By the Way

In case you're wondering - Tuppence swam back to shore. He's still on his health and fitness drive, and was determined to show off his prowess.
"For pity's sake," we shouted, as he prepared to jump overboard just as the "Hebridean Princess" bore down upon the coracle, "Don't be foolish, Tuppence. Nobody could care less about your prowess."
But our words were drowned out by the ear-splitting honking of the boat's fog horn, and the horrified screams of the passengers as the coracle was sucked into the wake and chopped into a million pieces by the whirling propellors.
He returned late last night, none the worse and unbearably full of himself. And amazingly, his wool was bone dry.
"See, uncle Tuppy? I'm in terrific shape. A quick five mile swim in the icy waters of the Minch is just the ticket. Dr Wilson..." (at this point, Geoffrey and I sighed loudly, and spat into the fire)"...Dr Wilson has started up compulsory body pumping classes, followed by a glass of black carrot juice, colonic irrigation and a ten mile hi-energy jog along the cliffs. I'm all for it. Besides, he sez anyone who doesn't take part, will..."
At this juncture, a familiar face, or rather, hooded head, appeared at the open window. It was the freakin' Reaper - again.
"Why bother with all that rubbish? You might as well relax, put your feet up and eat chips. After all, you're all going to die anyway!" and he laughed his horrible, hollow, echoing laugh as he glided off.
"I think a quick snifter's in order," I murmured, reaching for the madeira. "By the way, Tuppence - why isn't your wool soaking wet, after your five mile swim? it's not acrylic, by any chance?" I sniggered in an unpleasant, snide kind of way.
"Don't snigger like that," scolded Geoffrey. "You're lowering yourself to his standards. There's absolutely no need. Besides, you're right. It IS acrylic. Look!"
Tuppence was unzipping his "wool" which, it turns out, is actually an acrylic fleece-style zip-up jacket. Beneath that, he was wearing a "dry suit" and a jet-propelled life jacket.
"You didn't think I'd go out in that holey old coracle unprepared, did you, uncle Tuppy?"

Disaster

What a disaster. Me and Geoffrey ended up going slightly "off piste" due to "someone" stopping rowing (he blames me, but he's completely wrong - as usual!! he nodded off due to the "intense heat"/over-ingestion of madeira (we'd found a loose barrel floating in the Bay, and tied it on to the painter), but he'll never admit it. Of course, I would NEVER let HIM down by doing such a thing.) and us ending up going round in circles.
Upshot was, we ended up "Overthere" for pity's sake, and barged into the path of an oncoming Calmac ferry. We were then dragged on board by the scruffs of our necks by the over-zealous crew - to prevent us being sucked into the propellors, apparently.
Once on board, we hoped for a triple brandy snifter AT LEAST, but instead we were offered a strange brew which they referred to as "koffy" - the most disgusting concoction I have EVER tasted. It was "served" in a cardboard-style cup, and came spurting out of a "Jackson"-style boiler/machine, and tasted like...well, what I would imagine (not that I want to) whatever revolting sludge lurks at the arse end of the Fulmar's septic tank. Regular passengers are charged the princely sum of £1.55 for it! (£ = munny BTW)
Anyway - after the utter indignity of being placed in the hold as "livestock", we managed to jump ship and make our way back to the Rocky Outcrop, where we are now sitting toasting out feet by a roaring driftwood fire and sipping mugs of boiling madeira (not actually boiling as such - we wouldn't want to boil off the alcohol - quite the reverse...)

Geoffrey poses for the camera

Here's Geoffrey, in a favourite pose during a stop-off on our coracle trip.

We Dust Off the Coracle (again)

"Come on, Uncle Tuppy! get some of that fat off!"
It was Tuppence, shouting in the window at some ungodly hour. He threw open the curtain - releasing a cloud of moths as he did so - and clambered in.
"What was that? Speak up uncle Tuppy!"
I cleared my throat and decided not to repeat it. After all, why risk a serious "doing" when you don't have to?
"We're only on our fourth cup of tea, for pity's sake Tuppence!" complained Geoffrey.
Anyway - the upshot of it all is that the three of us have dragged the old coracle out of the attic and we're off for a scull round the Bay.
I can only hope that the weather remains calm, and that Baby Orca is still somewhere off the Orkneys...

Processed Meat Slice of the Week - Corned Beef

This week's Processed Meat of the Week is The Co-operative Corned Beef (5 slice pack).

This is probably our fave meat, though normally, Geoffrey and I prefer the tinned version. However, we take our pleasures where we can and if that's all they've got it's all they've got. Plus, we got it cheap as it's reached its sell-by.

Corned Beef - or "korn bif" as we know it - is a versatile and tasty meat. We eat it cold on its own with some red sauce or "yellow sauce" (salad cream). The T-G tells us that Mrs T-G makes it into something called "korn bif Alaska", which consists of a slab/tin of korn bif, covered in red sauce then covered again in mashed potato and grated cheese, and baked in the oven. Naturally Geoffrey and I can't be bothered with all that faff.

