Would you like to sniff my gazebo?

It's a particularly dull time at the moment, and I'll tell you for why.

A lot of the people we work for and with are in Europe and slack off over the August time, leaving us to twiddle our thumbs and try not to get caught twiddling other people's thumbs. Or blogging, as it's known.

My co-conspirator and life barometer - The Wiblinator - is in deepest darkest (not in a racist way) Africa, slaying Hippos and tenting and stuff. With Gorillas.

The people I share my Parent's house with (my family including parents and siblings, but not including pets) are off on holiday, while I stay and work a while. I still have Herbert, and the endless need to create personalities to attach to CD racks, but you never know, I might grow out of that, like a frog jumping to a bigger pond, I may well create personalities for desks and other bits of furniture.

Have you heard of my bin, George?

Doesn't quite work, does it. What about a table named Mikey who is actually a cutting edge physicist? I'll find one that works, eventually.

So the real reason I'm back doing this, other than my boredom, is that I read a friends blog and remembered how little I'd done on here in any time frame. Still, success they say, is not measured by the quart but by the quince, which was great for medieval fruit pie makers.

I once met a medieval pie maker who had no nose!

How did he smell?

Dead.

And as anyone knows, quince are small fruit that grow on small trees and the tree and the fruit have the same name. Mental!

Not as mental as this sheep I saw doing river dance the other day though, that was properly mental! And tasty, after we'd cooked him.

There you go, that's your lot of unfinished segues and falsities, have a good 'un.