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santa is coming
written by Dad on 10th April 2007

Frog dog is still stable, which seems to be more applicable to a horse, but there you go. Actually, he's not that stable but neither would you be with only three legs.

Avid readers there follows...

(not that I'm cross, you understand, but there are references that cross the globe.........sort of)

Taking an interest in how Papersurfer spends his time, I have been looking round the blogs he reads and seeing what generates the most comments.
Apparently if you mention dolphins (see Lucy Pepper - Blogzira - March 28th) this creates loads of interest.
I noticed that the word 'irony' came up quite a lot as a means of explaining the post to the hard of understanding. 'How ironic!' I chuckled, 'this is not irony - 'tis satire!'
I then realised 'twas a typo and should have read 'ironing', obviously referring to the old Filipino (hello Lizza!) method of using captured dolphins as washing machines; it works like this :-

When tunny fishing the odd dolphin gets fished as well. One of the right size is taken back to the village and then suspended in a comfy sling (under a shower of course) with pulleys and bits of rope, with its tail dangling in a barrel. Washing is then put into the barrel with warm water and some 'This will make all the difference eco-friendly I'll have to use twice as much' detergent. The old Filipino then tickles the dolphin's chin. A dolphin will respond to having its chin tickled in much the same way a dog will to having its chest rubbed - its tail goes bananas [sorry Lucy - didn't mean to mention you know what]. The washing is done in no time. Dolphins love the attention and will provide many years of service if treated kindly and fed tins of tuna - [THERE'S irony for you!].
As kitchen papersurfer will tell you it is never necessary to iron. Immediately after rinsing, which the dolphin can help with of course, remove from the bucket/machine, carefully fold and pile. Leave for perhaps as long as one hour then hang out to dry*. Most creases will have vanished. It is possible to teach dolphins how to iron but they don't really enjoy it and I don't like to see them suffer.
*( Highly recommended. This method is a family heirloom, handed down to me by my own dear mother; she used it so successfully that she was able to return the ironing board she had been given as a wedding present to the manufacturer ten years later, still in its original packaging, complaining that it had gone rusty. They sent her a new one. Lo, TG)
Anyway we're not allowed to do this any more as there are Health and Safety issues concerning lifting heavy dolphins and fat people who might get out of breath but it is good to remember the old days and life out east.

sheep

shark

Damien Hirst's attempts to recreate the old art.............................[and there's some sarcasm!]

Next time - Individualism (see Blogzira - March 30th) - Papersurfer's 'Prince Albert Square' [a piercing in the usual place but with an added tattoo of Peggy Mitchell on a v. sensitive part of the anatomy].

written by Smash on 7th April 2007

Shoes have held a fascination for me ever since I was a little girl. I can remember parading up and down on the worn carpet in the shoe shop imagining my life in these shoes and the places I would go in them.
My interest in guys came a lot later on but over the years I have come to realise that both are intertwined in my search for the perfect fit!
Looking in my wardrobe (cum mini shoe mart!) I can see each shoe has it’s own character and identity that can equally match some of the men I have dated along the way...
Some were never meant for the long haul but were bought to be enjoyed for the summer madness, then put to one side with fond memories of good times. Others were practical, reliable and sturdy and ultimately good for you but boring none-the-less with no va va voom or flair to keep you entertained and therefore got relegated to the ‘never to be worn again’ pile! Some have become good friends over the years - old faithfuls that time and time again you can call on at a moments notice, who knows you so well and who you know won’t let you down as they can suit every occasion. These shoes are a rare find and are a benchmark for others to aspire to in the search for the perfect fit!

The hardest ones are the shoes that ‘got away’! When you think you have found your perfect fit, it’s one of the most amazing feelings in the world and grinning like a Cheshire cat you of course believe all things are possible. When that turns out not to be so it’s like a light going off inside you. At such times you feel there is never going to be another magical pair like them again and stop wanting to window shop but if there is something I have learned over time is that never give up on the perfect fit as it is out there somewhere waiting for you. At least I know what I am looking for now as I have road tested a few pairs in my time and have come close to perfection but not obviously not close enough!
So what shoe am I?...
Well, I would like to think I am a handcrafted one off funky sling back wedge with some great detailing, soft lining, good padding where needed who gives the wearer a feeling of ‘coming home’ when they try me on for size. As for me, what am I looking for?...
Well, I want it all (of course!)...
The Cinderella fairytale ending (size 7 glass slipper if anyone is listening!) and if the shoe fits? Like the fairytale says everyone gets to live ‘happily ever after’.
THE END.

