The Thwack of Leather on Willow

Quite a racy title, that. Unfortunately my less inhibited regulars are now going to be disappointed (and not for the first time I hear you cry!)

Cricket. It's all a bit mad here at the moment, so just to prove it isn't actually a matter of life and death, and is in fact Just A Game (sharp intake of breath from the terraces), I offer the following comment on Modern Cricketing Sportsmanship:

There is a strange game we call cricket
(Uses one ball, two bats and a wicket)
Tis a jolly pursuit
And some players are cute
But you can't tell the umpire to stickit.


ps: Who is Willow anyway?

These just get worse ...

Two for the faithful:

There once was a blogger named Val
Fellow barge-lover Koos was her pal
Together they moored
And they never got bored
Nor did any who knew them as wal.


Oh Gypsy her blog is so fab
Very funny, and never, like, drab.
Derelicte is her style
Ming Fellows is vile
(Lemon curd - karaoke - rehab.)

Ah, sweet memories ...

More when I get time - take cover now.

Excuses excuses.

There once was a blogger from Oz
Whose page was quite dull, that’s because
When she logged in each day
Meaning something to say
Much more int’resting other blogs was.


(So she read those instead.)

It's raining.

Yes, a nice steady downpour at last. I'd tried everything to make this happen - pegging the washing outside every day, leaving the car windows open in the driveway, watering the plants (with a bucket) whenever the sky looked a little grey, washing the car (ditto bucket) and even planting the entire garden with drought-resistant natives. But no, it was the public blog-bemoaning of the Big Dry that seems to have done the trick - and just in time for the four-day weekend most Melburnians will pinch because of Cup Day on Tuesday.

If it reaches that far, I hope the farmers appreciate my efforts. They won't appreciate the level of sacrifice though - they don't get Cup Day holiday in the country.