What did 2013 do for me?

You know, it was alright really. Probably. Looking back at the pictures on Facebook, I sometimes wonder whether I had better experiences, or if I just got better at taking pictures to make it look like I had better experiences. That’s social media for you though, isn’t it.

Here’s a breakdown of the year.


I still have to take a couple of attempts at spelling January which is a bit embarrassing, but on the whole it was a good start to the year. I was slightly obsessed with making Lego versions of famous people, and pretty much devoted all my free time to that end. I also started this blog.


The cast of Black Books

Sample Facebook status:

I just spent 5 minutes teaching Alex how to sing ‘Do You Believe’ by Cher, using an oscillating fan. Important life lesson, check.


February was nice and hot, and Alex and I took  a trip to the Adelaide gaol and looked at a broom cupboard, and a hanging tower (creepy). Dan and I also spent a charming Valentine’s Day at The Botanical Gardens.

Is the apostrophe warranted in Valentine’s Day?


Valentines Day

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I just dreamt that the American version of ‘In The Night Garden’ was voiced by Henry Winkler… and that it was set in Iraq. 


This is the month I officially became a bit obsessed with Sparks, providing, as they do, music that doesn’t make me cry. It’s as simple as that. Up until then I had been reliably weeping on the bus to virtually any old crap that popped up on my ipod.

Sample Facebook Status:

Harmony day today, and the kids have to wear orange to school. I’ll see if I can find a traffic cone on the way.


I turned 37 and continued to be plagued by dreams of vampires, death and Jeremy Clarkson. I also met my fellow pommie friend Rach and celebrated St Georges Day, in typical English fashion, (ie drinking quietly in the corner of the pub, whilst boorish, British, bloaters belted out Jerusalem at the bar).

My birthday cake looked like pigs drowning in a sewage treatment works. Mmmm.


Pigs in poo.

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Ok, so I just spread plum jam on my toast and a bit of ‘plum’ seemed to move. I think it may be the thing that crawled into Chekov’s ear in ‘The Wrath of Khan’. 
I’ll have some cornflakes.


May was a bit cold and rainy, and I think I just stayed in and watched Sparks videos on YouTube most of the time. Popping out occasionally to develop a small cider habit that continues to this day. I think Rach and I started our Radio Free Mitherers podcast this month. I may have been a bit tipsy at the time.


Horribly Addictive Cider

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Is it any small coincidence that the most delicious word to say, when doing an Alan Rickman impression, is ADENOID.


June continued to be wet and dull, and I may have spent quite a bit of time in my pyjamas. Looking at Facebook doesn’t jog any memories, but apparently I recorded this:

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I can’t believe I just wrote ‘I’m a sucker for a hairy pianist’ in a message.  
No actually, I can.


We celebrated your birthday Sarah, in typical fashion, with glow sticks and sparklers and a cake that didn’t look like a sewage treatment plant.


Cakey cake.

And we caught a beautiful sunset that had your name written all over it.


Happy 47th Birthday Sarah. xxxx

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The smelly old guy on the bus, who decided to sit a little too close to me, soon moved to another seat when I made a clear display of my enormous hands.
Manhands rule. 


This is the period where Dan and I got seriously into Jeremy Brett’s Sherlock Holmes. I will always have fond memories of spilling nachos all over the bed and trying to stay awake to see either Sherlock, or Watson, ejaculate a “Mrs Hudson!” or some similar phrase.  Class.

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Turns out it’s really hard to play Jenga with Lego bricks.


Spring was in the air and my bush was a-buzzing with bees. Whilst still obsessed with Sparks and Sherlock, I did manage to squeeze in the time to be obsessed with Space:1999. Mum came over from England and I got busy preparing for Alex’s birthday party.

Here’s a spider that made the error of entering our house sometime that month.


Huge spider

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If my computer ever gets searched I will have to explain why I just looked up “How to pickle a face in a jar”


Busy old month, Alex turned 12 on the 3rd and we had a party in the park. Mum was still here, and we booked up a chalet and spent the anniversary of your passing by the beach, Sarah. It seems like the natural place to go to think of you, and reflect on your life and what you meant to us. Sunset was another beaut.


West Beach

Halloween was celebrated in usual style, I cut a dash as Tank Girl, but everyone made an effort.


Tank Girl (aged 37)

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I have bought a huge beach ball and I intend to throw it at children’s faces today. I know, there’s a name for people like me.


We attended the Gay Pride march and Alex had a blast performing in his school musical. I also dallied with a streak of pink hair.


Yes, I’m 37.

Sadly Lewis Collins passed away, thus leading me to revisit The Professionals and six-year-old Suzanne’s obsession with Bodie and jumping over the bonnet’s of Ford Capris. In fact my New Years Resolution is to learn how to leap over EVERYTHING, Bodie style. Expect to hear about broken ankles in the near future.


Oh, I also discovered the ‘What would I say?’ app on Facebook.

Facebook Sample Status

 I just, accidentally, superglued my trousers to my eye.

Sweet afternoon in the bath and hunt him with a wet derrierre.

I bunged some apricot pies in the air that Jay Z has written an album about my poo.


Ah, hot weather and Christmas madness. I drew a face on a melon and then couldn’t face eating it. Rach cooked us a delicious Christmas dinner, and we had a tipsy turn at Game of Life where Dan was a gay pilot and Alex had seven children. Much fun was had.


Aloof French Melon

We had a ball on the beach on New Years Eve. Literally.  Hoho. I am determined to spend more time enjoying the ridiculously glorious weather at the beach, and less time in my pyjamas watching 70’s tv shows. The future is still bright and shiny. Bring on the New Year.


Do these shorts make my ball look big?

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I just spent 2 hours decorating the christmas tree and it still looks like I just threw it all on in one go, whilst speeding past on a bicycle.


About oddboggle

Here are the letters I write to Sarah, aka Sarge, who will be sadly missed but never forgotten.
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