PS. I didn’t’t surf today (to be honest I don’t know how) but I did get to think about fab shoes and smile a lot!

written by Dad on 4th April 2007

Frog dog is feeling better, he smells a lot but dogs do that.
Avid readers

Captain's Blog - Stardate 1066 :- The day started as usual going around Uranus and wiping out Klingons when we flew into a televisual anomaly that appeared to resemble Richard Whitely ...

It seemed I was in a courtroom. On, what I assumed to be the bench, were Captain Scarlet, Admiral Adama and a doctor, whom I didn't recognise. Buffy and Angel were prowling round making sure that uninvited guest bloggers didn't get in - it looked like a stakeout. The crew of Serenity, armed to the teeth were also on duty, stopping anyone who aimed to misbehave. The jury consisted of twenty-two identical sealed boxes, except they weren't, they all had different numbers on them, and Jeremy Clarkson was in discussion with Scotty. I overheard him saying - "and the engine sounded like a dwarf in leg irons going round in a washing machine."
Captain Scarlet addressed me although I thought I could get myself home.

"The reason you are here Daddy Papersurfer is because of your ' unmown around conduct '."

My ' unmown around conduct '?.......... what does that mean?......... what are they talking about? Have I been remiss when I cut the grass? Did I not finish the edges properly? Were there areas that I missed completely?........

My brain hurt, not unusual of course, and then suddenly it kicked in like a legume on fire!........ 'unmown around conduct' was 'a countdown conundrum'!!!

"Your honour, I would like to call Uma Thurman."

The bailiff, who looked a lot like one of the Teletubbies, announced that Uma couldn't appear because she was in the bath.

"Bring her in anyway" ordered the Doctor.

The doors flew open and in came...................I felt a shooting pain in my shin and I opened my eyes. "Where's my camomile tea?" It was the terrible Goddess. Apparently I had dozed off in front of the box........ oh well.

If Papersurfer continues being tolerant I shall speak to you again.

Future topics 'Why the Austin Maxi was a great car' and ' Will avocado bathroom suites make a comeback?'

written by Dad on 28th March 2007

Frog dog (he doesn't belong to us any more then the budgie did), has dislocated one of his back legs. Master Tiggz and I took him to the vet where it was relocated. We are hoping it's not going to be a case of relocation, relocation, relocation - I'll keep you informed.
Avid readers there follows a shocking story -

Papersurfer came to stay recently and as usual asked Mac to access his emails, book flights etc.. It was only minutes before he rounded on me. "It's rubbish - it shouldn't be behaving like this - it's laggy - why don't you get it sorted?!!!" "Calm down dear" I replied. "First of all he's not an it; approach with love and all will be fine. He was behaving very well yesterday", thinking, of course, that Mac doctors in the UK are as common as human beings that don't break wind; the beach ball of death has been appearing a little too often; I can't really be bothered and anyway as soon as Papersurfer isn't looking I'll throw the switch off and on - Mac loves that, as I've explained before. Time passes and with gnashing teeth and hypertension Penfold continues working with Mac.

As soon as Papersurfer left to fly back to Surfugal I accessed the secret spy mode on Google - 'see recent searches'. This is what I discovered in reverse chronological order:

'plasma televisions' - bless him, he's thinking about Father's Day [see previous guest blog].

'luxury holidays in New Zealand' - a belated Ruby wedding anniversary present for the terrible Goddess and me!!!!!!

'inheritance tax' - gosh, he is growing up

'probate' - this is getting very middle aged

'humanist funerals' - I thoroughly approve

'cheap one way, tickets Switzerland/Holland' - there's not much surf there..... odd

'euthanasia' - oh dear

'hang gliding lessons' - that can be v. dangerous can't it?!

'teflon coated slippers' - eh?

'm.o.'s of unsolved murders' - ....................................................................... you bastard!

I meant to save these 'see recent searches' as evidence but during one of my random clicking sessions they disappeared. Thank you Mac for giving us a heads up and if I ever manage to get this published you, avid readers, might be called as witnesses - the terrible Goddess and I would appreciate your support. With some trepidation I must leave you now and hope that there will be an opportunity to speak to you again - Daddy Papersurfer

P.S. If you're looking for a picture similar to the one above, never, and I mean NEVER EVER, Google ' private dicks '.

Next time ' For those of you who feel the cold - how to accelerate global warming'

written by Dad on 19th March 2007
By the way, the budgie didn't belong to us. Avid readers, the blog today comes from someone who hasn't been there, certainly didn't do THAT and only buys his T-shirts from M&S

The White Queen in conversation with Alice - "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." Below are mine for the day.

