wikiHow - The How-To Manual That Anyone Can Write or Edit
Interesting website. Anyone else remember the show 'How'? I don't really.
Stayed at Dad's last night - Freddie (my little brother) was being a little terror; hot and belligerent. Had pasta and salad (and cheese)...faffed around with his wireless network.
OK: My Dad and stepmum are completely computer illiterate; they got a guy to come in and set up the network router (who didn't do the wireless bit, as they didn't think they needed it). I was trying to find out the WEP key to use my laptop on the wireless. Long story (relatively) short, I discovered that this guy had changed the password of the router from the default (which I needed to find the key) - very sensible, prevents unauthorised access. He had not, however, told Dad and Dawn what the new one was! Neither of them knew what I was talking about, and said they wouldn't need it anyway...but still...
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Stomp!
Well, nobody commented. I'm going to assume somebody reads this blog and cares though, so I'm going to blog now anyway.
Last night, we went to see Stomp. It was amazing. I went years ago with my Dad, but this was even better than I remember. I urge everyone to go and see it.
We caught the train down to London at 15:44 (Julia surprising me with a bag of Liquorice Allsorts) and got to Kings Cross at around 5 - on the way I read an excellent book 'Who are the Illuminati?'; written by a lady who seeks to examine the true historical facts behind the Illuminati and all the myths that have sprung up around them.
We got to London, caught the (insanely hot) tube down to Charing Cross, and looked in the big Waterstones before wandering off to find somewhere to eat. We ended up choosing the Spaghetti House ('50 years of Italian excellence!') which apparently had only 2 waiting staff for about 70 patrons. The food and service were both great though. We also sat next to a very amusing pair of middle aged ladies, gossiping about all and sundry. Especially sundry.
We walked down to the theatre, and took our seats - on time, thankyouverymuch! There was this couple who came in just after it had started, sat right in front of us, then talked for a couple of minutes. I was tempted to tear his head off, but instead I just knifed him a little.
Then started the show - it's sort of freeform percussion using loads of different everyday objects (brooms, sinks, plastic bags, sticks, matchboxes, bins, street signs, etc) and the sheer energy and beat blows you away. Amazing. And a wonderful 18th birthday present.
Anyways, caught the train back (had an argument with my mirror self; cheeky beggar) and went to sleep, after reading Julia a palindromic poem from a book I have. I may put it up here later.
Woke up around half 10 this morning, and haven't really done much. Apart from nothing. A lot of nothing.
Last night, we went to see Stomp. It was amazing. I went years ago with my Dad, but this was even better than I remember. I urge everyone to go and see it.
We caught the train down to London at 15:44 (Julia surprising me with a bag of Liquorice Allsorts) and got to Kings Cross at around 5 - on the way I read an excellent book 'Who are the Illuminati?'; written by a lady who seeks to examine the true historical facts behind the Illuminati and all the myths that have sprung up around them.
We got to London, caught the (insanely hot) tube down to Charing Cross, and looked in the big Waterstones before wandering off to find somewhere to eat. We ended up choosing the Spaghetti House ('50 years of Italian excellence!') which apparently had only 2 waiting staff for about 70 patrons. The food and service were both great though. We also sat next to a very amusing pair of middle aged ladies, gossiping about all and sundry. Especially sundry.
We walked down to the theatre, and took our seats - on time, thankyouverymuch! There was this couple who came in just after it had started, sat right in front of us, then talked for a couple of minutes. I was tempted to tear his head off, but instead I just knifed him a little.
Then started the show - it's sort of freeform percussion using loads of different everyday objects (brooms, sinks, plastic bags, sticks, matchboxes, bins, street signs, etc) and the sheer energy and beat blows you away. Amazing. And a wonderful 18th birthday present.
Anyways, caught the train back (had an argument with my mirror self; cheeky beggar) and went to sleep, after reading Julia a palindromic poem from a book I have. I may put it up here later.
Woke up around half 10 this morning, and haven't really done much. Apart from nothing. A lot of nothing.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
How's this for staying power?
Yet again I blog, as a demonstration of my extreme staying power. My skin actually now exretes glue through the pores, having ran out of sweat the past couple of days.
Had my first driving lesson for over a month this morning - it was good, apart from the bad bits. Just a bit of spit and polish, and I should be ready for my test on the 28th! Oh, and I need to learn how to drive. Might help.
I was going to type 'Definitely might help.' there, but I'm not sure if it's grammatically correct. Let me check. Spellings right.
In my search, I found a lovely new word - grammaticaster. It means a 'piddling gramamarian', where a grammarian is a person who has made a study of grammar, a teacher of or writer on grammar. Oh, and piddling means 'trifling, paltry'. And paltry means 'meagre, mean, of poor quality, trashy, worthless, not worth considering'.
Where was I? Ah yes. I'll leave whether the statement is grammatically correct to all you grammaticasters out there, and return to my day.
Having said that, not much else has happened yet. Watched Scrubs, cleaned the bathroom...I am waiting for Julia to arrive in half an hour to take me out somewhere for my birthday surprise!
I have no idea where she's taking me, but it involves the train...and we leave at about half 3 and get back at about half 11.
If anyone reads this this afternoon, post your ideas on what it might be, and I'll blog back tomorrow. Maybe you could get a pool going.
Had my first driving lesson for over a month this morning - it was good, apart from the bad bits. Just a bit of spit and polish, and I should be ready for my test on the 28th! Oh, and I need to learn how to drive. Might help.
I was going to type 'Definitely might help.' there, but I'm not sure if it's grammatically correct. Let me check. Spellings right.
In my search, I found a lovely new word - grammaticaster. It means a 'piddling gramamarian', where a grammarian is a person who has made a study of grammar, a teacher of or writer on grammar. Oh, and piddling means 'trifling, paltry'. And paltry means 'meagre, mean, of poor quality, trashy, worthless, not worth considering'.
Where was I? Ah yes. I'll leave whether the statement is grammatically correct to all you grammaticasters out there, and return to my day.
Having said that, not much else has happened yet. Watched Scrubs, cleaned the bathroom...I am waiting for Julia to arrive in half an hour to take me out somewhere for my birthday surprise!
I have no idea where she's taking me, but it involves the train...and we leave at about half 3 and get back at about half 11.
If anyone reads this this afternoon, post your ideas on what it might be, and I'll blog back tomorrow. Maybe you could get a pool going.
Monday, July 03, 2006
The International Conspiracy of the Trilateral Commission
Today has been hot. Very hot. Hot in a very strange way; I would stand up, walk around, and cool down instantly - then I sit down for one second and an unfeasible amount of swear pours out of every pore.
Lazed around for most of the day, doing not much at all with Julia - we watched a couple of episodes of Life of Grime. This is a show which follows around health professionals on their daily jobs - e.g. rat patrol officers, food healthy inspectors - and is surprisingly good. It also breeds a healthy sense of smug superiority.
Had work this evening, from 4:30 till 7:00 - cooler than outside, though not as cool as I'd like. While browsing Infotrac's journals, I came across mention of the Trilateral Commission - the secret masters of the world.
Their website.
350 members of the most influential people in North America, Asia and Europe...and they just get together "to foster closer cooperation among these core democratic industrialized areas of the world with shared leadership responsibilities in the wider international system". Yeah, right. And that yellow stuff in my fridge is butter.
They're controlling us, I tell you! I've requested (and just received, actually) a list of their current members, to try and expose how far their tendrils reach. Apparently it was the hot conspiracy favourite of the early 80s, but now it's not under much suspicion...and it all goes according to their plan.
Fear not, ladies and gentlefolk! I will research and expose the machinations of their evil, so that we may all live in a perfect society under my benevolent rulership. No fists of iron, I promise. Maybe a thumb.
