Dilemma Update: There has been an, um, 'incident' involving the stamps. As some of you may know, I didn't blog this weekend as I was somewhat involved in making shelves, tables, and other items to go into our study. Obviously when I had completed producing such fitments, I felt compelled to fill them, with stuff that suitably fits in a study-like arena. Stuff like stamps, envelopes and writing paper.
It was as I was tucking said items into the back of a drawer, that I heard the fatal words; "Oooh." Sarah said, "I could do with some of those." And in a nasty slow-motion stylee she reached out and stole the stamps. Thief! And right under my nose! I should probably point out at this point that I have not yet built up the courage to inform her that I am no longer her slave, but that of the die.
I will now attempt to procure another set of stamps.
My options for Friday's dilemma over what I should write in my letter to the newspapers were as follows...
Dear Sirs,
Please do not blame me for this letter: the die told me to write it. It tells me what to do on a daily basis, and I try my best to do what it says. Today it told me to speak to you, and to tell you about my world.
Even if you do no more than throw this letter in the bin, I beg that you remember and pass on the dies' message of wellbeing and joy: Bundebangles!
http://grandexperiment.blogspot.com
Best regards,
The Dice Slave
Dear Sir,
I'm writing to you with a message of glee;
I hope you're as happy as all men should be.
The world where we live is a wonderful place
And I hope you walk round with a smile on your face.
I hope that you're peaceful with nary a care
And I hope with your readers this message you'll share.
My love to your friends and your family too,
And how lucky they are to be loved, sir, by you.
Don't beat yourself up for mistakes that you've made -
Your intentions were honest, the penalty paid.
Love yourself, love the world, love the sun, love the sky.
I know that I'm right - I was told by the die.
http://grandexperiment.blogspot.com
Dear Newspaper Doctor
my friend has a problem. For some time now he has been unable to fully control himself. He feels a mysterious pressure controlling him, he gets spots before his eyes and he has lost the ability to make it past a count of six.
I have tried to reassure him and explain that this kind of thing happens to all men at some point. The thing to do is not get despondent and in time he will not need the small device on which he is currently forced to rely.
Is my advice sound or am I just fooling myself?
A Concerned Croupier
I want you to ask the readership of the newspapers how one can make jam set properly
Dear Mr or Mrs Newspaperperson,
The dice told me to write to you to let you know about his plans for world domination of a happy kind.
The world is filled with sad and lonely people and we all need to make efforts to make them smile. The dice told me so. Please help me to fulfil the dices plan.
http://grandexperiment.blogspot.com
Dear Sir,
It is vitally important that you send me the sum of five pounds. Please see http://grandexperiment.blogspot.com for full details.
Many thanks,
The Dice Slave
The die, in its unfloundering wisdom, chose
Six. I will therefore attempt to blag money from a set of national and local papers. I am somewhat confused as to what this has to do with kindness and goodwill, but the die is far wiser than I, so I shall follow its guidance.
This leaves me at a bit of a precipice - do I continue along this route, milking it for all that it's worth, or do I more onto territories new? It is the latter, of course.
I feel I am a reasonably educated man: I would not choose to willingly partake in a televisual reality show, for example. But on the other hand, I have willingly chosen to sell my soul to a six sided piece of plastic.
I have a degree, in English Literature and American Studies (easier than it sounds, as they can't run away very quickly). I read a fair amount, and try to keep up with the news.
But there is a fair amount that I do not understand. Physics, Chemistry, The more difficult side of computing (other than turning it on), Veterinary Science, Humour, Proper Grammatical Structure or even the politics of the European Union all make my head spin in confusion. My life feels somewhat unfulfilled - surely there is some part of my already humongous intellect that isn't being tapped.
Dilemma Four:
What field* should I attempt to make a significant contribution to?
Preferred option:
Athletics. Anyone who has met me will know that as a 5'6" / 8.5 stoner there is hardly anything else that I am more suited to.
*In the widest sense of the term.
