101/1001 (2)

Cover of Modesty Blaise

Sarsm and I have agreed to update you weekly on how our challenge is going.  So, how has my challenge gone in its first week?

1/101

I watched one film, Robin Hood, and enjoyed it.  I started three others but they didn’t grab me in the first ten minutes, so I turned them off.  Life is too short to do something you don’t have to do.

1/30

I have read one book: Moonraker’s Bride.  It is an old favourite that I have never owned a copy of until this week, when I managed to get one from Readitswapit.  I’ve never been so glad to have a sore arm because I was able to sit, read and drink tea all day yesterday.  What am I always telling you?  There’s always a silver lining.

Madeleine Brent was really Peter O’Donnell, the author of Modesty Blaise.  From Wikipedia:

At the request of publisher Ernest Hecht, he began writing gothic romance and adventure novels under the pen name of Madeleine Brent. The novels are not a series, but feature a variety of strong female protagonists. They are written in first person, take place in the late Victorian era, and although every protagonist has connections to England, part of each book is set in various locations around the world—including China, Australia, Afghanistan, and Mexico. Identity—the need to discover who she really is—is often a major part of the protagonist’s struggle.

They are all fabulous stories and I have read them to death.  I learned some years ago that he also wrote Garth for a long time: a comic strip in The Daily Mirror that I think now would be called a graphic novel.  I loved that too but I lost my only Garth book years ago and they’re not in print any more.

I am halfway through another book, Bleak House.  I’ve been halfway through that for six months, so it’s time I finished it.  Not Boz’s finest hour, though it was the BBC’s, which is what persuaded me to read it in the first place.

2/101

Wrote two new poems: abysmal rate.  Must try harder.

6.15/1001

Walked the dogs for six and a quarter hours.  I need to do seven hours a week so I’m already behind.

7/1001

Told seven jokes which, frankly, got a more enthusiastic reception than I anticipated – thank you, dear readers.  Also gave me the bonus of realising I’d found a way to count down 1001 days.

10/64

I’ve added ten new challenges to the list.  I can’t remember what they are because I added them aesthetically instead of chronologically.  There was definitely a balloon and some Maltesers in there, though.

17/1111

Blogged seventeen times.  That doesn’t include posts to my other blogs; just this one.

40,278/100,000

Hit the big 4-0-thousand hits.  Time to part-teyyy.*

*I can’t carry that off, can I?

I’ve Been April Fooled

I am typing this with my left hand, slowly and carefully.  I think I have RSI in my right arm.  It is mild at the moment but I could do some real damage if I ignore it.  I am being sensible because I don’t want to damage my Malteser arm, and because I momentarily blacked out yesterday when I used the spellchecker and saw all those red lines.  The Hub fashioned a sling so I could rest my arm.  I’m surprised he had the material so readily to hand; I suspect he intended to make a gag with it.

The car went in for an MOT this morning.  We took the dogs and walked back.  While I was faffing with leads and wet feet and cups of tea, he checked the emails.  He suddenly shouted to me from the lounge, ‘Tilly!  You’ve had a message from Viv – she says someone’s hijacked your blog.’    I ran like I was chasing an escaped Malteser, jumped over the dogs, flung away the cup I was holding, pushed the Hub off the computer chair, scoured the emails, heard a strange chortling, and found him rofling away in the corner. 

He’s mean.  And I can’t get him back because I’m rubbish at lying; and it will be after twelve when I wake him, so the statute of April Fool limitations will have expired.  Here’s a picture of him instead:

 

Joke 8

An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse named Buddy.

He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, “Pull, Nellie, pull!” Buddy didn’t move.

Then the farmer hollered, “Pull, Buster, pull!” Buddy didn’t respond.

Once more the farmer commanded, “Pull, Coco, pull!” Nothing.

Then the farmer nonchalantly said, “Pull, Buddy, pull!” And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch.

The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times.

The farmer said, “Oh, Buddy is blind and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn’t even try!”

I guess this is proof you can lead a horse to motors, but you can’t make him think.