Sumer is icumen in, the Olympics are upon us…*

Ergo, we are off on our hols for two weeks. SWMBO is actually sporty in the outdoor sense of tennis and other trivial exertions. For all I know, shagging may have been included in that list of activities: but if so, she'll have to find another (ahem) tennis partner, because I like my comforts: in fact am positively sybaritic about them. Poor Madame, I hear you cry, and petty sloth are you to deny her this. You may have the right of it here. I suppose I shall have to suggest it at some point. But I fear all my good intentions may be mercifully postponed by the rain, God Bless It, as it waters our soggy countryside. Such is life in England.

While we are on our hols, sturdy chaps of craftsman-like appearance are painting the bits that need painting of the house; fixing gateposts should they need such attentions; and dealing with those small plumbing problems which add that necessary frission to every homeowners sense of deep and abiding joy in the temporary stewardship of the money-pit - that is until it gets passed on to the next generation to squander.

I know, after all, I'm of the squandering kind.

Also, I gave away my old Honda. It has finally been supplanted by, of all things, a Lexus RX300. I now drive a Chelsea tractor and cannot look my reflection in the eye. It has a brilliant crash-test rating, drives like a truck, and has certainly stopped me ever exceeding the speed limit. The Honda's 2.2 litre engine produced 150BHP and the car had double wishbones all round. It could do a ton all day, and go around corners quicker than any estate car/station wagon of its period. The Lexus is bigger, safer, and just makes you drive slower.

I should have changed cars sooner, but was emotionally attached to the Honda. Bah. I am become a responsible old man, dammit: if you'll excuse the anachronistic grammar.

Nurse, send in the dancing girls, I'm getting bored.

(no subject)

Erk.

The opening ceremony is getting a trifle Spinal Tap-ish interspersed with a digitised Cadbury's flake advert.

Blipverts, your time has come.