It's time for the solution to the Easter Fun And Frolics quiz. No one had the correct answer, but Danish Dog came nearest with two right. The false facts were: (6) I have a phobic fear of beetroot (actually I love the stuff!), (14) My middle name is Archibald (it's John) and (16) I renamed myself Robert after a sex change operation (!)
Just a few words about some of the other statements.
I used to work in publishing — which is the reason I met those well-known personalities.
My association with the Georgian State Dance Company was short and sweet. I was picked out as a stooge by a couple of the dancers (I was sitting end of row in the audience), and before I knew what was happening found myself on stage doing some Cossack-style dancing much to the amusement of the whole theatre and the acute embarrassment of my children.
You really don't want to know about (8), (9), (10), (15) and (17), I assure you. Please put them down to youthful excess, not to any ingrained character defect.
And as for the alligator — my wife approached one in the Florida Everglades, mistakenly believing it was a life-size plastic model (similar to the one we'd just seen at the start of the boardwalk). When it moved, her screams could be heard all the way from Flamingo to Miami.
(All images from Wikimedia Commons)
11 comments:
Suddenly my youthful excess is looking depressingly tame. A PINT?!
Goat, it was dark, it was the middle of the night, someone had been lazy, the glass was there by my bed, and I was bloody thirsty. Well, perhaps not quite a pint (after all it was in Paris) — may have been something in millilitres? Who's measuring? And it tasted Ok actually. As much as I remember. Which is not a lot ...
I don't know whether to be relieved or not. I'm delighted that Carmen survived the alligator assault in Florida. Moreover, it's quite clear from the portrait that you make a better Robert than Roberta. I continue to be haunted, however, by the fact that you once drank a pint of urine in the mistaken belief that it was water. I can only assume that the pint of urine was preceded by several other pints of something rather mind-bending.
Hell, I don't know why this urine thing is preoccupying everyone so much! I mean, it's sterile, and, according to some health websites, it's positively beneficial! And I don't make a habit out of it. In fact, I haven't drunk a good pint of urine for years ...
Thanks, George, my friend, for your, um, delicious comment!
All fine and good, Robert. I can live with the sterility of urine. But if you expect me to not want to know more about #10, you will have to be disappointed!
Well, not a lot to it, actually, Ruth. I was twenty years old. My English girlfriend was living in Paris. I was living in Germany and had hitchhiked all the way from Frankfurt to see her for the weekend. I found out she had been having "other relations", should we say. And some time during the night I not only drank that urine (oh why do we always come back to this!) but smashed the window. Not particularly proud of it, but my girlfriend seemed rather impressed. We got on like a house on fire after that.
PS And please, everyone, don't think I meant to imply that urine is an aphrodisiac, no, no, I didn't mean that at all ... :-)
Oh dear and I probably know you better than most in blogland, but I still got them wrong (not that I have ever got round to serving you beetroot!)
If you served me bootroot, Pat, I would be helpless, just helpless ...
PS With a little urine sauce, perchance..?
PPS I think I meant BEETroot!
Post a Comment