Precision Shaving for Beginners

I found this really funny. It is in the instructions for the razer I just bought: "Get me the setsquare darling, I need to have a shave.."


Still, he seems to be enjoying it.

By the Hair on my Chinny Chin Chin

Some time back (22nd November 2004 actually - isn't the Blogger search wonderful) my razor refused not to raze. I couldn't turn it off. Then it went all dicky. Worst of all it would drop dead in mid shave, leaving itself hanging of my face by the hairs on my chin, which is as painful as it sounds, if not more so.

I've been meaning to take it to bits and fix it. So, having chosen my time carefully, at 11:30 pm last night I took the darned thing to bits. And now it is completely broken. So today I have just nipped out and bought another shaver. This one is very posh, and can be washed under the tap (although the instructions suggest that you don't have it plugged into the mains at the time).

It seems to work fine. I now have a face as smooth as a middle aged babie's bottom.

In Search of Easy Money

There is a five pence piece on our bathroom floor. It has been there for the last couple of days. I think it fell out of my pocket some time back. Nobody has picked it up, which is interesting. It may be because everybody in my house is so rich that they can affort to do without it. Or it may be because they are scared that if they take it I will become angered and demand it back. Perhaps I'd better grab it now. Or I could leave it there as a sign of afluence I suppose. In fact, with inflation being the way it has been, perhaps a floor covered in money is now cheaper than actual carpet. Colder though (unless you used notes - which would be wildly impractical unless you live in certain parts of the world)

Like a God to Four Year Olds

David is a bit cross with me. Apparently his four year old son, having been asked to identify the most important people in his life, drew a picture with "Big Rob" in the middle. I've been trying to work out what, other than my acknowledged personal magnetism, could have brought about such an attitude.

I think it is mainly that we have not met very often and he therefore hardly knows me. And that last time we met I gave him some ice cream and let him play with my four lane car racing set. And I've never told him off, or made him go to bed early. And he didn't have much time to talk to my kids about what I'm really like......

Pub Full of People

Went out the the pub last night. Not that pub, the other one. Our regular was full of folks watching a football match on the big screen. You know you are in trouble when you walk into a place and your glasses steam up instantly (especially if you are not wearing glasses). I have never seen the pub that busy. Whenever you go into something like that you first have to check that your jumper doesn't match any of the teams playing(fortunately it didn't). And cheering when the wrong team scores (or not cheering when the right one does) has been known to decrease the quality (and perhaps the length) of your life so I'm told. Although actually they seemed a friendly enough bunch (some of them might even have been in one or two of my lectures at some point).

Anyhoo, in order to get the peace and quiet we wanted, as well as a place to sit, we relocated the "Preston Foster" meeting to another, less boisterous hostelery just across the road. Fortunately where we live you are never more than a stones throw from at least two pubs, not that I spend my evening throwing stones at pubs. The conversation was as wide ranging as usual, but Ian made the mistake of admitting that he had stopped reading my blog. For shame. I want him to start blogging now, so that I can not read his.