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Monday, June 22, 2009

CANBERRA: “Calling the poor bastard ‘Hansard’s antsy Grechel’ is taking it too far!” Payton L. Inkletter gingers in defence of Treasury’s Godwin Grech

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

22nd June 2009:

Monday: Beta state knocked on the door of my mind about 8, despite the fact that I felt I needed another eight hours. A tinkle, then a vain attempt to fall back asleep, convincing me that ’twas time to face the day. I left the cataclysmic kitten purring in the cot, and began to coax life into my frame. I sent an email to my cousin Vee for an update on how he’s going, and cleaned up the kitchen, and pottered around until finally being presentable to drive to Guildford. Meanwhile, Janny had taken the Supreme Leader to the local shops and returned with him to spend the afternoon here.

Before I forget: the headline I posted for last Friday, ‘IPSWICH: “Granted, Godwin Grech does resemble Gollum, but heck, he doesn’t really live ten floors beneath Treasury, does he?” asks Payton L. Inkletter’, can probably already go down in history at Fool’s Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring as having the most hits from searches of any of my posts, and it’s been up for barely two days. I hope the poor bastard, Godwin that is – or as he’s otherwise known, ‘Hansard's antsy Grechel’, gets through all this pressure okay, assuming he is an innocent victim of all the shenanigans behind Utegate; come to think of it, even if he’s not as pure as the driven snow, I wish him well nevertheless; I feel this way about everyone, and if there’s any new leaf turning required for any of us, I wish for that also.

A still cool day, as if our locale was taking stock, holding it’s breath, before launching it the long journey back to the high noon of the summer solstice in six months’ time. Bob was his usual control freak self, delightful nevertheless, and he punished the water at Swan Aquatic. I was feeling so foggy that I did no writing, rather I read, mainly from Douglas AdamsHitchhiker’s Guide…, and I laughed and smiled so many times. There was an author we could have done with telling stories for another fifty years…

On the way to Fish Market Reserve at dark Bob snapped another classic at me, and it was something like “Gee you carry on!” Whatever it was (and one day I hope to feel certain I’ve remembered just what he said) and after the momentary offense it began to tickle me greatly; you would have to know Bob to understand how incredibly funny he can be in total unawareness, often supercharged by the sheer irony of what he can say.

I was very relieved to get home just after seven, and was in two minds as to whether to go straight to bed or eat, but the tantalising kitchen-talented temptress put the heat on me, and I felt that if I refused her victuals it’d be a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire, so succumbing with feeble protest, I endured a huge plate of delicious roast chicken fare, watching My Beloved and Kerry the Great’s 7.30 Report – that thing on his head looking most svelte tonight – with Pa pree. The entire report was devoted to Kevin Rudd and Malcom Turnbull defending their respective positions regarding Godwin Grech’s recollections concerning THAT email and such, while the nation needs full attention on the things that really matter.

After a Moccona coffee was forced upon me, and I consumed it out of fear of offending the serendipitously soliloquacious sizzlepot, I then almost had to be carried to the cot, though it was but a whisker past eight, and I insisted in being tucked in and having bedtime story read to me, and a commitment to wake me for Lateline. Aided with white comforters, I plunged into my long time Mistress Nodette’s embrace immediately…

Janny did wake me for Lateline, but cleverly closed the door straight away, and I drifted back into sleep. Then, as is the story of my recentish life, I woke at about half two with no chance of returning to sleep – one can just tell…

So I spent the entire night from this point writing, punctuated by health problems and fruit and cheese consumption. I also read a long email that cousin Vee sent me, delineating the challenges he’s been and still is going through with his recent radiotherapy treatment. As dawn broke, it revealed a very grey and heavy sky, with just a touch of angst in the jittery light breeze, and laden with the promise of rain…



Gladys Hobson said...

Nice to read what you have been up to while we have been on a week's holiday (just 50 miles away up in the Lake District). Sorry about your various afflictions (and you friend's too).
I like your new header - clear and 'clean cut' and full of interest.

Payton L. Inkletter said...

Gladys: Lucky ducks gallivanting around the magical Lake District!
Thanks for your empathy, and I'm glad you like the header, the one with the Ferris wheel methinks you mean; it is a view from Perth's Esplanade looking slightly east of south, taking in the Barrack Street Jetty and the Swan Bells tower, housing the gifted bells of St Martin-in-the-Fields, London, the city's high rise behind the Esplanade.

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