busker

Totum dependeat

Let it all hang out.

Up at 0600hrs to chug round the block and then lie draped across the divan to watch the newsy stuff and that clever Tim Russert.

Email from E in response to some mischievous scandal I'd sent him about a twitty young thing at work. Turns out he himself had a crush on her so one really can't send him anything about women. I must remember that.

He signs off with an intriguing theory, that

BTW, he'd accidentally let slip that he'd linked to me in his weblog, so if CB doesn't know of it already, she might visit soon.

He'd totally not thought about the entries I'd written about her, though soon after wishing he could stuff the revelation back in his mouth, he wondered if maybe my recent spate of writings was to just shift more revealing entries off of the main page.

But nawww, he concludes, I wouldn't do that sort of thing.

Not only would I not, but I'd move the CB canon right up front if I knew how (change the date, I expect). Better still, start a completely separate CB-Jeebies blog devoted solely to rangey ramblings.

Listen, the lady hasn't time for calling up blogs. She's a fast-track scholar and interprète of matters technical, heading for the fine things in life. Can one picture her running her own blog? Right, well nor can you imagine her reading others'. Case closed. Ventis secundis, tene cursum - Go with the flow.

Matter of fact, had a lunch date with La Bley Motto last Friday, so I naturally packed Safeways' finest frozen Shepherd's Pie, a box of éclairs, and a flagon of cranberry juice for the hearty solo repast that lay ahead. Tiens! What nestled in my in-box? The most courteous of regrets: Mama up in town from the shires, could we do Monday, etc? (Monday, Tuesday, Mercredi - my calendar is putty to her whims)

Actually, not bad timing because my PiP gruesome 1:1 grillings are set for each Monday, noon to 1. I'd need cheering and tear drying and help stemming the streaked mascara, so it rather suited. Plus, I'd brought in a modest birthday gift for last Tuesday, which did my reputation no end of good when it was suddenly found that it was Suzanne's birthday and - yikes - no fitting prezzie ... Holmes to the rescue. The intended recipient will never know; besides, I've saved her the agony of once again giving no acknowledgment whatsoever of these gewgaw offerings.

Back to the 'spate theory', heavens no. The flurry of activity - as I think I say somewhere - was entirely to do justice to *E's* linking to me. Heavens, the boy likes to get things wrong.

Now, it's a gorgeous day which mustn't be squandered, so I'm off to explore the Eagle Harbour shoreline.