Over brekkie I watched
the latest episode of "The Tomorrow People". Having
been marking time for weeks the plot now seems to be going somewhere.
About time too; I was seriously considering giving up with the show.
After brekkie I had a
couple of moments spare, so I harvested all the dog dung from the
garden. It's amazing how many turds such a small dog can generate. I
also took the fluorescent tube out of the fish pond filter. I never
know which one to buy when I replace the thing. It was due for
replacing.
And so to work. The news
this morning featured the revelation that nursery schools aren't
preparing toddlers for
the rigours of school. The pundits started ranting about how
ridiculous it was to have academic expectations of a two-year old.
But it seems that the nursery schools aren't preparing toddlers for
schools in that many children aged five are going to school for the
first time who are not toilet trained and can barely speak.
I would have thought that
this was a job for parents, but apparently (so the experts said)
only well-to-do parents teach this sort of thing to the fruits of
their loins; the vast majority of humanity need someone else to
impart these skills. The implication was made that the vast majority
of humanity can barely speak themselves and are not toilet trained.
The morning's news also
mentioned Charlie Chaplin. He was held up as some sort of an icon on
the "Thought for the Day" section. This boiled my
piss. There has been a recent biography of him which was discussed on
yesterday's morning radio show. I didn't realise that had he lived
today he may well have been a candidate for Operation Yewtree;
apparently his first two wives were only sixteen years old when he
married them. His last wife was eighteen when they married (he was
fifty-three) and it was intimated by the biographer being
interviewed that Chaplin "liked" young girls. Quite
a serious allegation to make on live radio I thought.
Mind you I never liked
Chaplin on a personal basis. My grandmother actually knew him; he was
a contemporary of one of her older cousins. For all that great show
is made of Chaplin's humble origins, no one ever mentions how he
turned his back on the very people who helped him during those early
years. (Like my great-uncle Ted).
And so to work, where I
had a better day than I had been expecting. Again lunchtime was
saxophone practice time. My music-reading skills are coming back;
albeit rather slowly. Today as well as getting used to Puff (the
magic dragon) I experimented with my tonguing skills on some
vulgar boatmen. It was an experience I may well share with an
unsuspecting public in the not too distant future.
This sax business is
going a lot better than I ever imagined it would. Mind you I think
that if I am going to do the thing properly I am going to need a
black trilby with a white band round it. I have this idea that all
the best saxophonists wear a trilby.
Home via the Koi shop in
Chilham. I've now got the replacement tube of the pond filter; I just
need to fit it and we can re-activate the pond. I was going to do it
tonight, but other stuff took precedence.
I took "Furry
Face TM" for a walk. We went out through
Newtown where we woofed at passing cyclists and came back via Asda
where we laid several dog's eggs. I wish he wouldn't make such a show
of it.
And with "er
indoors TM" off visiting the home of "The
Man with No Alias" (patent pending) to peruse the
latest developments in kitchenware I set about the ironing. Far from
ironing itself, left unattended it seems to breed and multiply...
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