Eliminate! Eliminate!

The Great British Bake-Off
     Required family viewing in Conrad's household, in our newly-re-arranged lounge, where the television sits in the fireplace.  Quite handily, too.
     Anyway, today saw the departure of Rob, even after he managed to make a Biscuit Dalek, which made me laugh out loud (seasoned readers know of my partiality to Doctor Who).  Kimberley had a bit of an off day, Ruby displayed her characteristic nerves, and Glen surprised himself - and the judges - with his biscuit and macaroon helter-skelter.  I also learned of "Tottenham Cake" which I think I've seen before but have never baked.  Maybe next week.


A Nice Cup Of Tea Dalek to go with the Biscuit

The View From My Window

In the foreground: Small Excavator; Large Excavator.  In the background: Enormous crane; Pretty Big crane

That crane from Baldwin's is back, together with it's smaller brother that puts it together.  I assume the bigger, once assembled, is going to lift off the skeletal structure of steel beams from the top of Victoria Station.  Various artisans have been cutting the lengths apart whilst leaving the structure intact.

Where do you go to my lovely?
     As you may already know, Conrad is a creature of routine and habit.  He does not like sudden change, mobile phones or biros.  Still less does he comprehend the value, attraction and status enhancement of the common teaspoon.  I mention this because back in June a host of these heavenly objects suddenly appeared in our office kitchen.

Proof! Proof, I tell you, proof that Conrad is not merely suffering from the vapours.

Today there are none left.  None.  NONE!  Nor has the tin-opener reappeared. The ICC in the Hague has already been notified.

Farewell my lovely
     Today we bade good bye to Emma, who is going on secondment to another part of my Unidentified First-class Organisation.  I had to come up with some doggerel to embarrass her, and I did.

"There was a young lady called Emma
Who suffered from a thorny dilemma.
She couldn't say "No"
When asked "Do you "go"?'
And ended up with a randy young fella."

There was a slightly more tasteful rhyme.   How does it go?  I ripped out the page I composed it on and gave it to her - see if she can decipher Conrad's handwriting!

"We're here to say goodbye to Ryan
A gel who was almost always cryin'
I shall miss her; not for her giggle,
Nor her enthused arm-waving wiggle,
Not for tales of Nana's cod-in-butter,
Nor her sister Claire the utter nutter,
Nor her desire to eat a baby -
(Metaphorically and not with gravy)
I shall miss Emma for her skills
For I shall have to work harder and TAKE LOTS OF PILLS."

So - Tanks?

The Antonov A40.  Is it a bird?  Is it a plane?  No, it's proof that Russians are barmy.

     I don't know anyone who designs armoured fighting vehicles, but I'll bet one of their design dictums is not "Hmmm.  How can we take this enormously heavy object - and make it fly!" 
     I bet they nicked all our spoons.

In case Anna reads this, let us end on an Ahhh! moment.  A lovely cuddly kitten.

Hey, a kitten is still a kitten, right?  Right?  Put down that crucifix whilst I'm talking to you!