Breaking Bad, The Lonely Boot,Rosetta Stone and Shouting about Shouting.

It has been half term or what the mature students call reading week. Two of the glorious grandsons were home and retired to their sleeping quarters for long periods for what they called study. They emerged to eat occasionally looking shell shocked. I discovered that what they were really doing was watching Breaking Bad, which has forty episodes. As a story teller, I can tell you it is completely addictive and has a complex story line which is sheer genius, Wagnerian in its convoluted metaphors. The Sainted One and moi ration ourselves to one session with the box set per week. If ever you want to get a child off drugs this is the way to go!!! But then it is like all rehab, it substitutes one obsession for another.

One of the grandsons implied surprise that I had not expressed enough emotion about his departure for university, actually this is not true, I got rather depressed when he left, and often go into his room just to check that his things are there. This week my cleaning assistant and moi did a deep litter clean in the sleeping quarters. We are used to lonely socks, there is an ever growing octopus of these in a drawer, but odd size one hundred boots are quite another thing. There are many pairs in that room and one did not have a mate, so we threw it away. When the carpet cleaner came of course, we found the other one. It was decided to throw it away as well to hide the evidence of the ruthless culling. This kept me awake, and so I came down in the night before the sanitary engineers came to search the refuse. The pair are now united and merrily and conspicuously left on the landing, just to remind everyone of what a marvellous person I am.

A lovely visit to my extended family in Rome reminded me yet again of what a beautiful language Italian is, and how moronic I am not to speak it, considering that I have been surrounded by Italians for most of my life, so there I am with Rosetta Stone attached to my head. The day will come, oh yes it will when some of the secret conversations that take place will be busted, so watch out people!

The S.O . has been working in a manic faze clearing up the debris from the garden after a once in a twenty year pruning . He is more of an under the carpet type whereas moi likes it all out in the open in every sense of the word, so there is an air of disapproval. One area in which he does not hold back is the public address mode. By and large I am a public meeting and must be shouted at and down, plus all points must be gone over and queried. There was even lot of shouting about not shouting because I complained about this This is what politicians do of course, and once they learn the technique you will never change them. Twenty years out of that place, I am still being shouted at, as I am a deaf mute at the back of a village hall. Rosetta Stone is the way forward for me, I have suddenly seen this a reply in Italian would be excellent, but Rosetta will not have quite the repertoire… I called someone an arsehole in Italian the other day “Don Coglione,”  I meant to liken them to the Godfather of course … get out your dictionary!! Don Corleone.

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