And then...

Several days have passed.  The dog doesn't know this.  He thinks everyday is Thursday because that's the day Jennie gets home from gymnastics at 7pm to hear him woofing at the garage door.  Not that he is entirely proficient at telling time either - his clock only has two temporal divisions - nap o'clock and bark o'clock.  Last night (and the night before that) we (Lach and I and the Twins) have slept (on mattresses - a form of camp-in) on the lounge room floor and have had the privilege of listening to our middle aged miniature dachshund talk in his sleep.  Lach (who regularly stays awake until dawn studying maths, history and zombie killing at his PC) confirmed that Pippin habitually mixes his nap-and-bark o'clock discernment in the wee hours, and that this is not just an expression of his sorrow at having Taffy (and Jen) missing from his bark o'clock hours. I miss them though.

Let sleeping dogs snore

Fifty days into the year 2014 saw me re-enter the dismal and forbidding doors of Dan Murphy for the first time since the last days of the year following 2012.  My purpose is this diversion to the house of liver abuse (following a lovely Club Saffron Indian visit) was to procure a bottle 18yr old Macallan scotch whisky.  Now - most whisky experiences are best experienced with passion and anticipation of exquisite flavours and subtleties of palate, and the Macallan range is no different.  I usually work my way up through a distillers range from youngest to eldest in order to comprehend what the master in-charge of blending has tried to achieve.  So I skipped the 18yr old, and also the 15 and bought the modest 12 Fine Oak.  To my nose came grasses and peach, the palate has green fruit with slightly oily herbs, and the finish is shortish with mixed spice.  It was shortly after that I discovered two disturbing facts:  the first was that 100ml of this (or any other) whisky has the same kilojoules as a large Hungry Jacks fries. The second is that I had already bought a bottle of 12yr Fine Oak in November - and I could have skipped it and moved onto the 15yr.  Oh, for a good memory.

4 mattresses, but not stacked

This blog is not a weight-loss journal.  I have another blog for that.  I added to that one 21 times in four months several years ago, for a grand total of 16kgs lost bringing my BMI back into the low 20s.  A year has passed since then, and I have lost a further 8 kg.  I also put 12kg back on in between, so it's not all roses and cappuccinos.  But it's fun to have only jeans that fall down on your hips like a teenage rap delinquent complete with a backwards baseball cap.   I hate rap.  Purely for the selfish reason that I've never heard an example that vaguely interests me.  I think the spread of such music is a wee bit like an Emperor cat-walking a new very shear outfit.  Youngsters (and some oldsters) profess to enjoy it because it's in fad, and they don't want to appear square.  Either that, or I'm just an old bastard with no tolerance for change.  I like metal music - old and new, gothic and doom, thrash and speed, NWOBHM and viking.  It doesn't even have to come from northern Europe - but it helps.

Within Temptation - the best.