At the moment I am not performing too well, since I am being attacked by some nasty bugs.

In fact, I've felt so bad these last few days that yesterday I actually went and saw the doctor. He cheerfully told me that prostate infections are notoriously hard to get rid of and patients often gets relapses - one of which I am suffering from at the moment.

So he has put me onto the antibiotic equivalent of a small atomic bomb and I should be either cured or buried in no time flat!

The result is that these antibiotics are now having a major skirmish with the bugs in my system and I feel like the battlefield! I'm just worried that they're going to start digging trenches in me soon!

Whatcha mean, "Typical! Men are always terrible patients"?) I'll have you know, I'm really sick here. I can't even hold my Playboy steady. Then again, can you? Er ... we won't go there.

I mean, it's so bad that I dropped the lid of my brand new two-cup teapot and broke it! Aaaaaaaargh. Do you know what trouble I had finding that teapot?! Now I'm going to have to go turn Inside Out inside out to find a new one.

Or maybe I'll just go to the Wharehouse. Oh, this is all too much for a sick bachelor. I think I'll just turn to drink.

~sigh~

But seriously, don't worry about me. ~sob sob~ I'm just looking for sympathy. I mean, it's terrible when you have a bug that you can't pass on!

--
Allan

I have had to go and buy myself a new teapot. My previous one took exception to being dropped on a concrete floor, albeit covered with lino. It ended up in little pieces except that the spout was intact. I couldn't help thinking that it looked like a teapot that had been attacked by Lorena Bobbett.

So off I went to the Wharehouse. But they only had metal teapots. Yeeeeech! Then again, maybe their buyers live in modern houses with concrete floors. But tea doesn't taste the same out of a metal teapot. Oh, the irony. (Er, excuse that. I just couldn't resist it.)

So I wandered off to Farmers and they only had big teapots. Bachelors like I only need a little teapot. Otherwise we slosh when we walk. And, before too long, walk rather strangely.

So then I went along to Inside Out. Inside Out had a Closing Down sale in progress. They kept telling me that it was going to take them three months to close. All I can say is that those doors must be very heavy! Anyway, with the sale going on, a lot of stock was on trestle tables on the footpath outside the shop. So the shop truly was Inside Out.

Now, the only small teapot on sale in the shop had a lid without a knob on it. A knob is very important. Just ask any housewife who knows her jollies.

So I pointed this out to the lady in the shop and she said that the reason the lid didn't have a knob on was because it was a Herb teapot.

I just had to point out then that I wasn't a Herb but an Allan and did she have a better-named one.

She just laughed. It's terrible when the legitimate concerns of a customer are treated so frivolously like this. So she pointed to a larger teapot and said: "There's this one."

I said it was too large and she said she liked a large one. I was tempted, truly tempted, but I didn't say anything...

So, faced with Hobson’s choice (or is that Herb’s choice) I bought the one with the funny lid. I have just used it and I have discovered that if you put your finger on the lid to stop the lid falling off as you pour, your finger gets burned. Do you too get the feeling that one has a Herb’s choice here? Get burned by the teapot or by the tea as the lid falls into it.

~sigh~ All this buying of domestic equipment is just so difficult for a mere bachelor like me.

--
Allan