Wendy doesn't like jigsaws. Imagine my surprise, therfore, when, one morning a few days ago, I walked into the house and there was a 1000 piecer on the table. Why? So that the children (just to remind readers in the Northern hemisphere that it is the middle of the school summer holidays here in New Zealand) had yet one more thing to keep them amused. With fabulous weather (usually), a 5 acre garden full of fields and hills and trees, a garden pool (I was going to say for the younger members but it seems that even teenagers can enjoy it) and access to a veritable library of books, why is it that children seem, out of preference, just to sit in front of a computer or TV playing games or watching The Disney Channel. And, when they can't do that, announce that they are bored. Now when I were a lad... (said with a Lancashire accent for effect).
Anyway the point of this (says he sitting in front of his computer chatting when he could be out for a cycle or a walk or.....) was that (it seems like) each time I've been up to the house since, Wendy has been trying to finish the jigsaw in which the children have expressed little or no interest after announcing after the first five minutes of its arrival that it was too hard (and, presumably, therefore qualified for the description of being too boring. Or was it vice versa?). Is this the Wendy, hater of jigsaws and other time-wasting things, (so subjective, see What Is Worth Your Time) that I know and love? So, of course, every time I've been up to the house I've sat down with her and got a few more pieces done in what, from the picture, would look to be an easy task but has, in fact, proved to be anything but that.
Thus it was last night. Thus it was that I arrived back after midnight two and a half hours and a glass and a half of red later. Thus it was that I missed a phone call from a dear friend in Scotland. And thus it was that, having read it and opened the comments page, I decided not to comment on And Then There Were None on the blog of L'Archiduchesse until the morning. It is now the morning.
"So what", you might well ask, "has been the point of this ramble?" The point is that when I read Scriptor Senex's comments on And Then There Were None they could have been my very own words. Well perhaps not exactly. After all brevity is not one of my vices. A non sequitur? Oui mais c'est ma vie.
Anyway the point of this (says he sitting in front of his computer chatting when he could be out for a cycle or a walk or.....) was that (it seems like) each time I've been up to the house since, Wendy has been trying to finish the jigsaw in which the children have expressed little or no interest after announcing after the first five minutes of its arrival that it was too hard (and, presumably, therefore qualified for the description of being too boring. Or was it vice versa?). Is this the Wendy, hater of jigsaws and other time-wasting things, (so subjective, see What Is Worth Your Time) that I know and love? So, of course, every time I've been up to the house I've sat down with her and got a few more pieces done in what, from the picture, would look to be an easy task but has, in fact, proved to be anything but that.
Thus it was last night. Thus it was that I arrived back after midnight two and a half hours and a glass and a half of red later. Thus it was that I missed a phone call from a dear friend in Scotland. And thus it was that, having read it and opened the comments page, I decided not to comment on And Then There Were None on the blog of L'Archiduchesse until the morning. It is now the morning.
"So what", you might well ask, "has been the point of this ramble?" The point is that when I read Scriptor Senex's comments on And Then There Were None they could have been my very own words. Well perhaps not exactly. After all brevity is not one of my vices. A non sequitur? Oui mais c'est ma vie.
Posts
Great minds think alike - we'll ignore the next bit!
ReplyDelete