Mammoth night out

It was the night of the annual town ball, and the conjoined elephant twins were stuck at home without a stitch to wear between them, let alone a date.
'Is it because we're fat?' asked one.
'It is because we'd run up a mammoth bill at the bar?' asked the other.
'Is it because last time we went to a dance, we stomped the DJ to death?'
'He deserved it. No one can dance to that Celine Dion crap,' came the reply.
The twins sighed. They loved to dance, but finding partners was becoming increasingly difficult. A few of the townsfolk thought they were two-faced and wouldn't talk to them, and some people claimed there was nothing wrong with Celine Dion (clearly they were insane) and that it was high time the girls packed their trunks and moved away.
Finally, the twins had a solution: they would go to the ball, with each other as their dates! Quickly, before the sun set, they raced down to the bottom of the garden to pick a lovely daisy corsage. Then they gave the president of the Celine Dion fan club (who they had nailed to a fence post only a month earlier) a swift kick in the privates, as was their tradition on a Saturday night, and they were on their way.

Reddy or not, here we come

This weekend Clive and I went to Red Hill. Even though it's less than an hour from our place, I had never gone before. Now I cannot wait to go back. Here are a few reasons why.

Here is a picture of me with a goat. I am the one on the left, in case you couldn't tell.

I'm at Main Ridge Dairy, where milk from these gorgeous, friendly goats ...

...is turned into a range of gob-smackingly good cheeses. (Side note: if I ever do get smacked in the gob I hope it is with this cheese.)

　
This is the fox at Foxey's Hangout, where Clive and I learned all about how to make sparkling wine from the very excellent vineyard owners, brothers Tony and Michael Lee. Then I learned how to drink loads of wine before midday (it is surprisingly easy) and how to eat a 10-course meal and still eat cheese afterwards. You too can learn this life skill in two easy steps. Step one, let Tony, who is an amazing cook, bring you lots of tapas-style morsels. Devour. Step two, let him convince you that you NEED cheese with figs and honey. Devour. See, easy.
　

And here is the most fabulous dessert I have eaten in a long time (well, since I last had Ben Shrewry's apple-tastic genius at Attica, anyway. Yes, I know that makes me sound like a name-dropping wanker but really, given I ate at Attica in April and can still remember that dessert now, I figure it's worth a mention).
I'd like to say I was sorry to eat such a beautifully presented work of art but actually, I was SUPER SUPER HAPPY to devour it and have not shut up about it since. It's the maple sugar parfait with milk chocolate delice, from The Long Table in Red Hill. I have dubbed it the Attica of the Peninsula, partly to sound like a name-dropping wanker and partly because it just is, OK?
If you're down that way, go. If you're not down that way, make the effort and go!

And if you'd like to read more about my fabulous weekend away, click here.

What a hoot

Once upon a time, Mr Mustard was out walking in the woods when he came across a rather nice looking chap with big round eyes and a friendly smile. Now, Mr Mustard was a polite sort of person, as all the best people are, so he thought it best to ignore the fact that the young man quite possibly had big round eyes because he was high on ecstasy and just say hello instead.
'Hello,' said Mr Mustard, and then stopped, because he wasn't sure what to say next. Just what does one say when one meets a stranger who's off their face, he wondered. Got any for me, old chap? Tally Ho, you might need some rolling papers for tomorrow's comedown? Hmmm. No, that sounded rather rude.
As Mr Mustard stood there wondering what to say, the big-eyed gentleman lent forward and silently shook his hand, smiling all the while. Mr Mustard couldn't help but smile back, especially when he realised the stranger had just slipped him a rather large spliff.
'Oh, how awfullly smashing of you!' Mr Mustard cried, and the two men followed the sounds of doof-doof, which is rather like The Sound of Music only with less yodelling, and a little bit like the Sound of Silence only noisier, towards a rave which was conveniently located not far from where they had met.
There, they met up with Hoots the Owl, who was pinging off his dial, and they all doofed happily ever after.

Which badge measures up?

If I made a badger a badge would I have to badger him into wearing it?

Not if it was as cute as these badges.

Do you like this kind best...

or the kind shown below...

or the original design, which you can see here?