I missed the blog again. I spent last night manipulating the voice of Tom Baker. No, honest! I did. I may need to explain.
I've been emotionally dislocated over the last couple of weeks, and, along with a few other things, it's been bothering me a little. So, I've spent the last few evenings in solitude, trying to reconnect with the Grumpster in myself and have a conversation with her about what exactly is biting my ass so badly that it's turning me into a Blue Meanie.
Last night I had planned to do the same, and I had set myself up nicely with a simple dinner (pig and roasted vegetables) and a bottle of wine (chosen by the Chief, who we bow to in all things tasteful) for some quiet, relaxing reflection and an evening with a good book (but more of that later). As you may already have guessed, and as I have mentioned a thousand times before about my best laid plans, they all fell to the wayside.
My brother turned up to pick up some money I owed him shortly after I came in from work, and just as I was cooking dinner. We chatted for a bit, shared my meal and opened the wine. Then I mentioned a joke (and I use the term loosely) that he had sent me by text message to my landline. I don't know how many of you use this facility, but if you send a text to a landline, a computerised voice reads the message out for you. It's really very clever.
As I explained to my brother, the voice that reads the message has changed, and it's gone from being a highly digitised female who reads everything in a monotone, to sounding like, well, like Tom Baker. Matt swears that on his phone, the voice is a woman from somewhere in India, but on mine, it's definitely Tom Baker. Please feel free to experiment with sending texts to your own landline and let me know your voice.
You'd have to know my brother for this to be obvious, but once he discovered that my phone can speak like Tom Baker, the course of the evening was pretty much certain. We spent the rest of the evening sending texts to my phone and getting Tom Baker to say outlandish things. Obviously a sigificant amount of wine was consumed, but it really was hilarious fun, and before I could say 'Good Lord, isn't that an old fashioned police box?' I was far too drunk to write the blog.
I have considered allowing myself to write the blog when inebriated, but I'm not sure who would suffer more for it, me or you. Anyway, I'm currently trying to work on a way to upload the various messages of Tom Baker onto the blog for you (WARNING: some of them contain swearing and not to be listened to by Miss Drusilla for this reason. Dru, I had nothing to do with the swearing bits, I promise!).
Three Beautiful Things
1. Hi Sarah. It's Tom Baker. Yes, that's right, Tom bloody Baker.
3. Unexpected evenings and laughing until you're making silly noises through your nose