it's not rocket's science

Rocket has recently been asking  if he could be a scientist 

 as well as him having his usual profession of being a prince - as he's heard so many people refer to his so called science. I personally think that when people say "It's not rocket science" they don't realise that actually rocket science is in fact incredibly easy.  In fact the whole thing is a misdemeanour.

Above is HRH Rocket in his normal princely role of dispensing bon mots to the lumpen proletariat or suggesting that people ate cake. After all rocket science is the testing of rocket propelled missiles which he's very good at testing.

                                  

Here is Rocket with his newest favourite toy Scrappy Nelson named after a terrier's blog that he follows. He has had endless fun with Scrappy Nelson - shaking him, throwing him in the air and racing round the house with him all in the service of Rocket's Science. All rockets, no matter the size must have a body, a nose cone, fins and a propellant system.

                                     

Unfortunately Scrappy Nelson no longer has any of those.

 Rocket now looking rather sheepish as Scrappy Nelson doesn't want to play any more.

 Here is one of the Mrs Walter's coming in to see if Pixie has left any food in her bowl.

I asked Pocket (who said that apart from the fact I'd got it wrong and it was Pocket Science ) if he had anything to say on the matter and he looked into the skies and said "I have seen things you people can't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I walked C-beam's gutter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All these moments will be lost in time like tears in rain."

Really? I said So when did you get into space? Sounds as if you've been watching Blade Runner. Are you a Replicant?

He gave me his superior look and disdained to discuss the matter further though I did hear him mutter Replicat as he washed his paws.

Nancy, who rarely features on this blog suggested that we had a show and tell table. I thought this a brilliant idea and set one up for everyone in the lobby. So far on it is a rabbit's foot, the chewed remote for the tv (I wonder who is going to tell about that) what looks like the liver or kidney of a small rodent, a set of someone's whiskers, my missing slipper (also chewed), a dug up tulip bulb,  the remains of my cheque book and a set of keys.

 Pixie who insists she has nothing to do with any of it tells me that her interesting fact is that now Rocket has had my cheque book I'd better watch out he doesn't start ordering things off the internet and hadn't I wondered why a box of dried pigs' ears had arrived on the doorstep. Apparently he'd even forged my signature though he couldn't help himself adding AKA  HRH Rocket .

First They Came

Pastor Martin Niemoller

First they came for the Communists

 And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

 Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

 And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

 Then they came for me

 And there was no one left

To speak out for me.