Another week, nothing achieved.

Another week, nothing gained. Nobody wants my furniture, apart from six gents in Nigeria, one of whom said:

HELLO
I AM INTERESTED IN BUYING ITEM .I LIVE HER IN THE U.S I WILL BE RESTPONSIBLE FOR THE SHIPPMENT DOWN TO MY LOCATION, SO PLEASE KINDLY WRITE ME BACK WITH YOUR LAST OFFERING PRICE,I ALSO NEED THE PIC ,I WILL THEREFORE NEED THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION OF YOURS TO FORWARD TO MY CLIENT BEFORE HE SENDS THE CHECK……
NEME IN FULL………..
ADDRESS IN FULL………
COUNTRY………….
ZIPCODE………..
CELL/OFFICE/HOMENUMBER
WAITING TO HEAR FROM
REGARDS
JOHNSON

You can’t have my neme, you can’t have my number, you can’t have my “special order delivery note by Western Union”. You, sir, are a Johnson.

And it’s very rare that I laugh out loud, particularly at the inane nonsense in the Blogosphere, but Harry Hutton of Chase me ladies made me do just that:

“We owe a great debt of gratitude to Britain’s teachers. If it weren’t for them we’d all be speaking German. And French. And Latin. And be able to do sums.”

This weekend I mean to do something.