The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.


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Carried away by goblins

Mr Furlong and I have long played massive online computer games. We play together. It’s always been fun.

But recently, I dumped playing the one we’ve been playing for several years, and returned to a very old game we used to play at least twelve years ago. It’s been very interesting.

Now Mr Furlong has joined me.

In a hall where we were busy fighting fierce guards, another player wanted to trade goods with me for nothing. So I accepted. He gave me a massive amount of gold, armour and a beautiful scimiter. I was well pleased and thanked him.

What are the chances of such a thing happening to two random players who just, unknown to anyone else, are husband and wife?

Yesterday, a player wanted to trade with Mr Furlong. He was given a huge amount of gold, and gold trimmed armour, weapons and other items. Of course he got thanks.

Those players that gifted us, logged out and have not been back to the game.

These massive online games are very addictive. I reckon their wives/husbands gave them an ultimatum.

“If you don’t stop playing that bloody game, I’m divorcing you!”

So they dumped their stuff and left.

How lucky were we!


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Wow, I saw an endangered species..

While on my walk yesterday along the canal path, I came apon an endangered species.

Or rather, they came apon me.

I’ve seen one or two of these creatures before, but never out on the streets. Or rather, in this case, the canal path.

I got a bit jumpy. For several days now, I’ve been picking blackberries. I hate to see good food go to waste. A doggie bag is an excellent blackberry picking receptical. So I was pretty packed with berries.

Anyway, I saw these creatures bearing down on me, and I hoped that the new stop and search regulations hadn’t arrived in our town yet. I don’t know if here, in the UK, you are allowed to help yourself to blackberries. Here, there are VERY strange laws, like picking wild flowers is illegal.

However, these two policewomen, all smart and official in their snappy uniforms and hats, and reflective yellow jackets, passed me calling out ” Good morning, everything all right here?”

Can you believe that?

I almost collapsed into the blackberries in my shock, and utter amazement.

These creatures actually exist, it’s only that we never see them here.


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Skinny Marinky I LOVE you, no time!

We recently had a sleepover for three girl grandchildren.

It was busy. Busy, busy, busy.

There seemed to be no time to play with my shell collection. Nor my rocks and stone collection. Or look at things through my special geological microscope. Or colour in, or draw. Or just sit and talk. Or listen to stories about past times, memories or family history.

Our grandchildren are nurtured by the TV and computer games. Busy, busy, busy.

Sing?

You’ve got to be joking…

This is a feelgood song – especially for YOU.


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Sleepover

Tonight is the night. The three grandchildren girls are staying over whilst their Moms and Dads have a rest.

We have them to stay now and again, and Grandpa cooks sausages by the dozen…..our grandchildren have huge apetites.

It’s going to be hectic, but not as hectic as the Furlong household used to be with five children, two adults, dogs, cats, guinea pigs, ducks, hamsters, three white rats and one parrot.

Us old Furlongs were pretty tough. We survived without much money, on a smallholding partially covered with wonderful virgin African bush.

So our troubles were snakes like mambas, pythons and adders , aboreal hyraxes that used to fall out of the trees, bushbabies that wailed in the night, hawks, and worse, eagles which took our chickens and once, our Jack Russell that it dropped. The vet stitched it up and said it was like mending a patchwork quilt.

Mongees killed our ducks in a killing frenzy by biting them once under the wing and then leaving them.

The vervet monkeys dropped paw paws and corn into our pool where they fouled the water, and ate the buds off our roses in the rose field.

There was always something happening.

Not always nice.

Yet our children seem to think they were so privileged to have such a hectic childhood and remember it as special.

If we coped with all that in the past, one night with three little girls watching “Fireman Sam” and “Paw Patrol”, in a safe ground floor British flat with enclosed gardens in which there are no adders, scorpions, and not even a squirrel, should be all right, then.


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Extinction and other rebellions

Oh, what strange goings on are happening in society. Rebellion is everywhere.

In the UK here we have Extinction Rebellion. They are the crowd with the dreadful Thurnberg marching ahead, carrying her banner of green insanity, groomed by Communists in a revolution of children and young people without wisdom.

We have the Remainer Rebellion which is by hook or by crook, fair or foul, stopping legitimate politics in our once democratic country.

We have a new political party formed, The Brexit Party, rebelling, not only against the Remainer Rebellion, but constructing a whole new way of running political parties.

Here in my country, polls tell us, people are now sick of LBTQ (insert alphabet here) pushing their causes and are rebelling against the political correctness of it. Some of our schools are rebelling against the inclusivity teachings in schools. Schools have had to be closed.

