Snow!

Here we go again -- it's officially cold, and the human is finding better and better excuses not to ride to work -- though paradoxically he seems less worried about doing so late at night on machines belonging to street furniture monopolies...
The more fashion-conscious amongs our four-legged friends may be feeling the need for one of these.
Not sure if that will be much help for this fine specimen, though I certainly wouldn't mess with it!

'Pataphysics

'Pataphysics is to metaphysics what metaphysics is to physics. A physical statement would be along the lines of "I have a brother and he likes cheese." A metaphysical statement would be "If I had a brother he would like cheese." A 'pataphysical statement would be "I don't have a brother and he likes cheese." And so forth. As you can see, 'pataphysics makes far more sense than most human behaviour.
Observe the following image, taken during a 'pataphysical demonstration of the precautions to be taken against zombification -- instead of making bad films about the whole sorry business, it would suffice to tie one's jaw shut when unattended to prevent one's soul from escaping.
A strip consisting of nine sheets of toilet paper -- what the French artfully term "P.Q.," managing to be both polite and vulgar and to deploy a bad pun in the course of two letters -- should suffice when tied correctly. Tourists, small children, the elderly and the infirm are allowed up to twelve to make for easier knots without the attendant danger of rupturing delicate perforations.
Yours in Faustroll!

Indeed!

This thoughtful and heartwarming public service announcement was one of my highlights for a mid-week break in the mountains, though the humans seemed more impressed with the gallery the café was attached to. Magic Pudding indeed. Two days away and they were deep into hound withdrawal -- nothing for the humans but they couldn't stop themselves from bringing back gifts for him.

More food than I want to think about, a four-poster bed in the Shakespeare room (no less) and a commodiously triangular bath -- albeit served by a patent chrome soap dispenser above the sink requiring either sixty squirts of soap (rounded, for reasons that can only be divulged by the perpetrators, to the nearest twenty squirts) or dismantling with a 3mm allen key in order for the lids to be unscrewed.

Hills there may be in the mountains, but bringing one's bicycle at least ensures one has the appropriate tools!

I've been resting

in the handkerchief pocket of the cream, the white, the off-white, the ivory or the beige, no less.

I faithfully promise that this is the closest this blog will ever come to talking about cricket.