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PAYTON L. INKLETTER


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Saturday, May 30, 2009

ROUEN: “We’ll all be rouened” said Hanrahan, “before Joan of Arc’s flames are out”; or did he? Payton L. Inkletter muses twixt Callixtus 3 and Cauchon


Be all that as it may, meanwhile:


In other news…

30th May 2009:


Saturday: I know what many millions among my billions of daily readers are thinking right now: when will Payton exclaim “It’s Sarrerdi!”; well, just for that, I’m not going to now! Hrumphhh!


I dragged myself out from between the low thread count polycottons upon the demand of the alarm, which is so raucous I touch cloth most times it goes off. It was eleven, and I wasn’t convinced the sun rises that early. However, sunlight or no, I had to scamper around and get ready for a picnic with The Babies and Pa pree in Kings Park. I had committed to pick up Pa pree at a quarter to one, and so getting to him before one was quite an achievement for me.


Those billions not familiar with Perth’s climate will wonder what’s the big deal, mainly sunny, dry, and has been this way for about a week, get a life Inkletter. However, when the following facts are inserted into the montage you, like me, will doubtless be heading straight to get a cocoa, neat: in two days’ time it will be winter, and June is the wettest month on average, and we’ve had sweet fanny-all this year, which also explains why I’m having my cocoa dry, the brown Homebrand stuff snorted from a tablespoon through a leaf of toilet paper, for even five dollar notes can be hard to find.


And so we had a marvellously lovely time in the park, because it was bloody warm (almost 27 Celsius!), bloody dry, and bloody sunny mainly, apart from when it wasn’t sunny (!). Also a million other folk, tourists, wogs, wops, and wallies decided to descend upon Kings Park as well; remember, some of my best friends are wogs, and I invest the term with dollops of love, compassion, and shit stirring.


The Babies Ink&Peggletter met us there in the carpark of the toffee-nosed restaurant, and it was not a small relief, for the calibre of the reasoning inhabiting one side of the discussion and debate on the drive was little short of atrocious; the subjects having ranged from climate change to economics to leadership to the virtues. We found an empty table up near the area where poor Corryn Rayney’s murdered body was found, but that fact did not take away from the very pleasant picnic we had under the shade close to Saw Avenue and May Drive corner. After the victuals we walked near by taking photos of Payton the Koala Bear, Bartholemew ‘Bomber’ Inkletter, Basil Montgomery Inkletter, and Baby Inkletter the Koala Bear, as well as ourselves, some very striking tree trunks, and Baby Peggletter even caught the human Baby Inkletter on video, beating Payton the Koala Bear with a blackboy flower stalk (oh dear, how non-PC of me!) while he was perched in a peppermint tree. To those who don’t know the blackboy plants – several similar looking species of the Xanthorrhoea genus – their flower stalks can reach over ten feet in length, and two inches diameter, and when dry are light and reasonably tensile. So it constitutes cruelty to stuffed animals to beat one with a blackboy flower stalk.


We finished our afternoon together by visiting the recently transplanted boab tree from the Kimberley closer to the main entrance to the park, and it has taken root. It’s a mere 750 years old, and was but a seedling when I was a boy. A visiting foursome of wrinklies, a bit older than moi, got me to take some photos of them, and they took some photos of me with Payton the Koala Bear, all in front of fatso flora. The one lady asked me if my photos were for a website; how prescient of her, and I gave her the google terms that would find my site. The local couple had Irish visitors with them. They were good sports, and accepted my commiserations regarding how hard Ireland has been hit economically.


Pa pree and I got back home about half five. I left him at his place and came home to try to catch a badly needed hour’s nap, but sleep would not descend from cosy heaven. I got back up and did some work on a composite photo for the header of my ‘In other news…’ page, which is header photoless. I zoomed around to Pa pree with his din dins just before seven, then dashed back to catch My Beloved, and then, while eating my own vittles, laughed and laughed watching Kath and Kim, the episode called ‘Lust’. The laughs continued with the Vicar of Dibley, but I was falling asleep by this time. And I was watching it on commercial television, ughh! spit, spit, teerrruuhhhh! At least during the interminable ad breaks I was playing a recording of Letterman I’d missed a week or so ago; I got a lot watched, given the length of the ads…


I battled with the usual health problems, and later descended upon the poota to write, with my fifties and sixties music massaging my ears, heart, and soul. All the while a headache was intensifying behind my eyes and forehead; if I had a dollar for every time this has happened, or for every hour it’s lingered, I’d be a rich man.


Umple Dais got back from Thailand early this morning, with a cold, but apparently it is not likely to be swine flu, having passed through the temperature detectors successfully. He will keep his distance from Pa pree as a precaution though.


I managed a dual posting, and various online researches, as well as downloaded the video of the First Tuesday Bookclub episode of early May which I missed recording the beginning of: my plan is to watch the first ten minutes on this here poota, then the rest in the relative comfort and quality of the lounge and its DVD recorder and TV setup. Seeing the 96 Meg file fly down like a hawk warms the cockles of my heart, given the more than decade of interminably slow dial up speeds I’ve lived with. I’ve deliberately kept my 24/7 running Netants throttled back to 7 kbs all this Optus billing cycle, so that I’ll keep the top speed for the month. I will likely let it rip on the last day, and use up my 30 Gig allowance, thus amassing much more of Librivox’s wonderful talking books, of which I have at this moment 1304 chapters of in Netants’ queue, and then before the new cycle begins I’ll be able to test how the 256 kbs throttled back speed loads web pages. A good test is my very own main site, still data heavy, which used to take several minutes to load on dial up, but with our Optus Yass!Fusion plan in unthrottled mode it’s taking about 30 seconds. When I do things for Pa pree on his poota, I am hit in the face with a wet salmon at the grindingly slow dial up speeds he suffers, which is from ISP Lizzy – but he pays only $9 monthly for 6 hour sessions, so who’s complaining justly?


I attended to a frivolous spat between KoolKoala and Gladys Hobson with their comments at my Visitors’ Book; I’m wondering whether I should remove comments moderation and let folk rip instantly? I think I just will, like it is with my ‘In other news…’ site, the one you’re likely reading this very entry on now. If problems arise, I can always delete problematic comments, and reinstate the comments moderation setting. And this is not to suggest for a second that Gladys or KoolKoala ever have been problematic: quite the opposite, they’re a lot of fun, and currently are trading punches in verse. Hey, I just was away for few minutes taking the comments moderation setting off the Visitors’ Book – where angels fear to tread…


Believe it or not, after some late telly watching (too physically weary to walk) of my recorded programs backlog, and a bit of someone I’d never heard of, one of those early Sunday morning Christian shows, a young fellow with the weird name of Shawn Boonstra – who spoke some sense despite obviously being at least somewhat a literal scripture believer (‘Christian Dogs: The Commandment Against Murder’ was the title to his talk, and he explained some sound psychological principles. Lest the religious macadamias bellow that I believe more in psychology than in God, I’ll now give them this corrective: sound psychology comes from God) – yes, believe it or not, I didn’t hit the soft sack till almost six, with dawn not long away. No puppyfat piranha to cuddle, but nevermind…

+paytontedwithlove+

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