One Marble Down, How Many To Go?

Yesterday, whilst preparing tea and toast for breakfast, I put a teabag in the toaster. My Auntie Pollie was thrilled when I told her; she said it's always reassuring when someone much younger than her shows signs of losing their marbles, too.

Which brought me to wondering, how many marbles does one actually have, and once one starts losing them, what is the average drop-off rate? How long can I expect to maintain my sanity.

'It depends,' says Gonzo. He is sitting atop the Christmas tree, respendent in his new frock glory.
'On what?' I say.
'Well, species, maturity, holes in your marble bag, your base line for assessing insanity,' he continues.

'Do carry on,' I say. After all, I've nothing better to do for an hour or so, than listen to the wise philospohy of a Muppet in a fairy get-up.

'For instance,' says Gonzo, ' is there any incidence of insanity in your family?'

I lie back on the couch and clasp my fingers together. 'Well, my maternal grandmother thought there was a man who lived behind the chimney pots on the house across the road from hers,' I say.
'Was this the grandmother who was partial to sherry?' asks Gonzo.
'Yes,' I say.

'Then she wasn't mad,' says Gonzo. 'Just pickled.'

'And my Dad's brother went a bit funny with a full moon,' I say.
'Oh, I do that,' says Gonzo, airily. 'It's the pull of the water distorting the brain cells. Nothing to worry about there, and certainly not a sign of insanity.'
'Whew!' I say, because being a Scorpio and a water sign, I've often had my concerns re: a full moon.'

Gonzo pauses for a while and uses his wand to clear some wax from his ear. (I'm so sorry - I've no idea why I wrote that; it was gross, as they say in America, and I apologise. I think it's because I'm allowing myself some freedom from my inner censor at the moment.)

'I think you're at a relatively low risk from mental decline, ' Gonzo continues. 'And besides, from my observations of you, your activities appear quite, quite normal.'
'Good,' I say. It's always nice to be told one is within the bounds of normal human behaviour.
'Although I did think you were losing the plot slightly when you tried to make me look like Ann Boleyn,' says Gonzo.
'Oh, here we go,' I say. 'I knew you'd bring this up. It was just a few seed pearls, that's all. I thought they would add a bit of class to your outfit.'
'Tinsel is the only way to go at Christmas,' says Gonzo.
'Don't you think there is such a thing as too much tinsel?' I say.
'No,' says Gnozo, 'and please make an effort to spell my name correctly.'

The problem occured, you see, when I decided to re-style Gonzo's fairy outfit. I thought he was too glittery. I thought sophistication should be the order of the day for the MMM Xmas Atmos '09. I was thinking maribou feather, I was thinking purple chiffon ribbon, I was thinking Dita von Teese.

Gonzo, however, was thinking explosion in a tinsel factory.

'But a maribou feather bolero is classy,' I said, once I'd wrestled him from his knitted tank top 'n' tinsel combo he'd worn for the last 3 Christmases.
'I want my tinsel back,' he said. We had a bit of a fight, which I won because I am big and human and he is a small stuffed Muppet. But I did concede to tinsel cuffs. You see, I'm not totally unbending to the wishes of others.

The second area of tinsel attire that needed addressing was his halo.
'I'm going to make you a crown instead,' I said. 'I think passing you off as an angel with a halo is pushing it. don't you?'

And this is where the seed pearls came into play. And yes, okay, once I'd faffed about with jeweller's wire and double sided tape and these bloomin' pearls that pinged and zipped everywhere, the tinsel option was looking very appealing. But I'm dogmatic, aren't I? Once I decide to do something my way, there is no negotiation, because I KNOW BEST!!

'I look like Ann Boleyn,' said Gonzo, peering at himself in the mirror.
'You do not,' I said. 'Ann Boleyn was a pale English rose. You are blue.'
'What if Henry tries to chop off my head,' said Gonzo. 'He's a very jealous king, you know.'
'He's been dead for more than 400 years,' I said.
'And chopper happy, too,' said Gonzo, who was looking quite pale now. 'Chop, chop, chop; hack, slash, hack. My life could be in danger because of this seed pearl crown. Henry might see it as a gift from a secret admirer.'
'Stop it,' I said.
'Heeeellllpppppppp meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,' screeched Gonzo.

So I eventually capitulated and made him a tinsel crown.

Here's a picture. You be the judge.