For some reason I sometimes think. I don't know how it happens. It just does. I just think.
I was thinking the other day. I remember when I worked in London my office was on the third floor. There was a ledge outside my window. For some reason best known to itself a duck from the park opposite built a nest on the ledge. I did not know ducks build nests so high. Maybe this one was stupid.
Anyway, eventually the eggs hatched and there were five little ducklings in the nest. I could see them out the window. At first they hardly moved in the nest, but slowly they grew a little at a time and became more mobile. One day they started getting out of the nest and walk on the ledge. I guess they wanted to fly. But ducklings don't fly, do they?
I did not know what to do. I hid behind the curtain watching them walk on the edge of the ledge. The phone rang. I ignored it. I kept watching wondering whether to open the window and try to catch them.
Suddenly, one of the stupid creatures jumped. I was horrified. Three storeys up and this idiot jumped. It was quickly followed by the four others.
I opened the window and leant right out to look what happened. To my surprise all five landed safely in the car park below and were happily walking together.
Then a car ran them over!
HA ... HA ... HA ... I'm so glad this is not a true story. But it made me laugh anyway. I had to write it quickly before I forgot it.
I often think something and then forget it. Like going upstairs for instance. I go up and forget why I went up in the first place. So I get down again. And I remember, so I get up once more and get distracted by something else; like a window is open which needs shutting, and I forget again why I got up a second time.
Now before I get upstairs I write on a piece of paper why I am going upstairs. Sometimes I forget to take the piece of paper up with me and go down again to look for it; but can't remember where I put it.
One day I will publish all these pieces of paper as a book. It will help people remember reasons to go upstairs.
Go to the toilet, take folded laundry upstairs, bring dirty clothing to be washed, take a shower, go to sleep, go to the toilet again ... and so on.
The problem is we live in a one-storey bungalow. So going upstairs takes me to the attic, or loft. No wonder I can't find the toilet there!
I'm on a roll here. That's the second funny story I just thought. I wonder what I'll think of next.
It was very hot the other day. We had the windows open and it attracted mosquitoes in the house. I could not find a newspaper to beat them senseless so I used the modern version - my wife's Kindle.
When she came in she asked, "What are you **** doing with my Kindle?"
"Swatting mosquitoes," I replied, "I killed three males and two females!"
Somehow, this distracted her from my using her Kindle, she asked, "How do you know their sex?"
"Easy," I said, "the three males were on my beer, the two females were on the phone!"
Oh come on ... that was a good one. I bet all my lady readers are upset with me now.
I visit an old peoples' home every now and then and keep the elderly entertained with a chat and a few jokes. The other day one of the visiting doctors was testing their acuity.
He asked Eddie, "what is five times five?"
Eddie replied "132!"
The doctor smiled and asked Peter, "what is five times five?"
"Thursday," replies Peter.
The doctor writes his notes and asks Martin, "what is five times five?"
Martin replies, "25!"
The doctor is encouraged and asked, "how did you get your answer, Martin?"
"Easy ..." says Martin, "just subtract 132 from Thursday!"