Monthly Archives: September 2017
Welcome to what will likely be the last edition of the Moreton Pinkney Picayune for the immediate future – Ms Playchute and I are off to China on Thursday to visit Adam, Ava and the charmingly delightful and gorgeous Jessica for a few weeks so communications could be limited. Limited only because we have too much fun when we visit China and don’t seem to find the time to do much of anything else. There will be a full report upon my return. You may have to wait somewhat longer to enjoy Ms Playchute’s account – after China she is flying off to Australia to spend some time with her sister J visiting some of their Australian relatives. She won’t be back until mid-November! Don’t fret; I am sure she will fill the freezer for me before we go. (Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha). Continue reading
My husband and I often spell words so that our small children won’t understand what we’re saying. I didn’t realize what a habit this had become until one day when my husband and I were in the grocery store at the soup aisle.
An aggressive young woman banged into our cart, then nudged me over, blocking my access to the soup. Annoyed, I looked at my husband and said, “Boy is she r-u-d-e!”
“Yeah,” he replied, “but I’ll bet she can s-p-e-l-l.” Continue reading
Wow! Has it turned autumnal all of a sudden. Anyone would think that the summer was over. (What summer, I hear you ask, but to be fair it’s not been a complete washout). The evenings are getting darker earlier, the mornings are “brisk” and the swallows/house martins have vacated the premises, beginning their journey to the warm winter weather. I guess we might get a bit of an Indian summer before we leave for China? Let’s hope so. Continue reading
Two older, successful businessmen met at a resort. One who had recently retired was describing his life, “I get up late in the morning, have a light breakfast and then I lie down on my veranda for a few hours and relax.
In the afternoon I go inside for lunch, have a great salad, fruits and cold fish, then I spend the rest of the afternoon boating or playing golf or tennis.
When it starts to get dark I have a great dinner with a nice bottle of wine. I smoke a Cuban cigar. Then I go lie on my veranda again.”
The other gentleman acknowledges that this is a life to be envied. Later he reported the conversation to his wife. She asked, “What’s his wife’s name?”
Her husband said, “I’m not sure, but I think it’s Veranda.” Continue reading
Last Saturday was the Moreton Pinkney Gardening Club’s 75th Annual Horticultural Show. Everyone is encouraged to enter produce, flowers, baked goods, etc. into the competition which raises a bit of money for the village. Last year we were away in China when it took place although I did bake a moderately mediocre loaf of sourdough which I asked a couple of neighbours to enter on my behalf. They did but sadly it failed to win any awards although they said it was very tasty and they had thoroughly enjoyed its consumption. Continue reading
The police officer approaches the driver, “When I saw you driving down the road, I guessed 55 at least.”
The lady driver looks at the officer and replies, “You’re wrong, officer, it’s only my hat that makes me look that old.” Continue reading
There is a tradition in the UK – bank holidays will always be spoiled by the most miserable weather imaginable. Folks look forward especially to the August Bank Holiday weekend which represents one last “hurrah” before school starts back at the beginning of September. Villages organise fetes and other activities and untold millions migrate to the beach to spend the day huddling under what little shelter they can find while their toddlers and young children splash at the water’s edge gradually turning blue with the cold. Continue reading
My friend asked his father-in-law, a crop duster, how his day had gone.
“I had just the worst day,” replied the man. “This morning I was up in my plane dusting a field when I nicked a power line and damaged the wing on the plane. When I got back to the office, my boss chewed me out. Then the guy from the FAA chewed me out.
“On my way home, I stopped at a bar and was handed a warm beer. So I yelled at the bartender, ‘Don’t you have any cold beer?!’
“The bartender said, ‘Sorry, but we’ve been out of electricity all day ever since some idiot crop-duster hit a power line down the road.'” Continue reading