Readers might recall that Cherry Fulmar often prepares something called "korn bif kebabs" when she's having a BBQ. These consist of chunks of korn bif, skewered on sticks alongside chunks of tinned pineapple, BBQd, and served with a "yellow sauce coulis". Again, Geoffrey and I can well live without the pineapple chunks ("froot" - yuck) but we'll eat anything if it's free.

The Fulmars haven't had a BBQ this year due to inclement weather, so fingers crossed they might be planning one soon.

Processed Meat Slice of the Week - Corned Beef

This week's Processed Meat of the Week is The Co-operative Corned Beef (5 slice pack).

This is probably our fave meat, though normally, Geoffrey and I prefer the tinned version. However, we take our pleasures where we can and if that's all they've got it's all they've got. Plus, we got it cheap as it's reached its sell-by.

Corned Beef - or "korn bif" as we know it - is a versatile and tasty meat. We eat it cold on its own with some red sauce or "yellow sauce" (salad cream). The T-G tells us that Mrs T-G makes it into something called "korn bif Alaska", which consists of a slab/tin of korn bif, covered in red sauce then covered again in mashed potato and grated cheese, and baked in the oven. Naturally Geoffrey and I can't be bothered with all that faff.

Readers might recall that Cherry Fulmar often prepares something called "korn bif kebabs" when she's having a BBQ. These consist of chunks of korn bif, skewered on sticks alongside chunks of tinned pineapple, BBQd, and served with a "yellow sauce coulis". Again, Geoffrey and I can well live without the pineapple chunks ("froot" - yuck) but we'll eat anything if it's free.

The Fulmars haven't had a BBQ this year due to inclement weather, so fingers crossed they might be planning one soon.

Biscuit of the week - the two finger Kit Kat

This week's biscuit of the week is the two finger milk Kit Kat. We've tried the peanut kind as well, and we like those also. We don't care for the orange variety - too frooty.
Why has this been chosen as biscuit of the week? well, it's all we could find in the bins at the tourist car park today - plus, the red wrapper is very eye-catching and it makes you want to pick it up.
It's also a very good biscuit. We don't choose any old rubbish for this feature, even though we might find things in skips etc.. The chocolate is very tasty and not cloying like Cadbury's (can be).
Geoffrey enjoys a frozen Kit Kat, whereas I prefer mine slightly off the chill. Not that I'm fussy or anything.

Tin of the Week

This is an unusual item - a tin containing "froot".

We don't normally eat "froot", as we like to stick to our processed meat and salty snax diet as much as possible. Our systems are accustomed to it and we feel that "froot" would interfere with that.

However we found this on the skip outside Tupfinder Towers, and decided just to take it for a rainy day, or for throwing at visitors, or both.

It's a tin of Co-operative pear quarters, and was priced down at 39p. It states on the tin that you have to eat THE WHOLE TIN in order to reach just ONE of the mandatory five a day, as laid down by the Ghastly Wilson and his ilk. Needless to say we won't be bothering with that carry on.

We talk about jobs and munny

We quickly became bored with our cloaks and have stuffed them under the sofa, to use another time.
Razor Bill stopped by with the post this morning, and stayed for his usual blether.
"It occurs to me that I'm the only person Hereabouts with a "job"," he said, tucking into a hefty bacon and double egg sandwich.
Geoffrey and I exchanged glances. "What's a 'job'?", we asked.
Bill nearly choked. "Look at ME! carrying sacks of letters and goodness knows what, all over the shop! you don't think I do this for pleasure, do you?"
Bill explained that he works a certain number of hours per week, for an employer, viz. the G.P.O., and is rewarded with "munny".
"But we don't use "munny" Hereabouts. We don't need it."
"I know," said Bill. "It's all very well for you chaps to rake bins and skips for food. Not to mention your OTHER activities. Manners prevent me from saying what. The rest of us mortals have to LIVE. People talk about you two, you know."
"Well, we're not the only ones who don't have jobs. No-one else does Hereabouts. We're all self-sufficient. And by the way - how's your bacon and double egg sandwich? no trouble at all to fry that up piping hot for you and put on the red sauce just the way you like it and everything."
Bill coughed in an embarrassed way as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Very nice thanks. Suppose I'd better be off."
"Suppose you'd better," I scowled, glancing at the letter he'd brought. Oh no. It was another one from the Humungous Whacking Great Pylon and Compulsory Green Energy Consumption Commission.
I put it on the fire while Geoffrey wasn't looking.

