Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Feel The Magoo
Yes, yes, I know I have commented on this before but recycling is the new black. At least that’s the way I saw it this morning when I observed that the dung hawks had emptied a whole terrace of bins right outside The Town House. Already I see I have started to wander from my primary theme but bear with me I will probably make some kind of rambling sense in the end. Its just that I can’t sleep very well when She Of The Town House is away. I had a late night last night and was up and about around four this morning. So for me its already been a fourteen hour day. And I don’t suppose I shall see my bed before ten as She Of The Town House is back from the smoke on the nine o’clock train. Anyway, shortly after four I was rebagging the rubbish from every house in the street and fumbling up curses on the council and the gulls alternately. Where was I?
Back to the Magoo. This is The Town House version of the Star Wars ‘Force’. Basically you can substitute any favourite quote regarding the Force with Magoo. Bearing in mind that the Magoo field is the one that permeates the ether to make us clumsy. You know that the Magoo is with you when you when you pour the milk into the teapot.
The Boy is at an age where the Magoo is particularly strong. As he is growing fast (according to the measurements over my fridge he grew over an inch in the last three months) his brain is still catching up with the new centres of balance of limb and torso. He could probably back slowly away from the great pyramid of Cheops and leave it as an unrecognisable pile of rubble. He doesn’t quite have the mastery of the Magoo of the legendary ‘Gloop’, a boy from Penmaenmawr whom Dave and I almost lost in a swamp once, but he is close.
As She Of The Town House is away till late supper we decided to have a quick scoff straight after school today. We are still trying to use up an embarrassingly large over production from the Seed Fair earlier in the year.
* Hmm unless you are pretty familiar with my back catalogue this is going to be a bit unfathomable isn’t it. Oi….pay attention at the back there*
The thing is, we decided to have soup, bread and butter, and a packet of chips (French fries not crisps ( you see how I take care of friends across the water)).
Finding only one item of cutlery within reach, The Boy treated Axeman and I to a fine display. Buttering his bread was a minor work of art, but for my money the piece de resistance, was the consumption of a whole bowl of soup with nothing but a fork and determination. He may be a bit old but I’m wondering if we shouldn’t get his magoo-chlorians measured.
Right. Lets see if Asbo will release that squirrel so that I can use it to clear up this kitchen. Two hours to go.