The G is hard but I’m not.

Not that this is the least bit important, but today two more people looked at my email signature then addressed me as though I were a 500gram tub of Meadow Lea.

I confess I don’t like my name much, but I’m stuck with it, so in lieu of physical violence, I’m thinking of punishing miscreants by inflicting the following on them:

"G" AS IN ...

Some confusion surrounds my poor name
It’s not vital, but still all the same …
See Marg’s short for Margaret
And Margie came aft’rit
So it's G as in Goat, Gripe or Game*

You can tell Marg and Marj’rie apart
(I should have said this at the start)
Cos for Marge who’s with Homer
It’s not a misnomer
(They have Lisa, l’il Maggie and Bart)

Now I’m making this point fair and square,
(Though I realise you prob’ly don’t care,)
I exist, yes indeedy,
Not on telly – in 3-D.
And I’m not the one with blue hair.


I know, I know – it’s cruel, but they’ll only get all the verses if it’s a repeat offense. Fair enough?

*ps: I was going to use gonorrhea and gangrene here, but they wouldn't scan nicely. Small mercies.

"Normal" is a relative term ...

Well what a pathetic excuse for normality. It did FEEL normal at the time, I promise, but then the full swing of Summer holidays (five and a half weeks in total) hit, we went away - no computer - came back - computer spat the dummy, the dog ate my homework ... tick all of the above. Sorry to those few lovely souls who had the optimism (and the interest!) to expect better.

It's been a good few weeks though, despite bloggy and internet withdrawal symptoms. Our 17-year old was on tour in Europe for a month with her string orchestra (Poland, Greece, Italy, France and Austria; had a fabulous time with much "partying" between concerts), and the younger girls went on a Scout Jamboree camp; 14 days in a baking hot dustbowl outside Bendigo with 12,000 other scouts, which they loved (mad!), so Colin and I had almost two weeks to holiday ALONE for the first time in over seventeen years. (What decadence!) We did a sort of road trip through the parched but still beautiful Western District of Victoria, then over the South Australian border to the Coonawarra wine region. Lots of lovely food and wine all the way, exploring little country towns between those seemingly endless eucalypt-lined roads and many thousands of acres of hard-worked farming land in its Summer ochres and golds, and, well, general bliss all round.

Once we had Em and Soph back we tripped off to Sydney for a while, which was also great. The harbour really is just so beautiful, and you must also see it from the water itself. We took at jet-cat this time. It's magic going under that wonderful bridge span and alongside the opera house with those fabulous white sails. Alas, you'd need to be a millionaire several times over to live anywhere decent within view of either of them, but the harbour belongs to the city, and there are many parks and gardens along its banks where you can just sit and drink it in. I promise I did think of my European, Brit, Canadian and U.S. bloggy friends with your snow, rain and icy winds. Never mind, it will be my turn for all that soon enough.

Anyway, enough explanations and second-rate travelogues: I shall now complete my grovelling in verse:

There once was a blog which went quiet
Was its writer on some no-word diet?
Had she dropped off the perch?
Left her friends in the lurch?
(Think of any excuse and I'll try it!)

There now. Aren't you glad I stayed away so long?

M x