The BOM tribulations

 Poor old BOM.

So bereft of the touch of the people, a very middle-child response was launched by some bureaucratic marketing department and they decided that they didn't want to be called such a destructive homophone - does that make them homophoneophobic? - and preferred the more grown up version.

Nonsense, said the general public, we like your old stuff better than your new stuff.

They reverted to BOM and we saw fit to ignore them again.

So came time for their security upgrade, as burglars of today think nothing of mining your search history for when you are to be absent and your locale being more identifiable.

*Why not " the faceless them if the Bureau thought "change the curtains while the opportunity presents" but chose to the most godawful mustard frill and misspelled Chinese cheap shit curtains for the Reno and the mother-in-law complained.

And I totally get it. Lives may well be lost if they stuff up because of seemingly minor irritating merde as this.

But all of my ancestors came by boat to this land 150-260 years ago, and they placed their lives into the hands of cavaliers harnessing the wind and a great deal of hope towards the goal of getting over to the other side of the planet.

And they would have dreamt of a time that they could have known what tomorrow would bring, let along the lottery of crossing.

But poor old BOM needs our attention and the knowledge that they fit into our landscape without these outbreaks.

So that is a longabout way of saying that it is stormy again here tonight and we hope to goodness that common sense and BOM work together on an upcoming sailing trip for a member of the family.

Oh, and my shortlist went to two on Monday when one contender just seemed a little pokey.

To one by Friday lunch when I got the guts to enquire about the expensive but ve-ry nice one within spitting distance of work and discovered "under offer" the straight arm defence.

Which makes it basically Zero as my very first enquiry remains disengaged so I am doomed to never be an internet acquaintance from early this century's next door neighbour.

I had a brief love affair with one near the end of a cul-de-sac but alas it to had been promised within three days of offer.

The market is what is known as hot. Task one - sell and step into the unknown.

At that profundity the thunder rolled across the heavens and I will have to bid adieu.

I am to be away before 6 tomorrow so now must sleep.

Good night.