When I think thoughts that have no transatlantic connection at all I try to keep them off my blog. You really don't want to know what I think about Russell Brand on Paxman, do you? Exactly.
Well, I'm breaking the rules for this post. Here goes.
As the apple season draws to a close we received the last of many bags of apples from our dear friend and landlady. I attacked them with our old rusty peeler. TLOML wanted to get rid of this peeler when we started weaning Lady P, because it is so rusty. I actually fished it out of the bin because I found the replacement peeler so slippery and hard to hold. TLOML agrees, it's a blighter to use. It has cut me, drawing blood, every time I have used it. So this time, as so many times before, I tipped the enormous bag of apples out on the countertop and - shunning the new peeler - started prepping them with the rusty old peeler.
Cue the arrival of TLOML. 'What can I do?' he said.
'You can help peel these apples,' I replied. 'You'll have to use that dangerous new peeler though.'
'I hate that peeler,' he said. 'In fact, I'm going to get to the bottom of it. There must be a trick to using it.'
At which point he started googling how to use the new peeler. There are a surprising number of videos about how to use a so-called 'banjo' peeler on line. Here's one of my favourites:
I did muse, as I peeled the apples and TLOML watched the videos, about why so many people make these boring potato peeler videos. Who on earth watches them? I wondered. Oh, right. Us.
The sad thing is that all those videos didn't help at all. It's still a slippery peeler. And it took TLOML the entire time it took me to peel the apples, to find this out.
Here's a picture of TLOML watching videos about how to use the peeler. The apple in shot is the last one of the dozen or so that I peeled. Notice the trusty rusty peeler, resting, blood free on the board while the evil sharp one lurks, ready to slice fingers.
Sorry. I'll get back on theme next time I promise.