Lazed around for most of the day, doing not much at all with Julia - we watched a couple of episodes of Life of Grime. This is a show which follows around health professionals on their daily jobs - e.g. rat patrol officers, food healthy inspectors - and is surprisingly good. It also breeds a healthy sense of smug superiority.
Had work this evening, from 4:30 till 7:00 - cooler than outside, though not as cool as I'd like. While browsing Infotrac's journals, I came across mention of the Trilateral Commission - the secret masters of the world.
Their website.
350 members of the most influential people in North America, Asia and Europe...and they just get together "to foster closer cooperation among these core democratic industrialized areas of the world with shared leadership responsibilities in the wider international system". Yeah, right. And that yellow stuff in my fridge is butter.
They're controlling us, I tell you! I've requested (and just received, actually) a list of their current members, to try and expose how far their tendrils reach. Apparently it was the hot conspiracy favourite of the early 80s, but now it's not under much suspicion...and it all goes according to their plan.
Fear not, ladies and gentlefolk! I will research and expose the machinations of their evil, so that we may all live in a perfect society under my benevolent rulership. No fists of iron, I promise. Maybe a thumb.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
A real post
Welcome to my new, renovated blog.
Say hello to Charlie, your new host (to the left; your right).
On Friday, it was the Leaver's Service followed by the Leaver's Dinner; a couple of events to mark the end of our time at King's. The Leaver's Service started at the ungodly hour of 8:30 (well, ungodly when you went to sleep at 1am). Everyone milled around for a while, admiring the architecture of the Cathedral, until we were called to our seats and the service began.
It consisted of mainly hymns, readings from the Bible, you know...usual church stuff. There was a goodbye speech from the Head of Sixth Form, Mr David Davies, as it was his last year as well. In true Welsh style, he murmered on for a while about factories and train stations (I think). In a surprise twist at the end of his speech, however, he whipped out an Uzi and leapt over the lectern towards our Headteacher, Mr Longman, screaming about blood payment. Fortunately he was subdued by the choir boys and the service continued.
We were called up to get our Multi-Faith prayer books - a selection of PC musings and prayers from various religions around the world. Unfortunately, Atheism was under-represented. Something like this should have been put in, I feel:
Oh Blind Forces of Nature,
You have done nothing for me;
For I have earned my own survival due to the success of my genes;
Please continue functioning as you have in the past;
Else scientists will be buggered;
But you're not sentient, so why I am talking to you!
I must be crazy.
It could then be accompanied by a picture of a train (to represent those who believe in the Trainity).
After the service, we went out for lunch - myself buying lunch for everyone (well, four people), and we went down to Sports Day to cheer on James, our Year 7 friend.
Sports Day brings up childhood fears and scars within me; I feel it was originally used as a form of punishment for the rougher boys, but when they started competing for real, they thought it should become permanent.
This is, of course, the same 'they' who put that annoying plastic ring around the caps of milk bottles, who are responsible for all the shortcomings of education and healthcare, and who should have done something when it all went wrong in Northern Ireland. I blame the women, don't know about you.
Yet I digress. We went to Sports Day, and cheered on James (Eye of the Tiger!) in his 100m dash. He came 6th, and staggered off somewhere to have a drink. Eager to escape from that Field of Hell - seriously, it must have been about 32 degrees out there - we went to Alex's garden.
Alex has a lovely flat in a very old building behind the Cathedral, and the building's flats share a very large and lovely garden. Alex is the only teenager in the building, so it has been a venue for many youthful debaucheries. They were wild. I mean steel-eroding wild.
On Friday, however, it was more peaceful; we lay around, talked, drank water, and I made an idiot of myself a few times. I can't really remember how, I just remember people laughing at me. Something about gum falling out of my mouth. I'm abused, seriously.
After Alex's, went back to Julia's for a bit, and then comes a curious blank in my memory. Something about snails. My memory scares me. My memory is the masked thug in the alley of my mind.
On to the leaver's dinner. I arrived at 6:30, hung around and talked to Chris and Spanner for a while, before Steg came in and told everyone was waiting outside for me! People must just assume I'd be late.
Everyone looked lovely, but Julia looked especially beautiful. I bought her a corsage - it's like a flower thing you're meant to buy your girl at a dance. I had only found this out the day before (after TWO balls and prom) so panicked and got her one. It was nice though.
It wasn't any ordinary corsage, either. It was the Corsage of Fate, for which I fought with the Florist of Interflora, over the Gate of Queens. I kicked some serious ass for those flowers.
We ate a reasonable dinner, argued about the death penalty, laughed at various things - you know, grownup dinner party stuff. Mr Longman made a short speech, awarding various prizes (Daniel was nominated for, but unjustly did not get, Scruff of the Year). The yearbooks were also distributed! They're quite good - pictures of everyone in the year, accompanied by a short piece written by themselves; I think Matt Benaton's was the funniest. After a frantic search for pens, people went around getting everyone they liked to sign them. Obviously, my hand was aching pretty soon.
I'm kidding.
It just dropped off from the strain.
Seriously.
Anyways; danced some more, walked to Alex's at 1am to read our yearbooks in bemused silence, then went home with Julia. Absolutely exhausted though (went to sleep at 3am, got up for work at 7am). Some other stuff happened this weeked...homeless centre, library, world cup disappointment, warhammer quest death, black and white, doctor who, graveyard, cooking...but that's another story.
I leave you with this story, showing that Terry Pratchett is scarily close to real life (re: the troll's concept of time).
http://www.physorg.com/news69338070.html
Say hello to Charlie, your new host (to the left; your right).
On Friday, it was the Leaver's Service followed by the Leaver's Dinner; a couple of events to mark the end of our time at King's. The Leaver's Service started at the ungodly hour of 8:30 (well, ungodly when you went to sleep at 1am). Everyone milled around for a while, admiring the architecture of the Cathedral, until we were called to our seats and the service began.
It consisted of mainly hymns, readings from the Bible, you know...usual church stuff. There was a goodbye speech from the Head of Sixth Form, Mr David Davies, as it was his last year as well. In true Welsh style, he murmered on for a while about factories and train stations (I think). In a surprise twist at the end of his speech, however, he whipped out an Uzi and leapt over the lectern towards our Headteacher, Mr Longman, screaming about blood payment. Fortunately he was subdued by the choir boys and the service continued.
We were called up to get our Multi-Faith prayer books - a selection of PC musings and prayers from various religions around the world. Unfortunately, Atheism was under-represented. Something like this should have been put in, I feel:
Oh Blind Forces of Nature,
You have done nothing for me;
For I have earned my own survival due to the success of my genes;
Please continue functioning as you have in the past;
Else scientists will be buggered;
But you're not sentient, so why I am talking to you!
I must be crazy.
It could then be accompanied by a picture of a train (to represent those who believe in the Trainity).
After the service, we went out for lunch - myself buying lunch for everyone (well, four people), and we went down to Sports Day to cheer on James, our Year 7 friend.
Sports Day brings up childhood fears and scars within me; I feel it was originally used as a form of punishment for the rougher boys, but when they started competing for real, they thought it should become permanent.
This is, of course, the same 'they' who put that annoying plastic ring around the caps of milk bottles, who are responsible for all the shortcomings of education and healthcare, and who should have done something when it all went wrong in Northern Ireland. I blame the women, don't know about you.
Yet I digress. We went to Sports Day, and cheered on James (Eye of the Tiger!) in his 100m dash. He came 6th, and staggered off somewhere to have a drink. Eager to escape from that Field of Hell - seriously, it must have been about 32 degrees out there - we went to Alex's garden.
