Splitting the pancake

So here for all of you who have been waiting is the answer to Shrove Tuesday's puzzle......

.......yes for the first time on earth we split the pancake. I must confess it needed a touch from the sonic screwdriver [hidden behind the camera] but now we may have the answer to the world's need for a clean carbon free fuel.

Of course there are those who may see the opportunity for the non peaceful use of such technology, but I will not be bribed, cajoled or otherwise harrassed into helping anyone to make a pancake tipped warhead [whisky or any other flavour].

The disposal of pancake waste and its long term impact on the environment is a no brainer. We have secured storage rights in the deepest reaches of the worked out jam butty mines of Knotty Ash.

What happened to the pancake

There are lemon pancakes, whisky pancakes, syrup pancakes, ice cream pancakes and tia maria pancakes and no doubt lots of other flavours too.....

.......but no marmite pancakes!

To help celebrate the season of giving things up you are invited to guess what happened next.

Tell me where the pancake went!

Impossible

you may say, but it is true. Last week I had another birthday and well into my fifth regeneration.

Friends and relations scoured the galaxy to buy me presents and I am grateful for all of them. Here are a selection.

Some men have a garden shed to hide away in. others have their own recording room, but I have my Tardis. Do not be fooled. Everyone knows the Tardis is bigger on the inside than the outside and here am I on the inside writing this blog!

Then there is the trumpet. I told teapot one day that when I close the law books for the last time it would be great to learn to play the trumpet. She looked at me as if to say the law books would stay open a long time yet. But some kind soul [wonder who] decided I might make a start right now. Music group here I come!

Then of course the sonic screw driver. I can now fix the mikes at church at a stroke. Cash dispensers are at my mercy. The time on parking meters seems to go into reverse. I am half minded to see what Mr and Mrs EB might do with it at the slot machines in Las Vegas - but that would be putting temptation in the way.

And finally 2 packets of Haribo. [now where did the other one go!] Guess how many Haribo will fill a Tardis. Come to think of it better not as complex maths is not the way to end this blog. May be the Prof knows the answer - must ask him next time I see him [haw haw]!

The big sneeze

I am recovering from a heavy cold. Not man flu, bird flu, or chimney flu. An old fashioned nose runner which has just about run out of steam.

I would not mention such a thing in the polite company of fellow bloggers but for noticing in today's Times that on 28 December last died N.S. Mandy Mitchell-Innes aged 92. He played cricket for England once in 1935 but had to give up his international career because of hay fever. He told the England captain of the day that he was frightened of sneezing just at the point a catch came his way.

I do think though a bit of sneezing might have gone down well in the Ashes series just gone. Forget the sledging. If the England wicket keeper had sneezed over the Aussie batsman at the beginning middle and end of each over who knows what might have happened. Snicko and the stump mike would have been at risk for certain.

Now with the weather forecast the way it is who will be the first to blog with Mr.......

...and how about some stories of playground mayhem. I wait in anticipation.....

Mr Forgetful

Cornish Pixie asked me last week if I was going to write a blog about all the Mr Men..........and so this week is the turn of Mr Forgetful.

It was Wednesday evening when I was due to meet a client at the Bell at Broughton at 7pm. I picked up the car here and having been to the Bell a number of times thought a quick look at the road atlas would soon have me on my way.

Not on your life. Could I find it and when I rang my friend he could not remember either. Just off junction 5 of the M5 he thought so off I went but when I reached the junction and went right I soon realised I was lost. Ringing on my mobile he told me he had remembered we were at the Bell at Bell Broughton just off junction 4 - so I duly doubled back and arrived only 20 minutes late.

I confess I am notorious at getting lost. I was reflecting on this yesterday as I went round Sainsburys and forgot where I had left my trolley as I went over to another aisle to find a piece of fish for Tiger who is on the sick. It took me at least 5 minutes to find it again. I wondered if when the store closes there are lonely trolleys left abandoned in aisles with half of the week's shopping as people like me forget where they are.

I then came home and found that the tracksuit I bought for Teapot's birthday in the Touchwood centre on Thursday on my way back to the office after a meeting was the wrong size.

Of course what was really engaging my mind in Sainsburys was that master of forgetfulness El Pasto. Compared with EP I am a novice. EP was responsible for elevating forgetfulness to an art form. A premiership player of the highest class compared to my lower league clodhopping. He was the Christian Ronaldo, the Jonny Wilkinson of forgetting. If forgetting had been an olympic sport he would be have been a gold medallist.

So I have taken encouragement from these mishaps. After all last week was his birthday and how better to celebrate it but with an outbreak of forgetfulness.

So perhaps you can add to this blog your special memory of El Pasto's forgetting.

.....oh and the name of my friend at the Bell, Chris, of course!