know we not only didn't have a boat, we couldn't even sail. The next year, Mr Grigg came up with a cover story, said we were between boats and looking for a 36-foot yacht. He had done thorough research and we were treated (almost) like we wanted a new Royal Yacht Britannia. It is clear that bullshitting pays off. However, it is impossible to do this on the Oyster and Sunseeker stands where you have to give a blood test to indicate its blueness. Who cares though? These boats are an obscene waste of money, credit crunch or no credit crunch. Just filling them up with fuel is the equivalent of buying a small country.
As we drove back along the A303, with Stonehenge marking the gateway to our world, we were tired but happy. Happy we were going home.
I have just been notified that Celebrity Farmer's relationship status on Facebook is now single as opposed to being in a relationship. Well, he must have been cuddling up close to a cow for the last year or so, because we've not seen him with a woman in ages. Moo!
That's about it
Love Maddie x
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