Alex has a lovely flat in a very old building behind the Cathedral, and the building's flats share a very large and lovely garden. Alex is the only teenager in the building, so it has been a venue for many youthful debaucheries. They were wild. I mean steel-eroding wild.
On Friday, however, it was more peaceful; we lay around, talked, drank water, and I made an idiot of myself a few times. I can't really remember how, I just remember people laughing at me. Something about gum falling out of my mouth. I'm abused, seriously.
After Alex's, went back to Julia's for a bit, and then comes a curious blank in my memory. Something about snails. My memory scares me. My memory is the masked thug in the alley of my mind.
On to the leaver's dinner. I arrived at 6:30, hung around and talked to Chris and Spanner for a while, before Steg came in and told everyone was waiting outside for me! People must just assume I'd be late.
Everyone looked lovely, but Julia looked especially beautiful. I bought her a corsage - it's like a flower thing you're meant to buy your girl at a dance. I had only found this out the day before (after TWO balls and prom) so panicked and got her one. It was nice though.
It wasn't any ordinary corsage, either. It was the Corsage of Fate, for which I fought with the Florist of Interflora, over the Gate of Queens. I kicked some serious ass for those flowers.
We ate a reasonable dinner, argued about the death penalty, laughed at various things - you know, grownup dinner party stuff. Mr Longman made a short speech, awarding various prizes (Daniel was nominated for, but unjustly did not get, Scruff of the Year). The yearbooks were also distributed! They're quite good - pictures of everyone in the year, accompanied by a short piece written by themselves; I think Matt Benaton's was the funniest. After a frantic search for pens, people went around getting everyone they liked to sign them. Obviously, my hand was aching pretty soon.
I'm kidding.
It just dropped off from the strain.
Seriously.
Anyways; danced some more, walked to Alex's at 1am to read our yearbooks in bemused silence, then went home with Julia. Absolutely exhausted though (went to sleep at 3am, got up for work at 7am). Some other stuff happened this weeked...homeless centre, library, world cup disappointment, warhammer quest death, black and white, doctor who, graveyard, cooking...but that's another story.
I leave you with this story, showing that Terry Pratchett is scarily close to real life (re: the troll's concept of time).
http://www.physorg.com/news69338070.html
A Stopgap
This is a temporary post. To take up some space, because that damnable (aha) Dante's inferno table is messing up the look of my blog while I experiment with CSS.
Julia is next to me. I am hot. She is typing much faster than me, so I feel I must type faster to compensate, lest she subconciously castrate my manhood.
La la la la la la.
Is this enough space yet? I hope so.
What flies underwater?
A bird in a submarine!
Julia is next to me. I am hot. She is typing much faster than me, so I feel I must type faster to compensate, lest she subconciously castrate my manhood.
La la la la la la.
Is this enough space yet? I hope so.
What flies underwater?
A bird in a submarine!
Sunday, June 25, 2006
My soul is pure
The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very High |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | High |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Low |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Very Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Low |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Very Low |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Moderate |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Moderate |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Very Low |
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
Monday, May 15, 2006
A worker's prerogative
It has been a long time since I last blogged; however, let's skip over the usual apologies and just move on. I am lazy, after all.
I am writing this on my new laptop. It is Toshiba...not sure what make. There is the word 'Satellite' printed on it, however. It cost £599 from John Lewis - the Shop at the Top. I should consider a career in advertising.
OK, considered - no.
Only two weeks (well, 9 days now) left at school - then it is over. 13 years of formal education ended - not, as some famous person once said, with a bang, but with a whimper. Everyone at school seems very dejected now - depressed and despairing, with the ominous shadow of exams looming over us.
Hit me with your rythym stick; it's nice to be a lunatic.
Listening to an album I found - Ian Dury and the Blockheads. A great band; surprised I have not heard more of them. Including the classic song, 'Reasons to be Cheerful'.
I am feeling rather cheerful right now, so here's the song's lyrics (with my own comments):
Why don't you get back into bed [repeated quite a few times...a tad depressing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly [True, also true but he's dead, for the word folly]
Good golly Miss Molly and boats [Ooooooh yes. And sure, why not.]
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet [Never heard of either.]
Jump back in the alley and nanny goats [Together? Sick. Plain sick.]
18-wheeler Scammels, Domenecker camels [Camels! Yes!]
All other mammals plus equal votes [Obviously.]
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willy [Heh. Fanny. Willy.]
Being rather silly, and porridge oats [Yup. These are wise men.]
A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it [More of both is needed.]
You're welcome, we can spare it - yellow socks [I have none. Maybe I should.]
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty [That's me.]
Going on 40 - no electric shocks [Aah, the middle-age insulatory effect.]
The juice of the carrot, the smile of the parrot [Damn parrot ate my carrot.]
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks [No claret; plenty of rocks.]
Elvis and Scotty, days when I ain't spotty, [Beam him up.]
Sitting on the potty - curing smallpox [An Elvis reference? Cheap joke.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Health service glasses [Yes! Mine were free.]
Gigolos and brasses [Now steady on there.]
Round or skinny bottoms [Ummm...sure.]
Take your mum to Paris [Not in the near future.]
Lighting up the chalice [Satanic rituals? Maybe not...]
Wee willy harris [Sounds like a great bloke.]
Bantu Stephen Biko, listening to Rico [No idea.]
Harpo, Groucho, Chico [Go Marx! Communist comedy.]
Cheddar cheese and pickle, the Vincent motorsickle [Desperate for a rhyme.]
Slap and tickle [Heh.]
Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale [In one glorious blend.]
balabalabala and Volare [Nonsense. Just silly.]
Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy [Bingo.]
Being in my nuddy [Every day.]
Saying hokey-dokey, singalonga Smokey [It works, it's true.]
Coming out of chokey [The sweet smell of freedom. That damn rat.]
John Coltrane's soprano, Adi Celentano
Bonar Colleano [No idea. Something about singing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Yes yes
dear dear
perhaps next year
or maybe even never
in which case
Reasons to be cheerful part 3 [And goes on...]
A great song. I urge you to download it immediately. Or ask me to send it to you.
I am writing this on my new laptop. It is Toshiba...not sure what make. There is the word 'Satellite' printed on it, however. It cost £599 from John Lewis - the Shop at the Top. I should consider a career in advertising.
OK, considered - no.
Only two weeks (well, 9 days now) left at school - then it is over. 13 years of formal education ended - not, as some famous person once said, with a bang, but with a whimper. Everyone at school seems very dejected now - depressed and despairing, with the ominous shadow of exams looming over us.
Hit me with your rythym stick; it's nice to be a lunatic.
Listening to an album I found - Ian Dury and the Blockheads. A great band; surprised I have not heard more of them. Including the classic song, 'Reasons to be Cheerful'.
I am feeling rather cheerful right now, so here's the song's lyrics (with my own comments):
Why don't you get back into bed [repeated quite a few times...a tad depressing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly [True, also true but he's dead, for the word folly]
Good golly Miss Molly and boats [Ooooooh yes. And sure, why not.]
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet [Never heard of either.]
Jump back in the alley and nanny goats [Together? Sick. Plain sick.]
18-wheeler Scammels, Domenecker camels [Camels! Yes!]
All other mammals plus equal votes [Obviously.]
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willy [Heh. Fanny. Willy.]
Being rather silly, and porridge oats [Yup. These are wise men.]
A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it [More of both is needed.]
You're welcome, we can spare it - yellow socks [I have none. Maybe I should.]
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty [That's me.]
Going on 40 - no electric shocks [Aah, the middle-age insulatory effect.]
