Oh dear. I appear to have chopped my leg off.

That's an example people. I'm setting the tone. Practising even. Don't you think that if I'd actually chopped my leg off, you'd have heard me swearing my head off? Exactly.


So, what's the grand occasion I'm practising for?

My parents are coming up to visit this weekend, which means that I have been, as usual pre-parental visit, in intensive training for pretending that I don't have a potty-mouth.

My parents have a strong objection to potty-mouths, and certainly don't have them themselves. Well, that I've heard anyway. Who knows what Mum actually says if she stabs herself with her pruning shares while doing the gardening and no one's around. It's like the old 'If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it' debate. Personally, I just can't see how when you do yourself bodily injury 'Stone the crows' could be perfectly adequate. If nothing else, it's a nightmare to say five times fast.

Heaven knows, when I dropped a roll of Butynol rubber (35kgs worth) on my foot at work the other week, 'Stone the crows' was neither the first thought I had, nor the expression that left my mouth and reached the ears of everyone over a five mile radius. Then again, 'stone the crows' isn't an expression that usually leaves my mouth anyway. Why would it when there are other perfectly adequate, exceptionally colourful, nice offensive phrases to use instead?

Having said all that, my parents have actually all but given up on my potty-mouth, and I'm pretty sure that they arrive with ear plugs in hand these days. I try, but more often than not, I fail miserably, well within hearing range. They'd much rather I didn't have a potty-mouth, of course, but have largely resigned themselves to the fact (doesn't mean I can't make the effort though, you know how it is) and now simply despair of how I turned out how I did. I know that they despair of this because I usually hear at least once a visit, "I really don't know how you turned out how you did". 100% of the time it's my mother saying this of course, while Dad just either sniggers in the corner (out of swotting reach of Mum) or pretends that his ears fell off in 'nam (I figure that since he didn't go to 'nam, and I don't swear ever, it's a fair trade).

Bring on the weekend!


Off on a completely different tangent, I am horrified to admit that I really like the High'n'Dry that I've been driving around the last couple of weeks (courtesy car while the garage continues to break my VW). Once upon a time (as in a couple of weeks ago) I wouldn't have touched one with someone else's barge pole, but that little car isn't half bad. It has cup holders for one, but most significantly, it's done more kms on half a tank than I get out of a full tank in the VW! I said to Al last night that if I get 700kms out of a tank in the High'n'Dry, I'm going to faint. I've just hit 400km and I have half a tank of gas left, so it's looking possible. Unbelievable!