JANE BROOK: “My missus is the most perfect woman in the world,” shares a pensive Payton L. Inkletter, sucking a lemon so bitter it hurts: “Ouch baby!”

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

16^th February 2009:

Monday: Happy birthday Missus Inkletter! No doubt the floodgates of Paradise and the six heavens underneath will open today.

Janny was happy with my card and gift, and that made me happy. I cleaned up the kitchen, and did a cowboy water outside, and then took off for Guildford on this mild summer’s day, to take Bob to Perth. I was tired from the poor sleep last night. At Bob’s I learned that for the second time in less than a week he had played up, smashing things, just last night this time. The theory is that his housemate Jason’s recent holiday has made him envious, and he has reacted in the way that comes easiest to him. He has, as a result of this misbehaviour, had a privilege removed from him, but not had his outings with me withdrawn, which is good of the team there at Guildford.

We trained to Perth city, and it was lovely and refreshing in the strong sea breeze that went through the skyscraper canyons like medicine. Bob had his lunch in his usual spot in Supreme Court Gardens, and I was able to admire the only remaining ancient clump of Bambusa balcoa, and some huge new culms, which make mine look like twinkies. They had a lovely red orange shade in their bud sheaths, whatever the correct name for them is: I really should know – if you know, please let me know. We took a ride on the Red Cat this time, and before we knew where we were it was time to head back to Guildford.

I finally got back to our neck of the woods about half seven, picking up Pa pree Inkletter and bringing him to our place. The Babies Ink&Peggletter arrived to have din dins with us to celebrate Janny’s birthday soon after, and they gave her a fabulous food processor, our first ever, and a beautiful large framed photo of a most handsome couple, the Inkletters ourselves no less, taken last month in our lounge by Baby Inkletter. It was a gorgeous surprise. We will put it up on the family gallery north wall in the self same lounge.

Janny’s meal was delish as usual, a chicken thingy and polenta meal, with birthday chocolate cake courtesy of the Babies. We played one of our great favourite games, Absolute Balderdash, won again by Baby Inkletter, who uncannily can attribute almost every time each one of our fabrications to the fabricator. They left before eleven, returning Pa pree on their way.

We were very tired, but I managed to catch Tony Jones’ interview with Stanford Professor John Taylor, on Lateline. If you get two economists agreeing, pinch yourself; however, he did seem to have a strong point – if he’s not fooling with us – that research establishes that tax cut income leads to more consumption than one-off lump sums. I couldn’t move, so eventually Letterman was on, and despite falling asleep for part of it – while Missus Inklexhausted slept for an hour in her Ibis – I was struck by how very relaxed and jolly Dave was with Martha Stewart, and how natural she was with him.

I was way too whacked to walk, but despite Missus Inklehornybeast encouraging me to hit the sackcloth with her, I forced myself to rally, helped by white comforters, and attend to some of the blog jobs piling up here. It was a fillip to get Gladys Hobson’s Visitors’ Book comment this morning threatening me with being thrown in her tower if she is prevented from contributing to the progressive story ‘Venty Still’, so I answered that comment. Any such interest, as many writers should attest, is a morale boost.

+paytontedwithlove+