The juice of the carrot, the smile of the parrot [Damn parrot ate my carrot.]
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks [No claret; plenty of rocks.]
Elvis and Scotty, days when I ain't spotty, [Beam him up.]
Sitting on the potty - curing smallpox [An Elvis reference? Cheap joke.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Health service glasses [Yes! Mine were free.]
Gigolos and brasses [Now steady on there.]
Round or skinny bottoms [Ummm...sure.]
Take your mum to Paris [Not in the near future.]
Lighting up the chalice [Satanic rituals? Maybe not...]
Wee willy harris [Sounds like a great bloke.]
Bantu Stephen Biko, listening to Rico [No idea.]
Harpo, Groucho, Chico [Go Marx! Communist comedy.]
Cheddar cheese and pickle, the Vincent motorsickle [Desperate for a rhyme.]
Slap and tickle [Heh.]
Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale [In one glorious blend.]
balabalabala and Volare [Nonsense. Just silly.]
Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy [Bingo.]
Being in my nuddy [Every day.]
Saying hokey-dokey, singalonga Smokey [It works, it's true.]
Coming out of chokey [The sweet smell of freedom. That damn rat.]
John Coltrane's soprano, Adi Celentano
Bonar Colleano [No idea. Something about singing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Yes yes
dear dear
perhaps next year
or maybe even never
in which case
Reasons to be cheerful part 3 [And goes on...]
A great song. I urge you to download it immediately. Or ask me to send it to you.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
The Hunt for i
Look here, boy. I've seen and done more things than you can ever imagine. I've travelled past the wall of Quadratics into the wilderness of Polynomials, where I've seen higher degrees than you could ever count.
I've charted graphs with turning points the size of an elephant, and asymptotes to match.
I've wrestled with surds, battled over indices, and expanded more brackets than you could shake a stick at.
Yet for 20 years now, I have been gripped by the most elusive prey of all - i.
I first heard of this tricky beast in a bar in the Domain of the Real, chatting to a pretty little irrational, when silence fell, and a -1 walked through the doors. As we all stared at this outsider in our midst, a Pi near the door stood up and grabbed it roughly from behind.
"Sorry boy. Irrationals only in this part of town."
But -1 just winked, and then did something I thought impossible - rooted itself. The room was in chaos, and I was sprinting towards the site, but arrived too late. I looked at the window to see i disappearing round the corner.
After that, the chase was on. Hopping onto my faithful Axiom, I followed its tracks as fast as I could, but the trail was getting cold fast. It petered out eventually when I was in Trigonometry Town.
I asked a nearby Cosine if it had seen any imaginary numbers nearby, and it looked shifty and muttered something, walking quickly away. My hackles were raised and my guard was down. I had always thought there was something fishy about these periodic functions, and it seems I was justified - they were in cahoots with i.
Walking past some women catching a Tan in the midday sun, I spotted it! i jumped onto the back of a Sin(Pi/2) and was gone in a flash. I ran to the cliff where they were last, but could only see Exponential Territory - yet there was no apparent route to get there from Trigonometry Town. What was the link?!?
I heard a snuffling down by feet, and saw a baby Cosh, begging for scraps. I nudged it with my foot, to give me some space to think, and idly watched it walk away over the cliff, and vanished. I stood, dumbfounded, when I saw the path, infinite yet almost invisible - Maclaurin Series!
Differentiating f(0) with every step, I arrived in Exponential Territory, only to be disgusted with what I saw. Innocent integers were everywhere, scuttling underfoot of the omnipotent e. The numbers were clearly slaves to their irrational masters, who walked away with their indexes bare for all the world to see. I turned a corner, and stopped in amazement. There was one of my dearest friends, Pi, cavorting with both e and i, my enemies. They stopped when they saw me watching, and before I could blink, equalised into -1, which quickly differentiated and was gone.
I have never given up my search, but have had no luck. Nowhere in the Domain of the Real can I find this elusive number i, and much darkness has been uncovered by my searching. Yet I feel sure that the truth is out there, somewhere. Perhaps one day we shall leave this Number Line and advance into the Complex Space, to find a new world that we have scarcely dreamed of.
If there is such a number as i, and it has not been some imaginary dream, that is where it will be found.
I've charted graphs with turning points the size of an elephant, and asymptotes to match.
I've wrestled with surds, battled over indices, and expanded more brackets than you could shake a stick at.
Yet for 20 years now, I have been gripped by the most elusive prey of all - i.
I first heard of this tricky beast in a bar in the Domain of the Real, chatting to a pretty little irrational, when silence fell, and a -1 walked through the doors. As we all stared at this outsider in our midst, a Pi near the door stood up and grabbed it roughly from behind.
"Sorry boy. Irrationals only in this part of town."
But -1 just winked, and then did something I thought impossible - rooted itself. The room was in chaos, and I was sprinting towards the site, but arrived too late. I looked at the window to see i disappearing round the corner.
After that, the chase was on. Hopping onto my faithful Axiom, I followed its tracks as fast as I could, but the trail was getting cold fast. It petered out eventually when I was in Trigonometry Town.
I asked a nearby Cosine if it had seen any imaginary numbers nearby, and it looked shifty and muttered something, walking quickly away. My hackles were raised and my guard was down. I had always thought there was something fishy about these periodic functions, and it seems I was justified - they were in cahoots with i.
Walking past some women catching a Tan in the midday sun, I spotted it! i jumped onto the back of a Sin(Pi/2) and was gone in a flash. I ran to the cliff where they were last, but could only see Exponential Territory - yet there was no apparent route to get there from Trigonometry Town. What was the link?!?
I heard a snuffling down by feet, and saw a baby Cosh, begging for scraps. I nudged it with my foot, to give me some space to think, and idly watched it walk away over the cliff, and vanished. I stood, dumbfounded, when I saw the path, infinite yet almost invisible - Maclaurin Series!
Differentiating f(0) with every step, I arrived in Exponential Territory, only to be disgusted with what I saw. Innocent integers were everywhere, scuttling underfoot of the omnipotent e. The numbers were clearly slaves to their irrational masters, who walked away with their indexes bare for all the world to see. I turned a corner, and stopped in amazement. There was one of my dearest friends, Pi, cavorting with both e and i, my enemies. They stopped when they saw me watching, and before I could blink, equalised into -1, which quickly differentiated and was gone.
I have never given up my search, but have had no luck. Nowhere in the Domain of the Real can I find this elusive number i, and much darkness has been uncovered by my searching. Yet I feel sure that the truth is out there, somewhere. Perhaps one day we shall leave this Number Line and advance into the Complex Space, to find a new world that we have scarcely dreamed of.
If there is such a number as i, and it has not been some imaginary dream, that is where it will be found.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
A Very Important Matter
Good evening everyone.
I am writing to alert you all about a very serious danger - one that is a constant presence in our everyday life, yet a peril that has so far been overlooked by the government.
I speak, of course, of the evils of toast sweat.
Toast sweat was first pointed out to us 10 years ago by Father Frasier, in a classic episode, with a moral slant. In what was no doubt intended to be a criticism of modern values, Frasier's father Martin lectures Frasier on the repercussions of leaving toast upon the counter, only to have Frasier respond with scorn and derision, dismissing toast sweat as a serious threat.
How many of us have held that same attitude?
Yet the negative effects of toast sweat have run havoc through Frasier's life. Never being able to hold onto a serious relationship, occasional job insecurity, a neurotic brother, grouchy father, and a series of humourous misunderstandings and cases of mistaken identities - all, it could be said, avoidable had Frasier not paid more heed to his father's warning.
