Today I slept in again. It's nice being on holiday, methinks. Didn't have too bad a phlegm attack this morning, so I had no reason to get up straight away to "wash this [gunk] down with a tasty beverage". Methinks I was first woken by my brother, Richard (or the sounds himof), taking out the recycling. I had agreed yesterday to help him, but as I was still in bed, he didn't disturb me: shame. He was getting the house ready for the return of my parents from their fortnight's holiday in Alsace (where they make Alsatian dogs, although that's no way to talk about their mother-in-laws). I've done my fair share of house work this week (well, clearing the dishwasher twice and doing a load of washing), whereas my other brother, Gregory, has done Jacques Merde. I bedlogged the first part of the day, reading Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue. Had a lazy brekky, and was just having a shave (electric variety) and about to pop in the doosh when my parents arrived (at 4pm-ish). (They always seem to come back from wherever when I'm in the bathroom, making me feel rude for ignoring them till I make myself decent.) Anyhews, then had shower and joined them for a late lunch, for which I'm never much in the mood. German food always tastes so bland. I had some Alsatian cake and Coke, though. Not one dog hair did I have in my mouth afterwards - a tribute to Rhine Valley baking. Although, perhaps, they could have removed some of the dog bones...
Then took a scursy into toon avec Vater with the hired auto. He filled it with petrol, which seems to be a bit cheaper over here than in the UK, not that I'm a hydrocarbon connoisseur (yes, I did have to look that one up, at this time of night). 'Tis a bit strange driving in Munich; we usually bus-tram-train it everywhere. The roads are pooty cool, though: very wide and smoove. Got the paper at Hauptbahnhof (Hbf - a rather nifty abbreviation): the central train station. Shootleboosed it home i.e. used the tram. Sandy (that's my father) likes to call it thus. I suppose because it shootles (shakes) as it crosses over the tracks. Although, the tramtracks also make the nice German car wheels, with smooth suspension, go shootle as they cross over them at carfax junctions. It's especially pleasing at night-time, whilst in a 4am taxi back from the double-feature at the English Cinema, when the big wide streets are empty and the blackness is cosy.
Back at the ranch, we were just in time for the important matches on Ran Sat. 1 (the Bundesliga highlights programme). Bayern won by some silly margin like 6-2. Ayr United, while I'm on the subject, beat Ross County 2-1 at Somerset Park today. Rather a bonus result, as Ross had started the season undefeated and Ayr had started the season unvictorious. Dayum: we even lost 3-0 to Dumbarton in midweek, for the sake of the son of whom some people consider to be the Almighty!
More book on the sofa before dinner: mingin' Schnitzel and chips, which used to be my favourite meal. It wasn't mingin' - just not as good as it used to be. (All part of mother Moira's menopausal lack of confidence, and my changing tastes.) Tea always does the trick afterwards, though. I'm getting more thirsty too: sometimes I need two cups in a row before I'm satiated. I can drink a mug of our guyses faster than anyone else I know. Hmm...
More reading, then I was kicked off to bed, so that Richard could sleep on the couch. Finished my book. Will start on William Empson's Seven Types of Ambiguity next. Looked up this blogging thing on the Guardian website. Don't know what drove me to it. Does seem kinda geeky, but I did keep a diary/journal when I was younger. It never had personal stuff in it, unless it was very encrypted. ("Someone very special" still doesn't know who she is, although my affections have since been focused on other girls, one of whom broke by heart so badly that I'm still trying to recover from it today, KBO. She was the first - and only one so far. The current infatuation is aware but not interested. I'm trying not to think about her [hello, Si!], and it helps, but the only way I will get over her properly - that could be a double entendre, I don't know...I might need to hear it a second time - is to fall for someone else.) I was wanting to write an email to one of my friends tonight, but my Inbox was empty. I don't like that feeling, especially if I have made the effort to write to people in the days preceding. (I have this nifty wee postcard, which I got free from a restaurant here in Munich, which looks like a pop-up warning message that you get on computers; it says, "You have no email, you have no friends, you have no life" and then there's a wee button at the bottom that says "Panic" on it. Not bad for the German (non)sense of humour.)
Anyhews, I've started blogging and if you've started reading this, then yaboosacks! (I'll send a brownie - not a young girl Guide, but a ten pound note) to anyone who can tell me where "yaboosacks" comes from. It must be the same source that I got it from as a kid. Thanks, Nani. You gave me my beloved Dog too - more about whom, you will no doubt find out as time slithers on.) I'm off to bedsted now maybe to do a bit of reading and most probs a bit of sleeping.
Oh, as this is a blog, I suppose that I had better give you peeps a peep at a Thomas Cook=hook, line and sink=link, shouldn't I? I came across this in a book called Doing English, which I finished a couple of days ago. The context was about cultural and moral differences, methinks. I'm on the side of the Indians, myself. Read about Kennewick Man.
Depuis la prochaine fois...
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