An irregular, irreverent, post-modern account of the surreal, the ordinary, and the bizarre happenings on and around the Felia lavender farm in Crete

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

routed not routed

Trust me to draw the short straw. The guv'nor was looking around this morning for someone to write today's entry and nobody was stepping forward for that. This holiday period has sucked all things creative from all of us. And so: and I'm totally serious about this we played "... one potato, two potato.." for it! (Five adults standing around chanting nonsense in unison, some with their arms behind them - picture it if you will). Yeah, and I lost! I'm convinced he cheated, but I couldn't prove it, and I'm not sure how he did it, so I've had to keep schtum: but I know what I know. He didn't get where he is today, Reggie, by playing with an entirely straight bat!

The reason you didn't get an entry yesterday was because it was the guv's birthday - him and Marlene Deitrich. D&G started on the old shampoo in the afternoon and by the time he got around to remembering the blog he was partly cut, and then his brother rang and well ... By the time that was done it was way too late so instead he just wandered around other people's blogs, tutting and laughing and posting encouraging comments now and then.

We all crowded round to read the latest entries from our Northern correspondent who has taken to branching out of late. We're all rooting for him to pull it off and keeping fingers crossed.

Now there's an interesting one for you to chew on: router (pronounced rooter) - the box on the end of the desk that connects our machines to the internet; router (pronounced row - ter) - the woodworking toy that the guv'nor for his birthday that cuts odd shapes into timber; rooting (pronounced rooting) - actively supporting. Go figure. The English language in all its rococo splendour. Here on the farm we all love it and revel in it. We battle linguistic homogeneity daily and we've not been routed yet!

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