Let us take a lesson from this foolishness, and take a moment to examine the effect toast sweat has had upon our own lives. It begins with buttering toast on the counter, without a plate - yet how quickly it spreads. Soon, in our haste, we leave this residue on the counter, allowing bacteria to fester and multiply. The next counter user sees this, and wipes it up. Yet all too soon do they too dismiss it, and leave it be. With the sweat soon comes its cronies - unwashed plates, crumbs, and tomato pus.
Within a matter of weeks, the kitchen is a FESTERING MASS OF DISEASE. Sure, like Frasier's, it may look respectable, but the rot has set in underneath. And as the kitchen, heart of the household, begins to corrupt, so does it affect the rest of the house and all who live in it.
Homework is not done, tea not made, clothes not washed, carpets not vacuumed. This external chaos soon penetrates into the family's hearts, and our very souls and minds are in turmoil!
How many careers have been ruined, relationships broken, friendships drained, parent-child bonds cut forever due to this threat upon our sanity!
And yet, ironically, it is one so easily avoided.
So please, my friends (and this applies to us all!) when you see toast sweat lying upon the counter - whether it was made by you or not - wipe it up immediately. Do not become complacent, or think 'someone else' will do it - there is no-one else.
Only YOU can save mankind!
I am writing to alert you all about a very serious danger - one that is a constant presence in our everyday life, yet a peril that has so far been overlooked by the government.
I speak, of course, of the evils of toast sweat.
Toast sweat was first pointed out to us 10 years ago by Father Frasier, in a classic episode, with a moral slant. In what was no doubt intended to be a criticism of modern values, Frasier's father Martin lectures Frasier on the repercussions of leaving toast upon the counter, only to have Frasier respond with scorn and derision, dismissing toast sweat as a serious threat.
How many of us have held that same attitude?
Yet the negative effects of toast sweat have run havoc through Frasier's life. Never being able to hold onto a serious relationship, occasional job insecurity, a neurotic brother, grouchy father, and a series of humourous misunderstandings and cases of mistaken identities - all, it could be said, avoidable had Frasier not paid more heed to his father's warning.
Let us take a lesson from this foolishness, and take a moment to examine the effect toast sweat has had upon our own lives. It begins with buttering toast on the counter, without a plate - yet how quickly it spreads. Soon, in our haste, we leave this residue on the counter, allowing bacteria to fester and multiply. The next counter user sees this, and wipes it up. Yet all too soon do they too dismiss it, and leave it be. With the sweat soon comes its cronies - unwashed plates, crumbs, and tomato pus.
Within a matter of weeks, the kitchen is a FESTERING MASS OF DISEASE. Sure, like Frasier's, it may look respectable, but the rot has set in underneath. And as the kitchen, heart of the household, begins to corrupt, so does it affect the rest of the house and all who live in it.
Homework is not done, tea not made, clothes not washed, carpets not vacuumed. This external chaos soon penetrates into the family's hearts, and our very souls and minds are in turmoil!
How many careers have been ruined, relationships broken, friendships drained, parent-child bonds cut forever due to this threat upon our sanity!
And yet, ironically, it is one so easily avoided.
So please, my friends (and this applies to us all!) when you see toast sweat lying upon the counter - whether it was made by you or not - wipe it up immediately. Do not become complacent, or think 'someone else' will do it - there is no-one else.
Only YOU can save mankind!
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Back from the Lakes
Hello everyone!
Me and Julia have returned from the lake district, and a very enjoyable holiday. I'm sure she'll do a big blog with silly things like 'details' and 'photos', so I needn't bother with such trivialities here. Nay, I will write about the important things she misses out - the food.
On the train journey up on the Tuesday, we had lunch at Crewe station, in a break in between changes - bought from an overpriced sandwhich bar, of course. Served by a tattooed northern lady, who did not quite understand that when we asked for our baguettes 'toasted', we in fact meant 'we want it HOT!'. While we could have stated that directly, we'd have probably been arrested for sexual harrasment.
Anyhow. I had a cheddar cheese and bacon baguette, and Julia had a ham and mozzarella (the European version of mine, basically). Both were lovely, though Julia couldn't eat all of hers, so I finished it on the train.
That evening, we ate in a Chinese restaurant in Penrith - Platinum, I believe it was called. They had an all you can eat type offer, but without the buffet.
We ordered prawn toast, seaweed, ham rolls, pork triangles, and spring rolls for starters. Toast, triangles and seaweed were delicious, and the ham rolls (new!, it boasted on the menu) were crispy - Julia didn't like them, but I did. Julia liked the spring rolls, but I was put off by a weird...tentacle thing in mine.
We had sweet and sour pork and beef in green pepper and black bean sauce for a main meal, along with egg fried rice. I liked the pork! This is more significant that it sounds, as I have always hated sweet and sour, but now I like it. This doubles my choice in future chinese restaurants.
For a dessert, I had bannana fritters, covered in syrup and ice cream, and disturbingly phallic. They were heaven deep-fried, as usual, and Julia helped me finish them off. Then we wound down with some chinese tea, and read the tealeaves. Oh, and of course there were prawn crackers.
Our first hotel breakfast there Wednesday morning - we had a pot of tea to wake us up, and Julia had some crazy health fad - 'fruit juice', or something. I had some weetabix mush to warm me up, and then we had cooked breakfast. Bacon, beans, hash browns, sausage, scrambled eggs. Julia was more adventurous than I, having tomatoes and mushrooms as well, but we both steered clear of the black pudding.
For lunch we had afternoon tea in the hotel lounge. I had ham sandwiches, victoria sponge and toasted tea cake, which I managed to polish off even though I was stuffed. Julia had chicken ceaser salad in a wrap. I found the tea up there quite bitter compared to my normal tea.
For dinner, we ate at a little Italian place opposite the hotel - I forget the name. Quite crowded, but very friendly staff. From their accents, I deduced they were Australians who worked in Italy before moving to Cumbria. I had canneloni - very good, if a smaller portion than I'd have liked, and Julia had...chicken penne pasta, I think. Hers was lovely, and she claimed the portion was just right. We also had garlic bread on the side. Being the impetuous devil I am, I also ordered homemade bread with our meal, despite Julia's warnings. After a mild panic at the lack of oil (corrected by our Aus-Ital-British friend), we also ate that as well, so I was vindicated in the end.
For dessert, I had profiteroles - with white chocolate! Those crazy Cumbrians. I prefer it to regular, I think. Julia had lemon sorbet. No tea for us, we waited till we were back in the hotel.
Another breakfast, another weetabix, another sausage etc - though with a boiled egg this time.
We had lunch in Glenridding after the steamer ride, and we ate in Greystones cafe - where we went last year in the lake district with the others! I had a jacket potato with beans and cheese, as all jacket potatoes should be. Julia had a ham and cheese toastie - good, though not as good as mine apparently. We had tea with it, of course. We decided to treat ourselves to some cakes as well - I had lemon drizzle (nicer than it sounds) and Julia had chocolate cake, which is hard to get wrong, really. Oh, and I paid by card!
We had dinner in the hotel restaurant, and it was the best of the holiday. Julia had a vegetable soup for starters (nicer than it looked), and I satisfied myself with some bread. Julia had a venison steak in a fancy sauce, and I had a medium sirloin steak - being the fusspot I am, I asked for the sauce in a seperate container, just in case. It was all amazing though.
For dessert, Julia had profiteroles, and I had apple sponge and custard - very nice, though a little too much sponge and not enough apple. Then we settled down with some tea in the hotel lounge.
Our final hotel breakfast, same as Thursday's, though I was bit messier with my boiled egg. We had lunch in Keswick, in a coffee shop. I had teacakes and a (lovely) bannana milkshake, and Julia had a vegetable soup, on which she scalded her tongue quite badly. I resisted the temptation for an ice cream, and was rewarded by having no money to pay with, resulting in a panicked trip to the cash machine.
