Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Sunday, 12 July 2015
A month in the country - I wish
Below is the perfect example of why I use a false name and a fake email address on this blog - I am intermittently pestered by the blogger we like to call Heron, but is, in fact, a harmless and isolated old Druid called Melvyn Lloyd.
I notice that at times you try to be obnoxious and wonder if it is because you have a thin skin, or that you were damaged as a child perhaps bumped on the head ?
None of the above is actually correct.
Suggest that joining Alcoholics Anonymous might be a life saver, even if you are an unloved elderly person living and possibly in a council flat.
There is still time to improve Charlotte.
love and hugs
He often sends me rather un-funny jokes of a sexual nature, but yesterday he included a dire warning about people's art-works being stolen by a company who turns them into T-Shirts, etc.
This is quite timely, because H.I.'s grandson also sent three images of her work to me yesterday (via my real email address) with a view to turning them into T-shirts! I cannot imagine what sort of images that Heron makes that anyone would want to turn into T-shirts - the mind boggles, especially since the printing of them is a very expensive process indeed, let alone the distribution. The images have to be of very high resolution, so just pulling them off someone's blog to print just would not work.
I was going to post a charming if boring account of our wonderful afternoon/evening in the countryside yesterday, but in the light of everyone's reaction to Cro's rant about welfare states and his reaction to their reactions, I decided to leave it for a while in case people accused me of abusing my privileged position in society by hanging around in someone else's large garden and totally forgetting about children starving in Africa thirty years ago, as brought to our attention by Band Aid at the time.
Oh go on then, I will mention it - to hell with a quiet life.
We were at the house where Mary Berry was brought up (above - the converted stables) because H.I.'s daughter was looking after the animals when the owners went away. There. I even managed to do a bit of name-dropping as well.
I really wish we had a garden to lie around in during the Summer, but I just didn't work hard enough when I was younger (I still don't) and my brother ripped my parents off for their entire life-savings long ago.
I've made my bed and I will just have to die in it.