Yep… this post was written under the cloud of seriously brewing trouble. All sorts of trouble. BIG trouble. Why so? A litany of issues, if you really want to know. I’ll begin at the beginning… aaaah, not again! This blog is becoming worse that a game of Monopoly. Back to the beginning with you… if you pass the start via the jail then… I can’t remember the catch phrase. What I can remember… if you passed go without so and so you were in trouble… BIG trouble. Life?
Gosh, how far have I digressed? My trouble stems from my own boldness. Yep, when Ailsa put out this week’s challenge I chirped something along the lines of I won’t be partaking as Ireland has nothing big… apart from egos and hangovers.
Somehow I think I picked a very big stick for myself. Big, see… there you have it. However, big trouble of the stick kind is not really big if you’re used to opening your big mouth to often. That I am, indeed! Talking of mouth… here’s a good old one to rub salt in the wounds… put your money where your mouth is. Big mouth… reminds me of another mouth one liner…
Talk is cheap!!
Big mouth… talk, cheap… money… it all spells big. Trouble. There I was… mulling over the endless permutations of big when I realised I really was in big trouble. There was a rather big pile of meat to be collected from our favourite butcher after work. That big pile of meat (10Kg/ 22lb) needed attention. The whole saga began some time ago. Meat? Yep, to make our first batch of boerewors… now there’s a BIG taste.
Big pile of meat… no time to find big photos… BIG help from the GLW. Yes, Ireland has many a big sunset but I’m thinking not many as BIG as this one! Thanks, good lady, for saving my big posterior… again! If it wasn’t for your help I would’ve been buried under a rather *** pile… of blogging boo boo’s!