Here we are. Never seen so much piffle in my puff. Slept on the ferry, on the plane and now hours in Oslo airport, which is an airport near Oslo if that’s the word I want. “Preffy profesfoirouf prefphle preffle yelffle” goes the wise words of Sascha the Waiter. Well, we all are if you get the duff. Awfully wise words, don’t you say?

Since I have finished Jeeves the omnibus, the shortest history of Greece is all that’s worthwhile reading, but the first peasant died so I got bored.

Record winds have been recorded, and are now on record: Elliot has achieved new levels of gusting – the only disappointment is that a wind turbine has not yet been installed in the point from where the wind comes, as it is predicted that many volts could be collected and used for the most important aspect of camping: charging phones.

If brother E is gusting, then brother S(as) is definitely dis-gusting, by definition, as he does not gust yet still smells. As for me, I am sticky.

Here is a poem to artistically expegetically illustrate the current situation of waiting:

Here waiting in the airport

And I am really too bored(t)

To finish this poem or make it rhyme,

Even with so much more time.