Bruin Fisher

This is brilliant. Clever Cole! I'm reminded of a comedy single from the 1960's, sung by British comedienne and actress Dora Bryan. Here's a verse from it: All I want for Christmas is a Beatle. Not a teddy bear, just a Beatle. I told mum nothing else would do. There are four, so she can have one too. I don't care which ever one she gets me. Ringo, Paul, John, George, they're all the same. I can't wait for Christmas day to come 'Cause all I want for Christmas is a Beatle.

I must admit I hadn't really thought that far ahead - but maybe I could write a series of stories based on this premise. Hmm... Thanks for the encouragement, guys!

Sunday’s Child I’m one of seven. We’re a big family. The oldest is Moncrieff, then there’s Dean, then Wendy, Donny, Freddie, Sam and me. I’m Sonny, the baby of the family. If you’re also the youngest in your family, you’ll know: how ever old, and grown-up you get, you never stop being the baby – which may suit some, but I’m twenty-one and I’d like to be taken seriously sometimes. My Dad is Mum’s second husband; of the seven of us only Sam and me are his kids strictly speaking, but he’s brought us all up as his since Monkey was nine. Monkey? He’s always been Monkey -Moncrieff is a name you could write down but you can’t actually call someone that. Anyway I was telling you this really weird thing about our family. We never knew until this year, it’s not the sort of thing that you know unless you get told. Well, it turns out that we were each born on subsequent days of the week – starting from Monkey who was born on a Monday, and ending with me – I was born on a Sunday. It’s the most amazing coincidence. It couldn’t be anything but coincidence, could it? You can’t arrange your child’s birth on a particular day, I don’t think. The weirdness doesn’t end there, either. There’s this old nursery rhyme: Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go, Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child works hard for his living, But the child that is born on the Sabbath day Is blithe and bonny, good and gay. And it all fits us as a family. Monkey works for a modelling agency. Dean is a vicar. Wendy got in with a bad crowd in her teen years and although she’s been sober for over two years, she’s still on anti-depressants and having weekly therapy sessions. I wish she would sort her life out, Mum worries about her so. I digress; Donny is currently in Bhutan, hitch-hiking his way around the world. At least we think that’s where he is, he hasn’t been in touch for over a month, another source of worry for Mum. Freddy is her rock and a shoulder to cry on. He still lives at home and although he hasn’t found a ‘proper job’ yet, he volunteers at the food bank five days a week. He’s the opposite of our Sam, who is studying to be a lawyer and interning for a law firm in the city and we don’t see much of her although she still has a room here that she occasionally sleeps in. Which leaves me. Oh, and one other thing I should tell you about our names. We were named after the days of the week when we were born. In German, because Mum is originally from Germany. So Moncrieff is named after Montag, Dean after Dienstag, Wendy – well, the German Mittwoch doesn’t really lend itself to a name for a little girl so Mum named her Wendy after the English Wednesday. Back to German for Donny named after Donnerstag, Freddy after Freitag, Sam after Samstag and me after Sonntag. It was only this year that Mum told us the day of the week we were each of us born on, and the link to the nursery rhyme. I still don’t know how it works. How our lives could have mirrored the rhyme so closely without our knowledge. But I’m about ready to come out to the family, and now we all know what the rhyme says about me I think they must have an inkling already, so that’s a plus.

I can remember that time. Although we never had a party line. We didn't have a phone at all until we moved out, abroad, for a few years and rented out our house to the local doctor - who had a phone installed for when he was 'on call'. The number was 2025 and the doctor's surgery was 2026. The local mental hospital was 2028. When we returned and took up residence in our house once more, we had a telephone - the first home in the street with one I think. We got occasional wrong number calls from people trying to get hold of the doctor, or the mental hospital.

I'm a little late to the party, but WELCOME BACK Mike. We've missed you and worried about you. So glad you're on the mend. As others have said, our heartfelt thanks to John for carrying the torch very ably.

