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"Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master" and other metaphores from the 2002 Higher School Certificate essays.

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Before I could settle down to some serious quaffing, Dad told me we were taking mum out for her birthday at the Bowling Club. It was a $17 "all you can eat until you explode" buffet, better than the Golden Trough, and quite a bargan considering there were ten of us there. The seafood was pretty damn good (and I'm still alive). The smoked salmon was a little less smoked and a little more briney than I liked, but they had GREEN LIPPED MUSSELS by the dozen. I was "KIWI KIWI KIWI OI OI OI!" all night.

One on my best memories of New Zealand was eating a dozen glreen lipped musses with cheese, washed down with Monteiths Black in a resteraunt at 45 degrees South.

Tonight, let the Quaffing continue.

Today's Quiz:

batless

I am batless once again. I'd kept Florence longer than I would have normally because she had a 5mm tear in her wing. I wanted to see it heal a little before she went bush. Over the last seven days it had reduced in size by half. I decided it was time.

She munched 10 worms and drank some water, then I loaded her and the tent into the car and headed out to her estate on the edge of town. It took her ages to do her grooming. She sat on my hand and goomed, and groomed, and groomed. Then she looked around for a while, stretched her wings... and folded them up. Then she stretched her wings... and folded them up again. I began to winder if she wanted to go.

But she did. After few more minutes of looking around she pooped on my hand and launched into the night.