Week 115, Relish the old

As the previous year is brushed aside by the unlikely appearance of a clock's sweeping second hand, take a look a the good stuff that happened previously on "Chronoligicarse: the everyday story of our mooching about."

January

This month saw the end of the use of relish as a condiment; January has now been renamed Endo's to commemorate the event.

February

Finally the word 'cupcake' has usurped the once dominant term 'fairy cake'.  Fairies everywhere were up in arms, now having to clamber into giant 'cups' or paper bun cases.  This had been coming for some time.

March

This month saw the start of the season of spring, or 'series' as it would more accurately be known.

April

Come she will.  We're still waiting - that's climate change for you.

May

An interesting prediction by this month, apparently, if correct, we would have another woman PM before the ides of July.  Unless there had been an oracular translation error, in which case Ian Duncan Smith would become a woman MP before that date.  We eventually discovered it was one or the other.

June

Nothing to see here.

July

The anniversary of the first moon walk, an event watched live by a young Michael Jackson and which inspired him to go on and reach for the stars.

August

Some character called Rube Goldberg started to be invoked on occasions where it would be more culturally appropriate to mention Heath Robinson.  I can only assume the complexities of Heath Robinson were too much to comprehend, hence this interesting, yet sub-standard alternative.

September

The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness started here.  Not sure why we aren't still calling this 'fall', perhaps by the next time swallows twitter in the skies we will be.

October

Bon anniversaire, bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, if rapidly increasing in age.

November

Nothing stark staring mad or dumb-as-fuck bone-crazy happened here, oh no.

December

With an emphasis on the pronunciation with an Edinburgh Morningside accent.  It is not unusual at this time of year to attempt regional accents, this is not racist, usually.


So, all in all a rather quiet year, apart from the odd bit of cultural fuckwittery.  A seasonal gang ye well, and during the long cold months may your socks never turn to clooties.

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