<needs a time machine attached to the dryer in order to finish the laundry in 1 day>

<would settle for a washer that properly agitates>

<considers the possibility of jelly donuts attached to pot pies>

<waits>

Has returned to thread with amazing news, or some such.

Did deep philosphical anallysis while eating vegemite sandwich and has now comprehended that allllllll the pies in the treehouse undergo spin changes as do hydrogen atoms and so have a probability function which collllllllapses on selection.

Also has keyboard with a llllllllllllof a problem.


This means that whatever pie one chooses, whether marked S for sweet or S for savoury or S for suspicious one wil allways get a pie that is not the intended flavour.

There is a resemblance to the Heisenberg uncertainty principle at work here for the closer one gets to making a choice the more likely it is that the target pie wil undergo a transition cghange at the monent of contact.

<selects pie expects to be unpleasantly surprised>

<gets steak and kidney pie - with special bonus no kidney>

<Celebrates Breaking Bad omens with Walter Whites chemical mastery>

<Pops up, waves essays etc as excuse, and a note from mum>
<waves hello to everyone, and disappears in a puff of smoke>

---

Part time Quantum Elephant hollower

I used to have a 1966 Jaguar S type that used more oil than petrol. I used to drive from Adelaide to Kanbra and fill the tank and check the oil at Mildura, then again at Wagga where I would put in 4 pints of oil.

It needed more at Kanbra about 250 km up the road.

Modern cars don't disappear in a puff of smoke. You can see them all the distanceas they depart.

<settles against tree trunk and starts to read "Blameless">

<climbs tree in order to read over SMs shoulder>
<just frustrated as SM reads too fast>

<enters in a shambolic mess>

<wonders why Steven Moffat reading Blameless>

<realises may have confused things with Dr Who>

<fumes in anti-climactic letdown>

Goes out to allotment to wrestle with some sods whilst anger simmers.

Sets up smokery in allotment shed. Wonders what ES fumed turnip is going to taste like.

<suspects that ES will find fumed turnip a let down>

<offers to let him watch climax of Dr. Who season to cheer him up>

<tries to formulate a cunning plan involving a turnip>

<wonders if we have all fallen through the crack and end up in Neverwhere>

<implodes>

<noting that several people are disappearing in little puffs of smoke, smears a little honey here and there to help people stick around>

<frowns at the ants, thinks that maybe honey wasn't the best choice>

<laughs at SM, Blameless!?>

<wonders if the washer has agitated Zendao enough yet, or if it gave up>

<really wants some of Aunt Mary's blueberry buckle (a funny name for a dessert, but there you go), and some vanilla ice cream>

<wonders how well the wishing well is working this week>

<gateaus>

<Wonders why ES looks slightly less than delighted with his allotment grown, largely organic, smoked turnip Happy Birthday cup cakes>
<Wishes he was a bit more grateful>

<Realizes there is no need to use hand sanitizer upon entering and leaving the Treehouse>

<Wonders why geg thought turnip cakes would be successful>

From The North-East Essex Courier dated June 9 2011

Fforde Phorum Treehouse officially recognised as the first known parallel universe. Approaches are being made by Manningtree the smallest town in England for a twinning partnership which will bring great benefits to both parties.

<Throws uneaten, allotment grown, largely organic, smoked turnip Happy Birthday cup cake at Lavender Eggplant, with some force.>

<Remembers there is an adjective mine somewhere in the treehouse, consultants handy map and decides it is probably somewhere under the onions. Starts digging in the hope of unearthing an adjective that will make the cup cakes more appealing to the average treehouse allotment gardener.>

<wonders how turnip cake fails where carrot cake would succeed>

<delivers zucchini slice, with cream cheese icing and walnuts>