Hours of Fun

Geoffrey and I have had a great time today. We decided to try out our new hooded black cloaks, and so we got up early and went for a walk along the cliffs. It was a blowy day, with a storm brewing "Over there", and looking very much as if it was feeling like heading "Hereabouts".
As we neared the Old Coastguard Hut (see gazetteer)the sky turned an odd pewter-like colour, which put me in mind of my own dear pewter-style mug, which I use for supping madeira.
"Perhaps we should head home to the fireside, Geoffrey, and have a stiffener. After all, it's gone half ten."
Before he could reply, a crowd of rats emerged willy nilly from the tunnel entrance/exit, which readers will recall is located within the Old Coastguard Hut. When they caught sight of us, they ran back in, screaming at the top of their lungs.
"It's the Reaper! And he's got back up!"
Geoffrey and I exchanged glances. "Let's take the long way home, and scare some more people!" I suggested excitedly, enjoying the feeling of power. "I wonder if we can pick up a couple of scythes from somewhere. Let's have a look in the T-G's skip!"
"Don't be selfish Tuppy. Think of the elderly, and the sick. You could tip them over the edge..."

A reader asks...

A reader asks...what's the photo of the door all about? well, as I didn't have a photo of a skip to hand, I posted a photo of the Tupfinder General's back door. The skip is in front of the front door, but I couldn't get a decent angle. I'm doing my best here, K?

We Receive a Gift

Mrs T-G's been busy over the weekend. As they still happened to have the skip handy outside Tupfinder Towers (the one they'd hired for the fatty snax), Mrs T-G took the opportunity to clear out the attics, and found some old black-out material. She has kindly used it to run us up matching "Reaper-style" black cloaks, so we can cover up our "Bums 'n' Tums".

The T-G brought them round for us to try on, yesterday.

"Very flattering," he said admiringly as Geoffrey and I paraded round the Outcrop. "Work that look. You'd never guess what was hidden under there."

"Probably just as well," shrilled Tuppence, who had turned up out of the blue.

I threw off my cloak in defiance. "I'm not ashamed of my Bum 'n' Tum," I cried. "I'm expecting a complementary delivery of Holland's Pies very shortly. I WAS going to share them out, but I won't now. I'm going to scoff the lot, so there." And I huffed off with my cloak tucked under my arm.

Then I had an idea...

A reader asks

A reader complains that I've been leaving too many "loose ends" recently, and wants to know the following.
a) what happened after Tuppence fired his pistol indoors? did the Rocky Outcrop collapse after all? Answer - No! (yawn - of course it didn't - it's seen FAR worse calamities. And, even if it HAD collapsed, we could reconstruct it in no time - as we did last year when it got blown up.)
As for Tuppence, he effed off to the tunnels again afterwards, to hatch some ghastly plan with the rats. We'll probably hear more of that, later.
b) what happened to Spockfingers after he got wedged in the window of the Rocky Outcrop - did he unwedge himself, or is he still there waiting to lose weight like YOU did Tuppy, when you were wedged in the crack? Answer - NO - of course he's not still there. He managed to unwedge himself in the usual manner, aided by a liberal application of some fat we found in one of our cooking implements.

Mild swear word of the week

"Chuff." As in "chuffing hell/heck", "what the chuff is that?", "get chuffed", and "chuff off."

Quote of the week

Geoffrey and I found this in a skip outside the T-G's residence, yesterday afternoon. I'd like to say that our eyes just happened to fall upon it, willy nilly, as we were passing, but no - I'm afraid we were short of readies (not that we use "normal munny") and we were running low on crisps. Usually, in such circs., we would nick some from the Puff Inn cellars, or Geoffrey might rake the bins at the tourist car park. However, on this occasion, we decided to check out the T-G's skip. Reason? we'd heard via Razor Bill that Mrs T-G had been to a "Bums 'n' Tums" evening last Wednesday night, and had been so horrified at the state/size of her "Bum 'n' Tum" compared to the others there, that she rushed home in a right old state to Tupfinder Towers, and immediately emptied all fatty foods 'n' snax from all of her cupboards. There was so much, that the lid of their wheelie bin wouldn't close and the T-G had to arrange a skip.

Cue me and Geoffrey. We couldn't care less about our bums 'n' tums.

"But it was only recently that you got stuck in the crack, " queried Geoffrey, as we stuffed a bin liner with crisps and packets of pies. "Shouldn't you..well...be cutting down a bit?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply," I sniffed. How dare he betray me like that?

"I'm only thinking of your health," he ventured, noticing my hardening expression.

"Well don't flaming bother," I snapped. "Else you'll have to start thinking about your...here, what's this?"

And I picked up the book pictured above - Elizabeth Goudge's The Middle Window.

It fell open at page 54. "People talked a lot about the death of the body and the life of the spirit but what did they know about it? What did anyone know? Men laughed and talked and ate and drank inside a little lighted house of life and outside was a great windy darkness that stretched they knew not where and held they knew not what," I read.

"Indeed," boomed a familiar voice. "Couldn't have put it better myself."

"For pity's sake. can't you give us a break for five minutes? And don't you ever wear anything other than that ghastly black hooded cloak?"

It was the frigging Grim frigging Reaper, lurking about in his usual cheery manner.

"I find it covers up the "Bum 'n' Tum" very nicely if I'm having a fat day," he growled, twirling his scythe. "Plus, I never need to concern myself with "bad hair" days, either. Job done. Maybe YOU should get yourself one, Tuppy."