Dropping Clangers

I DROPPED A CLANGER: well not really... that's just my justification for illustrating my first favourite TV programme (when I was 2, 3, 4 years old)... the Clangers lived on a moon made of cheese. They were black and white mice (well they were on our telly because THAT was black and white...!) and lived out their adventures to the soundtrack of a swanee whistle... (that weird bicycle-pump implement thang illustrated to the right is sposed to be a swanee whistle...)

Not much news: I was intending on a quiet weekend but constant phone calls from "old" friends... then my old dealer did telesales on me... telling me he is back on. This person I do have a soft spot for. I wouldn't use the label "friend" but he is at the edge of my circle of friends... we go back a long way... there is something about him that even when one night he kept a multinational crowd of twelve of us (Italians, Spanish, French, even two Americans and, surprisingly (the international banking set aside) you don't get that many Americans in London at all... anyone who sounds "American" 9 times out of 10 will be guaranteed Canadian. I think that has something to do with reciprocal visa arrangements... anyway we're waiting for time... he comes out with all this crap about "I'm coming up the hill now. I can see you!" and that was when he was still 20 minutes away. But somehow, once he did actually arrive and we all saw his face... all of us did the same thing and forgave him. He is that kind of person. Also it's well known that he got himself a habit on the crack, which you may see as poetic justice but it gives me no pleasure to see someone I like going down the toilet...

I've been trying to tame my other two tubby trotters! Namely Bashful and Spherical. Without too much success. I tried it on Spherical first as she hates me the most. Unless I'm feeding her, any sign of my hand and pyooing!... off she skedaddles. If she were human she'd be waving hands in the air and screaming. She's such a drama queen. So I put her in the "vet's box" (the black plastic box where they go when they're being cleaned out)... she hates it in there. So the introduction of my hand offers welcome escape. Gratefully she clambers up it. I even got her to sit on my hands for ten seconds without panicking, wriggling, dropping or jumping. And I got to handle her without her wriggling too much (roborovskis are so wriggly they're unbelievable!) But as soon as she was returned to her ordinary enclosure she made rapid escape. And glared at me balefully from safely underneath the wheel...

I am thinking of purchasing a brand new gigantic trottery for the robbies. For a mere £6 or £7 I can get a near-transparent enormous lidded plastic container literally four times the size of their current home that I could lay out with all burrows and driftwood and extra wheels and ultra-robo-tainment... I will let you know.

Next week or the week after I get my drugs test back, to throw light on my mysterious barbiturated or benzo'd episode... I shall reveal all as soon as the information is mine to impart...

Take care everybody and have a pleasing weekend... don't you think that picture below is reminiscent of Baby Itchy..~??!?

Tune of the Day:
Michael Jackson: Stranger in Moscow
... this is one of his best songs EVER ...