Days, Weeks, Christmas And Swimming, By Freya

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This idea of time is a strange thing that takes getting used to. I know there are days when neither I go to school nor Mum and Dad, to work, and I’ve just started using the word “yesterday” in the correct context. There is one day, however, I am more aware of than others: Mondays.
Mondays are, as everyone knows (don’t they?), when we go swimming. For some odd reason I’m offered badges now and again, for doing a few things for my swimming-instructor, Mia. I have no complaints about this, but isn’t it like giving me sweets for eating all my buns?

Today I needed to jump into the swimming-pool three times (why always three?), each time turning around under water and making my way back to the safety of the edge by whatever means necessary; this activity had to be performed without the aid of Mum or Dad.

Anyway, I made my parents very happy and proud by doing what was required of me, and came away with a shiny Blue Crab badge. I do not personally see what a crab has to do with jumping and stuff, though my knowledge of crabs is reasonably limited, blue crabs more so.

I think I shall suggest pinning my ever-growing number of badges on a nice piece of framed padded-velvet or something similar, when I know how to articulate such a request.

A Birthday Wish

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It’s probably too late to start faffing about with my Christmas wish-list. Thankfully, my parents had the foresight to conceive me in time for a post-Christmas birthday, which means that I may be lucky enough to get the “History of Gaming” Quartet pack by the end of January.

I can remember playing Top Trumps when I was a child, and in particular having a penchant for the Military Naval Ships version. Just why, I do not know, since I wasn’t interested in war, or, for that matter, boats. Be that as it may, I played with this deck enough times to still have a vague memory of one of the better cards (a British frigate, I think).

A few Christmases ago I bought Jo a Simpsons variant as a stocking-filler. In total we played it once or twice, and the pack currently lies in a box in our spare bedroom. A sad, but inevitable, end to a game with little replay value.

Now, though, the history of videogames has been immortalised by a Top Trump imitator from Austria. Their website looks shite, though the cards look to be of a good standard, and I want a pack desperately. I’ll just need someone sad enough to play with.

Bursar, Purser And Treasurer Conundrum

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During my 38 years on this earth I have never spent time cogitating the difference between “bursar”, “purser” and “treasurer”. Now, thanks to yourDictionary, I need never do so:

The treasurer of a college or university is often called a “bursar” while the person with the same job on a vessel (air or sea) is a purser. Everywhere else the function is simply that of a treasurer.

Teeth (And A Bit About Eyes, Or Eye)

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I came back from putting Freya to bed this evening and saw Jo in front of the computer watching a Java advert about toothbrushes; this is on a Friday evening, mind, and so near Christmas – Eek!

Thankfully, she was searching for a decent electric-toothbrush for our daughter, and when I say decent I mean Spongebob Squarepants or Dora.

Apparently, and I had no knowledge of this prior to this evening, there are singing toothbrushes for purchase in this techno-fixated world we live in today, or, at least, toothbrushes that play a tune after two minutes’ use. Personally I think Jo is making it all up, but I want, must, believe such a product exists.

Talking techno-shite, I think the world needs a wi-fi toothbrush that feedbacks information to your computer, which then shows a wickedly detailed 3D picture of your teeth, pointing out how effective your brushing has been, at the same time indicating which areas need more attention. Maybe even playing a little tune?

Incidentally, talking of facial parts, I’ve noticed my right eye is shrinking. That’s the impression I get, anyway, and I’ve heard that this kind of thing happens with age. Every time I rub my (right) eye I hear a squidgy sound emanating from it, suggesting a small vacuum (due to a possible ocular shrinkage) filled with liquid.

As long as my eye does not plop out onto the floor during a lesson I’m not unduly worried, though.

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Ho, Ho, Holy Crap, It’s A Christmas Invasion!

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There are two ways to a secure a jubilant Jon at Christmas: buy every game-related item on my wish-list, or take any old shit (carpet-fluff, dog vomit, any Guns N Roses CD) and wrap it carefully in Paper Invaders wrapping paper.

Santa Claus and snowy scenes just don’t stand a chance against this must-have accessory, and it almost seems sacrilege to waste it on something that will end up getting ripped/thrown in the recycling bin after its intended use.

I might just check this site again after the Yule festivities have died down, to see if it ends up in the bargain bins.