Egg

I write a blog every single week, I make a living with computers and I’ve spent nearly 14 years with a company specialising in online and social media engagement. As such I’m uniquely unqualified to not understand what the hell Twitter is. As a non-user the best I can gather is that it’s a bewildering inefficient text messaging service where you don’t specify to whom you send messages, but who’s messages you would like to receive.

People write short messages to either tell a joke, show off, or tell the public what they’re doing.

On Saturday when I went out to lunch I would have liked to be a twitterer. I was in a branch of Wagamama (the Japanese themed restaurant) and I ordered and ate something just because it sounded so odd and unappealing on the menu. I’d have enjoyed telling the world about it without leaving my seat.

@RJB just eaten half a tea stained egg #wagamama

Richard "noodle bar" B

Salute

On Friday I went out drinking in Plymouth. Just like in the old days we saw the Bird Man. I think his star in on the wane now, but the Bird Man used to be a really famous Plymouth drinker. He was always out and about, people were always buying him drinks, waving, cheering, and having their photo taken with him.

Interestingly he comes from an extremely musical family and his mum taught my favorite local singer to play the piano.

When I saw the Bird Man on Friday I was seated, I raised my arm and waved. He saw me and waved back. I then tried to stretch my arm out further to kind of acknowledge his wave, or to engage in some long-distance tele-high-five, or something. I don’t know, I had been drinking. What it actually meant was that I accidentally offered the Bird Man a Nazi salute.

Richard "Sieg Heil" B

Stepping Stone

I spent a few days last week on Exmoor. We visited Tarr steps, which is an ancient clapper bridge over the Barle river, and walked along the river bank. I balanced along a set of stepping stones to a large boulder in the middle of the river. The penultimate stone wasn’t at all secure and it gave way. I ended up half on the boulder half in the river. My shoe, sock, one trouser leg, and I were underwater to the knee and my shin was heavily grazed. The real problem however was that the "stepping stone" had rolled away and there was no easy way back.

I considered taking up residence where I was and living the rest of my life on a boulder in the middle of the Barle, or stripping off some of my still-dry clothes and wading back to the bank. I eventually managed to precariously replace the stepping stone, and I can only imagine that exactly the same thing will happen when the next tourist comes past.

Richard "fell in a river" B

Deepthroat

A few weeks ago, when I was in a band, we played at a 50th birthday party. We were very well prepared and we played excellently, although the girl singer did have to skip a couple of lines of a song to cough and gulp down water. The next day I was texting her and I said "I really enjoyed last night. You were fantastic. I'm sorry it made you have a coughing fit." As soon as I'd pressed send I realised what it sounded like, and I was quite worried that her husband might read it.

"I really enjoyed last night. You were fantastic. I'm sorry it made you have a coughing fit."

Richard “context” B