The Visitation

In his new movie Signs, Mel Gibson is visited by aliens.

This weekend we were visited by Sara and Stasher.
Rather disappointingly, Stasher’s Legendary Pistachio Pants did not accompany them on their journey from Blackheath. Perhaps Stasher was joshing around and pulling our legs when he informed us that The Pants had been consigned to the Great Laundry Bin In The Sky, but I have the funny feeling that these most famous of undergarments really have now been lost to history. This day of dread has been coming for some time, but for some reason I’m gutted: The Pants – technically boxer shorts - were a nasty colour and slightly threadbare, but they were unusual, a great source of entertainment for onlookers, and most importantly, they were ICONIC.

My head tells me they’ve been burned, but my heart hopes that Stasher has them neatly folded away in his pant drawer.

I should make a joke here about pistachio-coloured pants and little green men, but I can’t think of one…


The Game of Golf

It was Josella’s Hen Do on Saturday, and therefore the primary reason Sara and Stasher came to visit. While the girls hired punts from the Cherwell Boat House and drank champagne on their lazy river cruise, Stash and I hit the golf course.

Venue: Waterstock Golf Course. Known locally by members of other clubs as the “Dogtrack”. Stash called it “characterless”. I called it ideal for a hacker like me.

Scores: Stasher, a fine 99. Neil, a rather mediocre 114.

Result: An enjoyable afternoon of fresh air and gossip, unspoilt by the final scores. Stasher wins the “Stag Classic” trophy at the first attempt. The accolade earns him bragging rights and the honour of taking home said trophy – a magnificent plastic man with a big bendy wood – and place prominently on his mantle piece. He also gets to give me 15 shots next time we play.

Unfortunately, on his departure on Sunday, Stasher “forgot” to pick up the trophy. Perhaps a mere oversight on his part - rather than Sara’s orders – but whatever the reason, every time I look at the little plastic chap I shall be reminded of the bitter taste of defeat…

“I shall have my revenge!”

An up-turned coffee mug on the landing carpet - for putting practice purposes - beckons.


The Diet Rules To Be Enforced

Vicster tells me yesterday that Stashboyslim makes me look fat.

Therefore the diet needs to be reintroduced and the rules posted here for easy reference and enforcement purposes. My reasoning is that if I see them published on the net – and I can refer to them at a click – I will be more inclined to obey them and not give into temptation.

Here are the rules:

1) One can of coke or other fizzy sugar drink per day.
2) No chocolate, cakes, biscuits or sweets.
3) Smaller portions at dinnertime.
4) No bad lunches – full meals in the staff canteen are out.
5) No alcohol midweek *.
6) I should be doing some moderate exercise.

I should be below 12 stone in no time. Welcome to the Wonderful World of Bridget Jones. Break out the rice cakes!

* unless there are emergency circumstances, e.g. a bottle of wine has been opened and the cork carelessly discarded in the dustbin…


The Selection Box

Tina was right: (You Can’t Beat) Asda does indeed have Christmas fodder on sale in its stores. Selection Boxes are currently on display at Asda, Wheatley. There are 92 days to Christmas. For the record, Julian went shopping to “MK” this weekend. He almost went to The Great Maw of Hell shopping centre, Swindon, instead, but MK won out in the end.