Diary of Edward Teach, Semi-reformed Pirate & Laundryologist
I'm feeling a bit under the weather this week due to my plinth being moved to an outdoor location with no shelter from the elements. Yesterday a robin landed on my shoulder and sneezed right in my face without even covering his mouth. I must be ill.
I don't have the strength to write my usual informative analysis of contemporary openings, so against chess.com guidelines I have asked my friend and semi-reformned pirate, Edward Teach (aka Blackbeard, c. 1680 – 22 November 1718) to fill in for me with a vaguely chess related diary-type-entry:
Ahoy me harties!
Excuse me, but old habits die hard. It is I, Edward Teach, once terror of the high seas but now retired and reformed and living in a mediocre suburb of Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. I've given all the pirate stuff up now and enjoy an exciting life working in a dry cleaner & laundrette. Here's me at work:
The man at the counter is Jason. I think he's great but he hates my guts and he calls me rude names like "Anna Chrome-ism". My boss is a lady called Mrs. Vomit, but you can't see her because she took the picture. Aargh, she be a fine woman, with four of her own teeth, but she is out of my league. Mrs. V owns the Laundrette:
Here I am outside on the day when Talking Heads front man and songwriter David Byrne walked past our shop and contributed whimsical and esoteric lyrics into our lives. As you can see he is only samll.
After a hard day getting all of the sodden fluff anf hair out of the washing manchine filters Mrs. Vomit said I could go home once the toilets were scrubbed. After some deft strokes of the toilet brush and a sly swig from my grog flask, it was time to set sale for home!
My first port of call however, was Blockbuster, where I weighed anchor to pick up the next season of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, which I am completely re-watching for the seventh time. I'm just up to the part where Buffy is worried about some vampires again and only her self-empowerment can save the day.
Walking home I was looking forward to an evening of instant noodles and Sarah Michelle-Gellar, when off to the port side I spied my arch nemesis and deadly enemey, Bartholomew Roberts (17 May 1682 – 10 February 1722).
He thinks he's the best pirate ever since they made that film The Princess Bride where he was the main one. It is a good film, but not very true to real life and it made me cross because I should have been the goodie.
Roberts was showing off and beating some children at chess. I took a swig of grog and then challenged him to a game to decide who was the best after all:
After all that it was time to go home and relax before another hard day at the laundrette with Mrs. Vomit and Jason (who hates me). I can't wait for tomorrow!
Goodbye me hearties!
(Mr S. Reasonable is unwell)