There are rumours of huge disgruntlement in the population about cutbacks to services and the invisibility of our police force, the ineptitude of The National Health Service and Social Services. They are on the point of rebelling.

If you read the papers, or follow the news, we have doomsday arriving on all fronts.

Oh and then there’s Trump and Bo Jo (Boris Johnson). They are going to bring on the apocalypse.

Of all the current rebellions, the foment of Extinction Rebellion is the most terrifying. Imagine a zero carbon emissions world! That would be the downfall of the Western world, a political agenda desired by every totalitarian leader in History.

Extinction Rebellion make all the other rebellions, even those of the distant Historical past, seem quite, quite sane!

Link to my today’s post on Life on an Alien Planet


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Dogs and mad Englishmen

Oh, it’s been hot.

People here look at me in astonishment as they say cheerily “Isn’t the weather wonderful?” And I reply ” No, it’s horrible! It’s HOT.”

When we first arrived in England from Africa twenty something years ago, everyone asked the same question “Don’t you miss the sun?”

No.

We don’t.

The citizens here all trog off to hot places for their hols. People are considered to be living in poverty in the UK if they can’t afford their annual “hols”.

In Africa, with five children, dogs, cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, chickens, ducks, and a parrot, we didn’t do “hols”.

When the heat is on here, mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

In Africa, you stay indoors, or rest under trees or on the veranda. You never lie in the sun. You don’t get admitted in droves to Accident and Emergency with sunstroke and sunburn. In Africa people KNOW about stuff like that. It’s Englishmen who are fools.

As for the mad dogs, I recieved an email from a UK pet site I follow. It asked dog owners not to walk their dogs in the heat.

So they’ve learned about dogs, but not about Englishmen

obviously…..


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Wicked wood

We walk through the wood – often, Bass and I.

I notice two areas in it, that I think are used for nefarious activities.

The one, is a circle of fallen logs under an archway of surrounding trees. It’s cathedral like. It’s beautiful except for odd litter. It’s always clear of undergrowth, and the path to it is well kept. There is something curious about it. Sometimes people disappear into it, or emerge from it. I can see them ahead of me dissipate off the main path like wraiths in the distance. Or, appear.

What are they doing?

Once, I passed two young men that I’d seen emerge, sitting on a log further along the main path, dividing something up between them from a little parcel. Was it lunch? Or was it drugs?

I think the cathedral is not used for religious illumination or pagan rites, but for another mind altering experience. It might be a drop off point, or business hall.

The second place is new. I noticed it the other day. There was a crop circle in the undergrowth. I imagined it was made by a small UFO hovering under the trees. It was perfectly circular. And, after all, it is crop circle season.

But a few days later, the circle, which might have been left by a loving couple meeting in a private place, has now become a rectangle almost the size of my bedroom.

The flattened undergrowth makes a mattress like floor, and the size of it indicates to me that it’s being used by a whole group.

It’s a perfect hideaway for subterfuge, secrets, smoking and sex.

That’s a much better place for teenagers to meet than the field at the back of our house, ’cause Bass doesn’t like them meeting there at night. He barks.


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What lies!

At the end of April, I wrote a sign for myself and taped it on the goodie cupboard door in the kitchen.

In that cupboard are things like peanut butter, biscuits, lemon curd and Nuttella. Also the cupboard is in the middle of that wall. Obvious. Plain to see. Noticeable.

The sign says ” Liz is on diet”.

Liz said that to herself because she has put on a few kilos and her blood sugar readings have increased this year. Mr Furlong didn’t need a sign. He is maintaining everything perfectly. And the sign was supposed to be read by the two of us, so that the thin one could emotionally support the overweight one.

The sign was supposed to be read everyday, but we don’t notice it at all. Mr Furlong still brings me treats, or suggests fiendish foods.

I’ve just weighed myself.

My weight is UP.

Since I’ve been “on diet” it’s always up, never down.

That sign is a lie!

I’m taking it down.


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Evolution at the Furlong’s

Evolution is happening here, at our house.

Our flies are getting really intelligent.

In the old days, we could pick up a fly swat and stalk them around the lounge until THWAT! we got em.

Now, I notice how really clever they’ve become.

The moment we pick up the fly swat,

They scarper.

Where do they scarper to?

Out the door and through the passageway to somewhere else…..


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Contemplation on a tricky situation in football

The Furlongs have been to Goa. It’s a fascinating part of India. There are many cow situations in India because cows are sacred animals, never to be harmed. They have precedence everywhere you go.

Goa is colourful, vibrant and loud. And dirty. There you feel pulled into real life without cosmetic artiface.

This video gave me a thoughtful moment about diplomacy. How do you deal with soccer practice when the sacred cow is in charge of the game?