1. That next father's day, Papersurfer and Tiggz will combine their considerable buying power and get me a 42" Plasma surround sound television with a HD DVD player/recorder.

2. That beautiful women around the world find old, greying, toothless men highly attractive.

3. That before Kitchen Papersurfer [Lo, she is a terrible Goddess] reads the above, I'll remember to put shin pads on. (Too late already. Lo, TG [Ed.])

4. That I'll go the whole day without making a double entendre.

5. That our president, Tony Blur, will answer a straight question with a straight answer.

' Tony, would you like a cup of tea?'

' I would like to answer by pointing out that over 90% of patients in NHS hospitals now drink tea, and that the early-morning-cup-of-tea startup programme - incidentally opposed by my colleagues on the other side of the chamber - has been proved to be very successful; the number of serious crimes involving tea bags has fallen dramatically over the past 10 years; the enquiry commission regarding Earl Grey and his generous donations will report in the early spring and finally, I would like to add that our plans for identity cards will now require information on milk and sugar preferences.

6. That 4 10 12 28 45 48 will be the winning numbers on the lottery this week.

I must go now - I haven't had my breakfast yet - thanks White Queen.

Next time ' Can ginger nuts be cured?'

[Oh bother, there goes number 4.............and ouch, see number 3]

written by Dad on 14th March 2007
Avid readers, something has crept up on my consciousness - not the budgie of course, he is no more and we must accept that.

I have noticed that the papersurfer blog has little content about surfing; I think that should be redressed and I am the one to do it. So today we will look at the evidence that

I am afraid that I'll have to concentrate on male surfers as the female of the species is a very rare part of my experience, particularly when dressed in rubber. 

1. I have seen some of the surfing magazines that belong to Papersurfer and after intensive research I have worked out that there are, on average, 1.68 images of the female form in each issue - pitiful!
2. Most images are of men in rubber or very roomy shorts, standing on surfboards apparently drying either their deodorant or their fingernails.
3. At the beach, there is an awful lot of posturing, stretching, bending over and eyeing up the competition.
4. When in the water, hair gets tousled and more time is spent with the surfboard between their legs than under their feet.
5. Wax is used (friction not lubrication which is very indicative of Needs).
6. When not wallowing about in the water shirts are very garish and there is a lot of talk about fashion and whether or not to shave their chests. There is more time spent having a lovely chat than is normal among blokes.
7. Having returned from the water, the towel action is little too vigorous.
8. Given a choice between an invitation from a drop dead gorgeous girl to go with her to a tranquil forest for a gentle stroll and an intimate picnic, and going to a beach 3 hours drive away, on the off chance that the surf might be OK , I know which the surfer would choose.
(There is a lot more evidence but my self appointed editor (Lo, she is a terrible Goddess) has forbidden it on the grounds of decency and possible litigation )
Come on guys, the evidence is there and you shouldn't feel ashamed - emerge from the clothing racks, let the vests be brash, don't sink the pink. Look to the header of the papersurfer blog as an example of letting it all out and remember, when the water is really cold you can impress your new friends with judicious wadding.

Daddy Papersurfer (If Papersurfer agrees to publish this, it'll mean he's after something - I'll let you know)

Next time 'Recipes for vegans - are they better steamed or boiled?'

written by Dad on 6th of March 2007

I've returned the dead budgie to Northiam, the cryogenic facility has resumed it's normal function, so I may begin... avid readers todays blog is -

I have taught my children all that I know and still they know nothing. I taught them their first words, " Dad, that hurts! ". I taught them how to breed budgies, inadvertently using two cock birds. It took them several years to work out why this money making scheme was slow off the ground but when they did, and told me, they learnt another word, " Dad, that really hurts! ". I taught them to love , respect and appreciate the visual arts by producing art before their very eyes. Below is a picture of a sculpture I created recently. It is made of copper and lead with a wooden former. It is called 'Lead Banana' because it is made of lead. It has an alternate title, ' Lead Banana ', for obvious reasons. It comes with a health warning - trying to see the point might induce headaches.

lead banana

Others are: disorientation can be caused by constant raising of the eyebrows, ecstasy can induce heart attacks (gob smacked is not a medical condition so don't worry) and so on. This will soon be the most influential work of art in the world. Let me explain - in easy stages, as I know papersurfer readers get water in their ears. 

1. Next time you eat a banana try and make a copy of this sculpture 

2. Notice how many folds of skin there are and the relation of the stalk to the curve of the banana (try to do this without sniggering about phallic symbols and four skins). 

