Today dear friends you find me typing this blog under duress, and with a one-handed disability.
It is twisted painfully by Mrs GOF somewhere up in the vicinity of my shoulder blades. She still sees nothing funny in me having let loose in public a fictitious little story about her New Year’s debauchery as outlined in my previous blog entry “Bilge soup”.
In partial recompense for that incy wincy faux pas and apparent crime against marital solidarity, I firstly have to apologise for;
“all the shameless self promotion and propaganda that you write in Your Stupid Bucket, GOF” in bold font, and then sit here until I compose, to her satisfaction, an introduction to some of her happy snaps….OUCH!.……sorry…..photographs.
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Mrs GOF’s early life, which included an idyllic childhood and carefree adolescence, came to a rather abrupt and unfortunate end after 20 years, when, during a slight lapse of attention and total failure of all her oddball-detector alarm systems, she allowed GOF to intrude himself into it.
She has spent the remainder of her life engaging in pastimes to distract herself from all the catastrophic consequences which this single moment of poor judgment brought about.
Firstly came pregnancy and childbirth, the physical discomfort of which was a price she considers well worth paying to hatch our precious bundle of joy, concomitant with a bonus 16 years respite from full-time GOF torment.
All of that was taken away from her one day early in the twenty-first century when Globet levitated briefly, then was whisked away like a dandelion seed in a puff of post-pubescent wind, high into the jetstream of progeny distribution which ultimately deposited her gently and permanently some 2000 kilometres away from the distraught womb of Globetal conception.
Globet was then replaced by a camera.
I deliberately choose not to make any comparisons between these two commodities, primarily on the grounds that one day I would like to be incarcerated in a relatively humane old-folks home.
Without further ado I proudly introduce the first selection from Mrs GOF’s most recent GOF-avoidance project.
Perhaps with my encouragement she will achieve the same standard of perfection which resulted from the first.
Well I’ll be damned!
I think I just shot and bagged two Brownie Point Birds with a single slug.