Another important distinguishing feature of owls is their ability to fly. If I am also going to be able to fly, then the obvious method is to obtain some wings and some feathers, and attach them to my body. However, I suspect that this will be a little difficult, so I am going to explore an alternative method.
What if there was a limited version of flying, available to humans without any additional modifications or training required? Though not as flexible as the method which owls use, it does at least allow you to fly in one direction pretty quickly.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: falling.
I’ve been practicing this quite a bit. I’m getting rather good at it. Though these funny marks are appearing on my head and I seem to be losing control of the right hand sde f bd

We have addressed matters of motivation and sartory, and the next issue on our agenda is to master that fabulous trick that owls do with their necks where they rotate it by such a phenomenal angle that you lose track of which side of the owl is the front.
To do this, we must double the number of vertebrae in our neck from 7 to 14. So, conveniently enough, all we need to do is assimilate someone else’s neck.

This task being completed, we shall move swiftly on.
It’s a related fact that an owl’s eyes are more cylindrically shaped than our spherical efforts, which means that they can’t turn them side to side. However, I expect that they can probably do a cool rotatey kaleidoscope trick. Or perhaps not.

There are a number of crucial steps required to become an owl.
The first, and most important, is to want to be an owl. This, as we have already seen, I have taken care of.
The next step is to look like an owl. To do this, procure a baggy jumper, and put it on, but don’t put your arms into the sleeves. Sit down with your knees up to your chest, and pull the hem down as far as you can. Grab hold of your feet, and you are an owl!
I am quite an inflexible chap, so for the purpose of demonstration, I kneeled and grabbed hold of my knees instead. We will deal with my inflexibility in the next instalment, which will address matters of rotating one’s neck through many many degrees. Don’t miss it, yeh?

This week, I’m going to be an owl.
Damn, owls are cute. I’ve always liked owls.
UPDATE: As always, flickr is a good place to find photos.

This day has been a most productive one, and were Flickr currently functioning, I would be happy to show you a picture of my bra. Or indeed of any of the five such items that I bought this morning, following a fitting session at John Lewis. This is a much less glamorous or titillating experience than one might assume, so stop drooling, Sevitz; the very no-nonsense lady measures you with a tape measure and, with one disapproving glance at the shabby and ill-fitting garment you are currently wearing, she disappears to the stockroom to seek something in sensible white, that will fit itself perfectly to your curves.
Turns out I’ve been very, very wide of the mark in terms of both bust measurement and cup size; but fear not: I am now properly supported, and the happy owner of not one [sensible, white] but five [interesting colours, with lacy bits] new bras. And some knickers.
Anyway, all this talk of breasts isn’t making us any less thirsty, is it. I’d better sort out that pint for the Doctor of Death, who is probably somewhat discomfited by all this discussion of his sister’s underclothes. Sorry about that. Incidentally, obit season is now officially over – we mourn its passing. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you should definitely read his site more often.
The prize for finding China goes to Adrian, and while we’re here, please don’t forget the topically entitled Second Annual Bloggers’ Bra, tomorrow afternoon somewhere in London.
The geographically-challenged among my guests, namely Ade and Stuart are most welcome to their Singapore Slings. I appreciate that it was a difficult one to call; I didn’t experience a great deal of alcohol in China, except for on one occasion, when I did experience a great deal of plum wine, which is exceptionally nice, like sloe gin but lighter.
On a more authentically Chinese note, a round of properly oriental drinks for Gordon, Timbo and estee, all of whom seem to know what they’re talking about.
In the Creative Corner, krissa has matched royalty to former colony; and Lyle has simply made something up. Fair enough.
And there’s always one who eschews such virtual nonsense as themed cocktails, and asks for something random. But I’ll forgive Gert her request for champagne, because I know she’s a fellow devotee of the bra-fitting experience. Talking of which, flickr seems to have sorted itself out now…

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