The price of fame

Some have wondered at my decision to adopt such elaborate disguises when out in public, but I have my reasons.

There may well be positives to my level of fame, such as lovely lady fans.

Sometimes they can be overly forward,

but I accept that we all have our cross to bear.

But I'd be lying if I claimed there weren't downsides to my level of fame. Why, just the other day I was enjoying a vegemite cruskit in a discreet celebrity hangout...

when I looked up and spotted the telltale zoomlens of one of the parasites of the popular press.

It really is such a damned nuisance when all you're after is a bit of anonymity.

And now there are all these highly unflattering images of me in wide circulation.

I'm sure you'd be choking on your own rage too.

Do come and stay

There's simply no denying that I'm the host with the most. During cousin Erik's visit I introduced him to my favourite toys...

shared some great meals...

and even helped his dad read the newspaper.

Hot on the heels of cousin Erik was Aunty Flan who very much enjoyed my guided tour of Centennial Park.

Even the jackoodle, not to be outdone, went on the charm offensive.

Her none too subtle advances worked a treat on this dark, handsome stranger.

Driving Mister Edgar

While I enjoy the occasional outing on our much maligned trains, by far my favourite mode of transport is the automobile.

So imagine my surprise when, instead of the usual pre-drive baby origami session when chere maman attempts to fold my long limbs into the aptly named infant capsule, I was placed into this plush seat.

After checking the ergonomic qualities of the chair (where's my see-through, bullet-proof pope mobile attachment?) I decided that this really was a vast improvement.

And the in-car entertainment system isn't bad either.

More alarmingly - and I do hate to end my post on such an ominous note - Silas, the crazy albino monk, has apparently been spotted in Undercliffe.

Canbrrrrrrrrrrrrra

It sure was cold on our latest trip to the berra so I was thrown into a reverie of gratitude over this stunning warm cardigan which Robbie knitted for me.

The central heating and warm laps at Aunty Croissant's also helped.

And I've found a wonderful source of wool for my next cardie.

No laughing matter

Those of you who have been complaining vociferously over the dearth of blog entries lately should spare a thought for my sufferings. Not only has it been raining non-stop for three weeks, the manny did his back in just as I was most in need of entertainment. Watching him do back exercises is not nearly as much fun as the magnificent men in their flying machines game.

Fortunately a spare manny was brought in to offer some light relief.

And then a parcel arrived from Grannie and Granddad with this lovely cardigan - thanks!

What with the rain and pain, chere maman decided to amuse herself by dressing me up in silly hats.

I started out quite obliging.

I even posed for the camera.

But as the hats grew more ridiculous I became increasingly reluctant.

I suddenly thought of Anne Geddes which wiped the smile right off my face.

Really, this is no laughing matter. Can someone please help me before I'm stripped of the last vestiges of my dignity?