3. Tell your friends about it. Around 140 million bananas are sold each week in the UK - more than 7 billion each year. Even allowing for wastage, that's a lot of bananas! 

If everyone changes their banana habits think about these figures and what influence and power I'll have. Those of you who know Papersurfer or Number One son will now be starting to see why they are like they are........I'm sorry. 

Remember 'laughter is the best medicine........ unless you have syphilis in which case go with penicillin'. 

Possibly look forward to ' How to identify a cock from a mile away'.

written by Dad on 28th February 2007

I apologise for the tardiness of my long awaited guest blog (a brilliant idea I must say) but I had to go to Northiam to pick up a cage with a dead budgie in it, bring it home and put it in the freezer. Not the cage of course, that would be silly - it's a long story......anyway here we go...

Avid readers my blog is entitled...

Number 1 son has a brain the size of a planet, the orbit of which causes him to disappear for months at a time. Number 2 son, aka Papersurfer, has a brain the size of a planet, the orbit of which is fairly predictable except when surf's up .

My wife (Lo, she is a terrible Goddess), has a brain the size of a planet, the orbit of which obeys no scientific principle. I have a brain the size of a planet, a small planet the size and texture of a marrowfat pea, the orbit of which is stationary. It has been weighed. It has been measured. It has been found wanting. Mac is our computer. It has a mind of it's own. It's probably got an orbit but it won't let me in on it.

Number 1 son has no relationship with Mac because he's very PC.

My wife's (Lo, she is a terrible Goddess) relationship with Mac doesn't quite invoke the green eyed monster in me, but they do get on awfully well. She has built websites, created spread sheets larger than the garden, got Mac to remind me to empty the dustbin on Fridays and I'm sure I spotted him putting some washing in the machine the other day. My relationship with Mac is OK, although I'm sure he would like to do more than send emails for me or allow me to read the excellent papersurfer blog.

Number 2 son's relationship with Mac is complicated and borders on the neurotic. Not all Macs; indeed it was on his suggestion that we went down the Mac road as he thought it most suitable for people with 'limited abilities'. When Papersurfer is out of the country Mac behaves beautifully. Fast, responsive and eager to please. Sometimes he sulks of course but a session on the naughty step, achieved by disconnecting him from the national grid, always does the trick. He returns with a spring in his step, almost drooling over the desk. When Papersurfer enters the house, Mac knows - he goes slow however hard you boot him. He sulks, applications quit or won't quit, all the pictures on iPhoto turn sepia and he changes the password for the connection to our internet provider. Papersurfer goes puce. He stares like a man possessed. He throws things. He stamps and cries. He blames me.I have tried to explain to him that everything in the world responds to love and respect and that you have to have a real understanding of how things operate to get the best from them but to little avail. [I had to explain to both my sons how CDs work relating it to the molecular structure of clay - they both took it in - actually laughed, it was so much fun] I think that, for the time being, I'll keep Mac & Papersurfer separated. I don't like seeing either of them upset, particularly Mac.

That's it for the moment. I've just noticed it's time for Countdown, followed by Deal or No Deal and then Richard and Judy. It doesn't get much better than this!

Possibly look forward to ' The absolute necessity of not speaking foreign languages'

Diary of a middle aged surfer aged 38 and a half...

It's a strange life. Well not strange for me, as I'm used to it, but most casual bystanders would find the whole thing quite bemusing I'm sure. I live in the middle of Portugal. There isn't a golf course or pint of Boddingtons in earshot. Ryan Air haven't found anywhere to land and the road-signs are still indigenous. Trees, mountains, rivers. Nature and that. Spectacular.

Why am I here? That's not really the issue, the point of discussion is what the hell am I still doing here fifteen years down the line? It probably won't help to utter a prepubescent grunt and go and sulk in my bedroom, mostly as I don't have a bedroom at the moment. Well, not strictly true, I have a bedroom, but I seem to be missing a door, a couple of windows and most definitively - a bed. So, here I sit in my parents house, a stone's throw away - a 38 year old man living in his mum's house. Sad but true. Where did it all go wrong?

About Penfold

Previously...

My family and Mac The power of Art Surfers are very camp Good advice Good advice the spy strange cobblers cross

Archive

winter06/07

blogs I read

Blogzira
Surf nation
Follow that elephant
Barrister blog
Treehouse surfer
Verbalism
Regular Jen
Boob pencil
My own drum
Wife in the north
Living for disco
Quinta das abelhas
My boyfriend is a twat
Petite Anglaise
Paula the surf Mom
Troubled diva
I am woman - see me blog