Divisions

I have decided that there is another division in humankind.
Along those, ‘Marmite, love it or hate it?’ lines.
Those who have a fascination for squeezing spots and those who find it the most gut churningly vile thing on earth.
I count myself, vehemently, among the latter.
Yesterday I discovered my mate Crisp-e is in with the former and like the Tame Pharmacist, positively salivates at the prospect.
How utterly horrific is that?
See, you think you know a person then BAM! They hit you with shit like this!
I also discovered he does unspeakable things with jam.
I’ll save that for another day.
It must be these kinds of differences that keep good friendships going.

I have had to declare a house-wide sock amnesty.
We all dry stuff in the airing cupboard and because I only wear black socks I grab them all when I see they are dry.
It’s never occurred to me that Housemates may also wear black socks.
Why would it?
I can’t wear non matching, I can see slight differences in blackness, feel minute differences in thickness and it ‘bothers’ me, greatly!
All part of my bizarre charm!
Now I have too many that don’t match and something has to be done before I freak right out.

Another ex pupil. RIP.

This is my tune of the day. Check her backing singers!

The revisited joke of the day was the one about Noel Coward looking at the ceiling during an introduction and saying,
“Edward Woodward… Edward Woodward.. It sounds like a fart in the bath”.
Cracked me up, again!