Le Weekend Etc.

Divided - as we were briefly on Saturday - mrs househusbandnot and I regrouped at Yo Sushi in the evening where we ate our body weight in tempura and sushi and stuff. In this endeavour, we were first watched by two tiny Asian girls who appeared to have shared a Californian roll between them, and then by a couple who took up a Let's Check Out The househusbandnots viewing spot. (As a result of this attention, mrs hhn and I spent some time trying to remember what a hide - as in birdwatching hide - was called.) He looked like a young Hilary Benn. She looked like an edgy librarian. They held hands throughout supper. Very cute, if a little disturbed by me flicking soy sauce all over them when mrs hhn was in the loo. But it didn't stop them staring at us. We left the restaurant as quickly as possible, feeling much spied upon.

In randomly related news, mrs hhn admitted to me this weekend that she thought that Safety Dance by Men Without Hats was actually written AND performed by David Bowie. (Just before Styx gets in there I will give you a brief reminder of the lyrics of this song: "Ah we can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance Well they're no friends of mine I say, we can go where we want to, A place where they will never find And we can act like we come from out of this world Leave the real one far behind, and we can dance or sing." ) I have a feeling that the last time I was forced to listen to Men Without Hats was on a remote island off the West Coast of Scotland when my host informed me that all we had for supper was a bottle of scotch and some LSD...oh and a few eggs from the farmer up the road. (This island is so remote and quiet that the owls walk down the roads because there is not traffic to bother them into flying.)

Speaking of the real world leaving us behind, this morning I had a dream that that mrs hhn left me and when I refused to accept this development she bought a large snake to force me out of the house. Back in the real world, I appear to have grown a stigmata on my left palm since last night. Hmm. Interesting career option.

Anyway, got to get on with tax return to meet Wed deadline. And on with website, which - as mentioned - has had a total redesign. I was going to share the address of this new site with you lot, but am deeply shocked by the line that Madame B crossed with her comments about my mother in law, and have decided that you can't be trusted not to leave rude comments at the site. Like the naughty little girl that she is, Madame B has ruined it for all of you.