In the olden days (when I had hair, politicians were honest, and nobody thought human activity could change the climate) I was used to running around the house early in the morning twice a year changing the time on all the clocks. I'm very glad I don't have to do that any more - one tech advance that's actually made my life better. But now I'm caught out by the one or two clocks that don't adjust themselves. I can never remember which they are, and then I'm liable to trust them when I shouldn't. On a related subject, many of us have given up wearing a watch because we carry a cellphone around with us. Modern cellphones are wonderful tools, and can help with so many things we can use them for. But the one thing they're really not very good at doing is making phone calls! Time was (see above) that a telephone was a bakelite device that sat on a hall stand or table somewhere, plugged into a wall socket. It worked, totally reliably (even in a power cut). Sometimes the audio was a bit crackly but it worked. Forty years later and we're reduced to hanging out of a window trying to get a signal, calling back when the line drops etc. It's a source of immense frustration and is NOT making my life better. Why do we put up with it?

I'm reading The Unknown Ajax by Georgette Heyer. Our hero is a very large ex-military man from the North of England, who travels south when he learns he is heir to an estate near the South coast. He is made very unwelcome by his relatives there, who had hoped that they would be the beneficiaries, not him. His grandfather, the current family head, wants him to marry his cousin, and he's just made a rather half-hearted attempt at paying suit to her and she's made it very clear she's not interested. It's what he says next that nearly made me spit out my breakfast: "Come now, love, never say that!" he responded in heartening accents. "To be sure, there's a lot of me to swallow, but you're too game to be beaten on any suit." Can Georgette Heyer really have been unaware of the meaning of her words, do you think?

Payback by Merkin has shown up in Dude's Picks from the Past and I don't remember it, so I've re-read it and it's simply spiffing. Lovely bit of storytelling from a master of his craft. Thanks James!

Am I right, that Elecivil is not so much lost, as mislaid...? He's a great writer, so sad that he's too busy with his 'real' life to write any more. My very best wishes to him wherever he is.

I joined Slimming World a few months back. My doctor told me I'm diabetic and should 'lose a lot of weight quickly'. So I did. And this month the group voted one of the female group members 'Miss Slinky 2022' and voted me 'Mr Sleek 2022'. Sounds impressive? Not so much, there are only two men in the group. But I got a certificate to show off. Trouble is, the first time I tried to show it off, it was met with a blank stare and I found myself trying to explain its significance, and heard myself saying 'they voted me the best male member'. Fortunately I don't think my audience caught the double entendre.

Hooray! Welcome back, dear Mike. I hope your recovery continues apace. Big e-hugs!

All appendages crossed for Mike's timely recovery. Big hugs despite aforementioned twisted bits....

My chameleon can't change colour... He has a reptile dysfunction.

Q: What's the difference between Light and Hard? ... ... A: You can't sleep with a light on.

Like Cole, I've read the book and seen the movie. Highly recommended.

My boyfriend asked me if I've been having sex behind his back. I replied "Yes. Who did you think it was?!"

Do people run outdoor hot tubs in sub-zero temperatures? I didn't know. My experience with (in) them is limited. Great story, Gee!

As I swung my car through the gates and into the grounds of the cemetery, my SatNav announced: "You have reached your destination."

I have got to see this!

Wow. A beautifully written piece that got me all hot and bothered... As an old British comic would have said: "oooh, Matron!" Very well done. A short treat.

So pleased to find this in the Dude's Picks from the Past. How can I possibly have missed it first time around? This is a story which delighted me, reminiscent of my own boarding school years. Why do these places still exist in the twenty-first century?! Beautifully written by Camy, you'd never guess he was just putting stuff down to reach 50,000 words in the 30 days of November....! A real talent at work.

Three older gentlemen were on the golf course together. "It's windy today, isn't it?" said one. "No," said another. "It's Thursday." "So am I." said the third. "Let's go and get a drink!"

This is inspired. Brilliant, Mr Swede!

Inveterate irony flinger, me...!