Finally, we bought some food at around 7 on the train back home. We snapped up the last sandwich, and I devoured most of it - not very nice, but I was too hungry to care. And with that, a twix and a cherry muffin, the food, and our holiday, was at an end.
Me and Julia have returned from the lake district, and a very enjoyable holiday. I'm sure she'll do a big blog with silly things like 'details' and 'photos', so I needn't bother with such trivialities here. Nay, I will write about the important things she misses out - the food.
On the train journey up on the Tuesday, we had lunch at Crewe station, in a break in between changes - bought from an overpriced sandwhich bar, of course. Served by a tattooed northern lady, who did not quite understand that when we asked for our baguettes 'toasted', we in fact meant 'we want it HOT!'. While we could have stated that directly, we'd have probably been arrested for sexual harrasment.
Anyhow. I had a cheddar cheese and bacon baguette, and Julia had a ham and mozzarella (the European version of mine, basically). Both were lovely, though Julia couldn't eat all of hers, so I finished it on the train.
That evening, we ate in a Chinese restaurant in Penrith - Platinum, I believe it was called. They had an all you can eat type offer, but without the buffet.
We ordered prawn toast, seaweed, ham rolls, pork triangles, and spring rolls for starters. Toast, triangles and seaweed were delicious, and the ham rolls (new!, it boasted on the menu) were crispy - Julia didn't like them, but I did. Julia liked the spring rolls, but I was put off by a weird...tentacle thing in mine.
We had sweet and sour pork and beef in green pepper and black bean sauce for a main meal, along with egg fried rice. I liked the pork! This is more significant that it sounds, as I have always hated sweet and sour, but now I like it. This doubles my choice in future chinese restaurants.
For a dessert, I had bannana fritters, covered in syrup and ice cream, and disturbingly phallic. They were heaven deep-fried, as usual, and Julia helped me finish them off. Then we wound down with some chinese tea, and read the tealeaves. Oh, and of course there were prawn crackers.
Our first hotel breakfast there Wednesday morning - we had a pot of tea to wake us up, and Julia had some crazy health fad - 'fruit juice', or something. I had some weetabix mush to warm me up, and then we had cooked breakfast. Bacon, beans, hash browns, sausage, scrambled eggs. Julia was more adventurous than I, having tomatoes and mushrooms as well, but we both steered clear of the black pudding.
For lunch we had afternoon tea in the hotel lounge. I had ham sandwiches, victoria sponge and toasted tea cake, which I managed to polish off even though I was stuffed. Julia had chicken ceaser salad in a wrap. I found the tea up there quite bitter compared to my normal tea.
For dinner, we ate at a little Italian place opposite the hotel - I forget the name. Quite crowded, but very friendly staff. From their accents, I deduced they were Australians who worked in Italy before moving to Cumbria. I had canneloni - very good, if a smaller portion than I'd have liked, and Julia had...chicken penne pasta, I think. Hers was lovely, and she claimed the portion was just right. We also had garlic bread on the side. Being the impetuous devil I am, I also ordered homemade bread with our meal, despite Julia's warnings. After a mild panic at the lack of oil (corrected by our Aus-Ital-British friend), we also ate that as well, so I was vindicated in the end.
For dessert, I had profiteroles - with white chocolate! Those crazy Cumbrians. I prefer it to regular, I think. Julia had lemon sorbet. No tea for us, we waited till we were back in the hotel.
Another breakfast, another weetabix, another sausage etc - though with a boiled egg this time.
We had lunch in Glenridding after the steamer ride, and we ate in Greystones cafe - where we went last year in the lake district with the others! I had a jacket potato with beans and cheese, as all jacket potatoes should be. Julia had a ham and cheese toastie - good, though not as good as mine apparently. We had tea with it, of course. We decided to treat ourselves to some cakes as well - I had lemon drizzle (nicer than it sounds) and Julia had chocolate cake, which is hard to get wrong, really. Oh, and I paid by card!
We had dinner in the hotel restaurant, and it was the best of the holiday. Julia had a vegetable soup for starters (nicer than it looked), and I satisfied myself with some bread. Julia had a venison steak in a fancy sauce, and I had a medium sirloin steak - being the fusspot I am, I asked for the sauce in a seperate container, just in case. It was all amazing though.
For dessert, Julia had profiteroles, and I had apple sponge and custard - very nice, though a little too much sponge and not enough apple. Then we settled down with some tea in the hotel lounge.
Our final hotel breakfast, same as Thursday's, though I was bit messier with my boiled egg. We had lunch in Keswick, in a coffee shop. I had teacakes and a (lovely) bannana milkshake, and Julia had a vegetable soup, on which she scalded her tongue quite badly. I resisted the temptation for an ice cream, and was rewarded by having no money to pay with, resulting in a panicked trip to the cash machine.
Finally, we bought some food at around 7 on the train back home. We snapped up the last sandwich, and I devoured most of it - not very nice, but I was too hungry to care. And with that, a twix and a cherry muffin, the food, and our holiday, was at an end.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Results!
18th August, 2005 - a day that will live in infamy!
All over the UK, hundreds of thousands of students tore open their brown envelopes - some eagerly, some with trepidation, and some just plain drunk - to find out whether their hopes were dashed or their egos inflated.
Eyes were filled with tears, mouths with laughter, streets with the blood of innocents (so I am told).
And during all this medley and mayhem, a young 17 year old by the name of Thomas Bloom, just out of potty training, fumbled with his own brown envelope to receive his results.
Unfortunately, at that moment, a freak gust of wind blew a brick through his school hall's window. Due to a stroke of bad luck, simultaneously, a seagull high on sardines and crack was flying towards the window. It snatched the envelope out of Thomas's hands and flew back towards its flock, croaking triumphantly.
Not one to be beaten by a feathered felon, Tom put on his propellor beanie hat and fired it up, rocketing up after the bird.
The bird panicked at this unexpected pursuit, and called for its flock to come and aid it in this life or death struggle. Hundreds of druggy seagulls divebomped towards the happless sixth former.
Bringing out his handy sardine with his customary flourish, Tom threw to his right, and laughed evilly as the seagulls dashed towards it, leaving the way between him and his enemy clear.
His battlecry still ringing through the clear summer sky, Tom grabbed the bird, and after a firm beak twist, released it and opened his results:
(The total of my ASs):
Religious Studies: 283/300 (A)
Mathematics: 300/300 (A)
Further Mathematics: 295/300 (A)
Economics: 275/300 (A)
History: 283/300 (A)
General Studies: 283/300 (A)
Hmm...awful lot of 283s now I look at it. Coincidence? I think not...
All over the UK, hundreds of thousands of students tore open their brown envelopes - some eagerly, some with trepidation, and some just plain drunk - to find out whether their hopes were dashed or their egos inflated.
Eyes were filled with tears, mouths with laughter, streets with the blood of innocents (so I am told).
And during all this medley and mayhem, a young 17 year old by the name of Thomas Bloom, just out of potty training, fumbled with his own brown envelope to receive his results.
Unfortunately, at that moment, a freak gust of wind blew a brick through his school hall's window. Due to a stroke of bad luck, simultaneously, a seagull high on sardines and crack was flying towards the window. It snatched the envelope out of Thomas's hands and flew back towards its flock, croaking triumphantly.
Not one to be beaten by a feathered felon, Tom put on his propellor beanie hat and fired it up, rocketing up after the bird.
The bird panicked at this unexpected pursuit, and called for its flock to come and aid it in this life or death struggle. Hundreds of druggy seagulls divebomped towards the happless sixth former.
