Fruit Tea

There's something so promising about a cup of fruit tea. From the second you look at the packet the lure is strong. You open the foil wrapper and smell the bag. It smells so fruity! You put the bag in the cup and pour on the water. The colour looks amazing and your mouth waters as the aromatic steam reaches your nostrils. You wait for it to brew with the utmost anticipation. Then you take a mouthful and it tastes of nothing.



I find it a constant disappointment.

One Step Ahead

I was thinking about my time at school recently for no apparent reason, when I stumbled upon a very specific memory of little importance. I remembered my morning walks to school. I always walked. I wasn't, like many school children these days, driven around in a huge people carrier by a driver of questionable competence. I also remember on the rare occasion I was driven to school, that we didn't park the car right outside the school, or in the grounds, on the steps, or in the classroom. Some parents must get up really early in the morning seeking the prime dropping off spot, and possibly stay there, or in the vicinity, all day for the ultimate pick-up point. This gives me the idea of drive-through schooling. Some of these vehicles are the size of classrooms anyway.

My journey to school was probably about one mile, taking approximately fifteen minutes to walk. I regularly passed friends of mine stuck in traffic. I was always searching for better shortcuts without walking through peoples houses and climbing over garden fences. The weight of my bag accumulating as the years went by, was surely not good for my back. I was carrying half a filing cabinet around with me.
One morning I was heading in to school at a fairly casual pace, when I saw in the near distance the form of a rucksack being heaved along by a 15 year old boy. I soon closed in on him as he was walking fairly slowly.

I increased the pace a little ready to overtake. I sped up a little more, yet still the gap wasn't closing. If anything, it was getting larger. Before I knew it I had broken into a run and was still dropping further behind. He must be late, I thought, slowing down. I wasn't so keen to overtake if I had to apply so much effort. He was far enough in the distance now anyhow.

A couple of minutes later, and the gap was closing. Once more I attempted to pass but found myself running again. It was obvious now that this was some kind of a game. Not wanting to be beaten I ran as fast as I could, but still he eluded me. What was in that bag, helium?

How did he do it? How did he know it was me if he never looked over his shoulder to see where I was? The real question has to be, why? Why did he play this ridiculous game? I didn't even know who he was.

This was repeated on a few more occasions. He always had the upper hand. He could make the walk annoying enough for me to attempt and fail the overtake. If I didn't try, he'd walk uncomfortably slowly in front of me.

I got the feeling that this could have gone on for the rest of my school days, and I couldn't have that. The following week, I changed my route.

I never did find out who he was.

A Sad Day For Wrapping Paper

I was very intrigued by a notice I saw today in the window of a health clinic. It read:

GIFT VOUCHERS
WHY NOT GIVE AN ALTERNATIVE PRESENT IN THE FORM OF A VOUCHER FOR TREATMENT AT THIS CLINIC?
VOUCHERS AVAILABLE FOR CHIROPODY, OSTEOPATHY, AND HOMEOPATHY.

PLEASE ASK AT RECEPTION FOR MORE DETAILS.


This has set a whole new precedent for gift buying! You could make things a little more exciting by gift wrapping a large box containing an osteopath who would jump out at a given command, ready for action.

We could take this further. How about a surprise party? You lead the unknowing person into a darkened room, the lights suddenly come on,

"Surprise!" It's a team of chiropodists wearing party hats, scalpel in hand.


Does there even need to be a medical theme? If such run-of-the-mill services can be offered as gifts, then the options are limitless.

Give the gift of unblocking a drain with Dyno-rod vouchers.
Surprise the unsuspecting friend with congestion charge tokens.
Go on! Treat that special someone to some pest control services!


Make it a day to remember, give dry-cleaning, electricity, petrol, funerals.....


How unimaginative people have become.

Yet More Evidence Of Evolution

A few days ago I was on my way to work when I noticed a black sack, presumably full of rubbish, in amongst a tree's branches. I continued on my way and thought nothing of it.

A little further down the road I saw a sleeping bag up a tree. This did give me pause for thought.

How advanced birds nests have become recently. I began to ponder upon what other items the birds may be collecting, then much more serious questions formed in my mind:

Where were they shopping?

How were they paying for things?

Who was collecting their rubbish, Man or Bird?



I had a lot to think about.

Spoons

I was looking at myself through a spoon last night, and I noticed that if I looked through the back of it, I was the right way up, but if I looked through the front, I was upside down.

This appears to be a general rule with all spoons, at least all of the ones in my spoon drawer. It was an interesting evening.

The Drawbacks Of Giving Praise In Song

I accidentally caught a bit of 'Songs of Praise' the other day, whilst punishing my TV with a hammer, and it got me thinking about my visits to the local church throughout my childhood.

Why is it assumed in a church that everyone there would know the hymns? On the many occasions I attended church services there were always a few hymns to be sung. The fact is, I'd never heard these songs in my life and I really didn't know how to sing them. Yes, OK, a hymn book was given to you, but this is not enough. Knowing the words is one thing, but how do I know the melody, or how fast to sing these words? How many words in a phrase?
Wouldn't it be helpful if the priest, vicar, whatever, announced that hymn number 353 from the blue book was about to be sung, then grabbed a guitar and talked you through the song. At least you'd stand half a chance.

Nobody ever questions it. All the other people are singing along trying to guess the melody, following the organ and each other, and there are often complications. Songs of Praise shows hundreds of the church-going public improvising loosely around a song they've never heard in their lives. You can see those at the front appear to know what they're doing. Either they've slipped the composer a few bob, have downloaded a recent Godcast with all the latest from the hymn chart, or they just have damn fine poker faces.

A whole church full of people all singing with different melodies and in different time. No wonder some are so willing to pick up a tambourine, you can mask the fact that you don't have a bloody clue what you're singing. In my time at these holy sing-songs, sometimes the end of the hymn would nearing and I'd still have half a verse to go. I'd have to squeeze all the words in very quickly on the last note.

There's clearly an assumption that everyone is familiar with the hymn book, and people are just too embarrassed to admit they don't know the tunes they've been singing for years.


Next time you're at a service, when they announce the next hymn to be sung, stop the proceedings and demand someone at least whistles it so you don't feel like such an idiot.

While You Wait...

What's the deal with shoe repairs? The person qualified, experienced and wise in the ways of malfunctioning shoes, almost certainly knows someone very capable of getting into your property. No, the shoe repair man is not fraternising with the common burglar, but with somebody who cut's keys. But why do these seemingly different skills come together under one roof? What's the similarity between fixing shoes, and cutting keys?

There are so many other professions that could have been paired:


Shoe repairs - Bingo while you wait.


Hot air ballooning - Key cutting while you fly.