Don't mind me ... I'm thinking aloud.

 

There are too many thoughts on my mind right now. I can't shake them off. Why can't we shake ourselves like wet dogs do and get rid of all our thoughts for a while?

For example, I have noticed in many films and TV dramas that when women start crying, as they often do, the man always hands them a neatly folded extra clean handkerchief. Do men carry handkerchiefs especially for such occasions? Not me. In the past when a woman burst out crying next to me I just joined her and cried even louder and asked her for a handkerchief. That usually stopped her. If she did not stop crying I just walked away. 

Talking of which, I walked to the stationery shop to buy some envelopes. It had moved. It really surprised me. 

There's been an increase in crime in our multi-storey car parks. That is wrong on so many levels.

 

There was an accident outside the car-park. A lorry-load of tortoises crashed into a van filled with terrapins. What a turtle disaster that was. In the mayhem that ensued a tortoise was mugged by a snail. When the police asked for details the tortoise said it happened so quickly.

I hate it when people are so slow. The other day I had dinner with a world chess champion. At our table there was a check tablecloth. It took him twenty minutes to pass me the salt.

At the restaurant I met Bruce Lee's vegetarian brother. Brocko Lee.

There were a couple at the restaurant holding hands. How romantic. I like to hold hands at the movies, which always seems to startle strangers.

I think every married man should hold hands every now and then and forget past mistakes he's made. There's no point in two people remembering the same thing. Like the day my wife asked me to stop impersonating a flamingo. I had to put my foot down.

I went to a wedding the other day. The photographer said, "would all married men stand next to the person who made their life worth while!" The bartender was almost crushed to death.

Wives are strange creatures. Mine waits up until 3 in the morning just to ask me "do you know what time it is?" The other day she started shouting at half-passed-midnight. "Golf ... golf ... golf ..." she cried, "you do nothing other than play golf!" She nearly gave me a heart attack. I did not expect her on the golf course at that hour.

Right now I'm thinking which came first? The chicken or the egg? I've ordered both from Amazon and will let you know when they arrive.

I sometimes wish I lived in a big house. But then who is going to do all the cleaning? Or take the trash bins out? Such a long walk to the side-walk!

Who takes the trash bins out in your household?