Bringing out his handy sardine with his customary flourish, Tom threw to his right, and laughed evilly as the seagulls dashed towards it, leaving the way between him and his enemy clear.
His battlecry still ringing through the clear summer sky, Tom grabbed the bird, and after a firm beak twist, released it and opened his results:
(The total of my ASs):
Religious Studies: 283/300 (A)
Mathematics: 300/300 (A)
Further Mathematics: 295/300 (A)
Economics: 275/300 (A)
History: 283/300 (A)
General Studies: 283/300 (A)
Hmm...awful lot of 283s now I look at it. Coincidence? I think not...
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Under extreme duress
I kid you not.
Earlier this evening, I was having an MSN conversation with Julia, and she was nagging me to blog - naturally I biggled her off with my usual daring excuse skills:
Come away with me says:
Why don't you
Come away with me says:
?
Joth says:
I would, but...
Joth says:
I HAVE NO HANDS
Come away with me says:
Oh...OK...
And so this conversation passed into the distant memories of five minutes earlier. However, I then heard a knock on the door. Rising from my throne of skulls, wading through my ocean of blood, I opened the door. Behind it was...nothing. I closed the door, waded back, clambered back up the bones of the ancients, only to find a black cat sitting on my throne.
Angered by this intrusion into my inner sanctum, I rose to my full height, towering a full two feet over the sitting cat. Glaring down with my baleful eyes, I demanded a full explanation and apology for this trespass.
The cat licked itself, and waved its tail laconically.
Well, by now, my face was pretty crimson, I can tell you. I was just about to unleash an eternity of pain and torment, when I noticed the cat was now sitting upon my horned helmet.
To be precise, it had attached a furry ball to one of the horns, and was now batting it around with its paw.
Marvelling at this feline felon's stealth, the horrific truth dawned on me, like a horrific dawn:
IT WAS A NINJA CAT!!!!!
That's right - one of the infamous Ninja Cats of the Mm'baatou Mountains, trained under the Great Sensei Sweep, and who probably studied under the Deathmaster Zapp!
I quickly ran through a mental checklist of my enemies powerful enough to have one such of these as a servant. Buddha...not his style...Bono...wouldn't have chosen a -black- cat...that guy at Waterstones...no, killed him last week...Julia! Of course!
Evidently she had been greatly incensed, and had sent after me one of her prized henchpets to make sure I did my blogging.
So here I sit, hunched over the keyboard, lightly dusted in cat hair, while that dealer in death, that purveyor of pain, that seller of stealth, that tradesman in terror, that sh- OW!
OK, enough metaphors.
While that cat sits on my lap, purring softly.
I'm just thankful that my allergies haven't....ACHOO!
Earlier this evening, I was having an MSN conversation with Julia, and she was nagging me to blog - naturally I biggled her off with my usual daring excuse skills:
Come away with me says:
Why don't you
Come away with me says:
?
Joth says:
I would, but...
Joth says:
I HAVE NO HANDS
Come away with me says:
Oh...OK...
And so this conversation passed into the distant memories of five minutes earlier. However, I then heard a knock on the door. Rising from my throne of skulls, wading through my ocean of blood, I opened the door. Behind it was...nothing. I closed the door, waded back, clambered back up the bones of the ancients, only to find a black cat sitting on my throne.
Angered by this intrusion into my inner sanctum, I rose to my full height, towering a full two feet over the sitting cat. Glaring down with my baleful eyes, I demanded a full explanation and apology for this trespass.
The cat licked itself, and waved its tail laconically.
Well, by now, my face was pretty crimson, I can tell you. I was just about to unleash an eternity of pain and torment, when I noticed the cat was now sitting upon my horned helmet.
To be precise, it had attached a furry ball to one of the horns, and was now batting it around with its paw.
Marvelling at this feline felon's stealth, the horrific truth dawned on me, like a horrific dawn:
IT WAS A NINJA CAT!!!!!
That's right - one of the infamous Ninja Cats of the Mm'baatou Mountains, trained under the Great Sensei Sweep, and who probably studied under the Deathmaster Zapp!
I quickly ran through a mental checklist of my enemies powerful enough to have one such of these as a servant. Buddha...not his style...Bono...wouldn't have chosen a -black- cat...that guy at Waterstones...no, killed him last week...Julia! Of course!
Evidently she had been greatly incensed, and had sent after me one of her prized henchpets to make sure I did my blogging.
So here I sit, hunched over the keyboard, lightly dusted in cat hair, while that dealer in death, that purveyor of pain, that seller of stealth, that tradesman in terror, that sh- OW!
OK, enough metaphors.
While that cat sits on my lap, purring softly.
I'm just thankful that my allergies haven't....ACHOO!
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Huzzah
Well, it is Mother's Day. I have tidied the kitchen, done some ironing, and feel like a valauble member of society. My eye is aching only very slightly, I have some homework to do, but no essays, I am wearing my toasty slippers, and the house is quiet.
All that's bothering me now are some slight growing pains in my right leg, but let's not worry about those.
Last night it was my sister's party (she's almost 15). A terrifying bunch, those Year 10s - gargantuan. The boys, anyway. As for the girls...mmm, flesh. However, I heroically battled my way through gangs of horny teenagers to reach my beloved upstairs, where we watched Kill Bill 2. I tried to nap, but was distracted by screams and the like from the TV.
I was up at 8 o'clock this morning, feeling full of energy. I ate Weetabix, played Weboggle and did generally useful things, before prodding my sisters awake to make my mother breakfast in bed...at half 10.
I am currently reading the British System of Government, and I am finding it ashamedly interesting. Julia has, as a result, forbid me from becoming a politician, or any other job that begins with p.
Slippers are a wonderful thing, though impractical in going up and down stairs at high speeds.
In the future, when I have my own house (or with a spouse), I do not ask for much. All I ask for is:
- Good towels. White, rough ones, that take water off and the top layer of your skin as well. Not these namby-pamby cotton wrap things. I want to be dry and scoured!
- An organised kitchen. Not freakishly so, sensibly so. I want the tea making facilities to be kept together. Breakfast things to be kept together. I want my pans stacked, godamnit!
- Pets. I would like cats, but there seems to be an increasing risk of me being allergic to cats these days. So backups are, in no particular order - dog, tortoise, lizard, fish.
- A good bath. Curly taps, big enough for two people/one really fat person, and taps at theside .
- Comfy bed. Cotton sheets, thick (single) duvet, but evenly textured. Several pillows. A radio alarm.
- Quiet neighbours. Sometimes I would like lots of noise, but I want it to be on -my- terms.
- Carpets. None of this lacquered wood nonsense.
- Furniture. Proper furniture. No post-modern, minimalist faux leather monstrosities. Preferably old, and solid. Ikea is evil.
- Pictures. Paintings, photos, prints. My walls will be a vibrant gallery of people and places. My house will have -character-, damnit!
- Noticeboards. Full of paper. Reminders, notes, scribblings, doodles, admin stuff. Occasionally I will have a clearout.
- The Study.
The Study is important. I have, of late, been building it up in my mind. I want bookcases on every wall, and a big antique desk. I want a good computer, surrounded by mounds of papers. I want a deep pile carpet. And a comfy armchair. And a window with a nice view, but curtains. Wife, children or no, this will be -my- territory.
See, I don't want much. Just a room somewhere...far away from the cold night air...with one enormous chair...oh, wouldn't it be lovely.
In this flawed world, aiming for perfection is the only way things get done.
All that's bothering me now are some slight growing pains in my right leg, but let's not worry about those.
Last night it was my sister's party (she's almost 15). A terrifying bunch, those Year 10s - gargantuan. The boys, anyway. As for the girls...mmm, flesh. However, I heroically battled my way through gangs of horny teenagers to reach my beloved upstairs, where we watched Kill Bill 2. I tried to nap, but was distracted by screams and the like from the TV.
I was up at 8 o'clock this morning, feeling full of energy. I ate Weetabix, played Weboggle and did generally useful things, before prodding my sisters awake to make my mother breakfast in bed...at half 10.
I am currently reading the British System of Government, and I am finding it ashamedly interesting. Julia has, as a result, forbid me from becoming a politician, or any other job that begins with p.
Slippers are a wonderful thing, though impractical in going up and down stairs at high speeds.
In the future, when I have my own house (or with a spouse), I do not ask for much. All I ask for is:
- Good towels. White, rough ones, that take water off and the top layer of your skin as well. Not these namby-pamby cotton wrap things. I want to be dry and scoured!
- An organised kitchen. Not freakishly so, sensibly so. I want the tea making facilities to be kept together. Breakfast things to be kept together. I want my pans stacked, godamnit!
- Pets. I would like cats, but there seems to be an increasing risk of me being allergic to cats these days. So backups are, in no particular order - dog, tortoise, lizard, fish.
- A good bath. Curly taps, big enough for two people/one really fat person, and taps at the
- Comfy bed. Cotton sheets, thick (single) duvet, but evenly textured. Several pillows. A radio alarm.
- Quiet neighbours. Sometimes I would like lots of noise, but I want it to be on -my- terms.
- Carpets. None of this lacquered wood nonsense.
- Furniture. Proper furniture. No post-modern, minimalist faux leather monstrosities. Preferably old, and solid. Ikea is evil.
- Pictures. Paintings, photos, prints. My walls will be a vibrant gallery of people and places. My house will have -character-, damnit!
- Noticeboards. Full of paper. Reminders, notes, scribblings, doodles, admin stuff. Occasionally I will have a clearout.
- The Study.
The Study is important. I have, of late, been building it up in my mind. I want bookcases on every wall, and a big antique desk. I want a good computer, surrounded by mounds of papers. I want a deep pile carpet. And a comfy armchair. And a window with a nice view, but curtains. Wife, children or no, this will be -my- territory.
See, I don't want much. Just a room somewhere...far away from the cold night air...with one enormous chair...oh, wouldn't it be lovely.
In this flawed world, aiming for perfection is the only way things get done.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
A real blog, this time
In reponse to allegations that my last blog was like an english essay, I say:
OMG!!!111!1!1!1 Lokw, h0w d4r3 uu sy th47 1 m g00d @ 3ngl15h!11!!1!
Well, back to sanity. I'll make this one a proper blog, then.
Today is the last day of half term, and freedom. Two main things have happened : Valentine's Day (none of your business) and house-sitting!.
From 12:05 on Thursday till 4:18 on Saturday, Julia's house, grounds and animals were under my nefarious control. After they left, my day was pretty uneventful really. I taught myself how to play chess (using the ever-fruitful magic of www.everything2.com) and can now talk authoritively of gambits, castling and the halloween attack.
Also in my pursuit of intellectual hobbies, I have starting training myself in cryptic crosswords - I remain terrible, but hopefully I'll improve with practise.
I woke up at 8(ish) on the Friday, turned the boiler on (after several minutes waiting for the shower to warm up), had a shower, and fed Julia's pets.
I then generally mosied around, read Lord of the Rings for a bit, taught myself Japanese, etc, till around 11 when Andrena showed up.
She was returning from her Greek lesson, and decided to pop in, so I made some tea and we talked - mostly about universities. Then my Dad and sister came round, and we took Scamp for her walk round the park.
All was well, till disaster struck - while tugging on the recalcitrant Scamp, her collar slipped right off her neck! She scampered off happily, leaving me to chase after her to restrain her again - my father and sister sniggering away in the background. We bought sandwhiches, had lunch, then I walked back home with my sister to catch up on developments there.
On my arrival, I discovered my first two university prospectuses had arrived! One for Durham, and one for SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies). My mother had made me a rice pudding (removed from her work, she has become bored in the daytime so has resorted to baking on epic proportions. On Saturday, she made: a loaf of bread, muffins, biscuits, rolls, and a lasagne). After the rice pudding and a failed bannana smoothie, I waddled back to Julia's with the remains of the rice pudding in my bag.
Didn't do much for the rest of Friday...started a history essay, more crosswords and chess, and I watched the Eastenders 20th Anniversary Special! Fun fun fun. Oh, and the Simpsons.
Then I went to bed and read some more of Lord of the Rings.
Saturday...woke up around the same time, forgot about the boiler again...same old same old. I couldn't motivate myself to walk Scamp alone, so I rang Andrena (being the friend who lived closest to Julia's) and asked her for her company, to which she agreed. I made myself beans on toast, then it was off to the park, for yet more university talk.
Then I went to the market in town, to browse round the book stall and buy some roses for Julia for her homecoming. Back to Julia's, spell of flower arranging and vacuuming, and Julia's family were home.
I received £20 for my custodial work, which went straight into Julia's back pocket...now I only owe her £10!
OMG!!!111!1!1!1 Lokw, h0w d4r3 uu sy th47 1 m g00d @ 3ngl15h!11!!1!
Well, back to sanity. I'll make this one a proper blog, then.
Today is the last day of half term, and freedom. Two main things have happened : Valentine's Day (none of your business) and house-sitting!.
From 12:05 on Thursday till 4:18 on Saturday, Julia's house, grounds and animals were under my nefarious control. After they left, my day was pretty uneventful really. I taught myself how to play chess (using the ever-fruitful magic of www.everything2.com) and can now talk authoritively of gambits, castling and the halloween attack.
Also in my pursuit of intellectual hobbies, I have starting training myself in cryptic crosswords - I remain terrible, but hopefully I'll improve with practise.
I woke up at 8(ish) on the Friday, turned the boiler on (after several minutes waiting for the shower to warm up), had a shower, and fed Julia's pets.
I then generally mosied around, read Lord of the Rings for a bit, taught myself Japanese, etc, till around 11 when Andrena showed up.
She was returning from her Greek lesson, and decided to pop in, so I made some tea and we talked - mostly about universities. Then my Dad and sister came round, and we took Scamp for her walk round the park.
All was well, till disaster struck - while tugging on the recalcitrant Scamp, her collar slipped right off her neck! She scampered off happily, leaving me to chase after her to restrain her again - my father and sister sniggering away in the background. We bought sandwhiches, had lunch, then I walked back home with my sister to catch up on developments there.
On my arrival, I discovered my first two university prospectuses had arrived! One for Durham, and one for SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies). My mother had made me a rice pudding (removed from her work, she has become bored in the daytime so has resorted to baking on epic proportions. On Saturday, she made: a loaf of bread, muffins, biscuits, rolls, and a lasagne). After the rice pudding and a failed bannana smoothie, I waddled back to Julia's with the remains of the rice pudding in my bag.
Didn't do much for the rest of Friday...started a history essay, more crosswords and chess, and I watched the Eastenders 20th Anniversary Special! Fun fun fun. Oh, and the Simpsons.
Then I went to bed and read some more of Lord of the Rings.
Saturday...woke up around the same time, forgot about the boiler again...same old same old. I couldn't motivate myself to walk Scamp alone, so I rang Andrena (being the friend who lived closest to Julia's) and asked her for her company, to which she agreed. I made myself beans on toast, then it was off to the park, for yet more university talk.
Then I went to the market in town, to browse round the book stall and buy some roses for Julia for her homecoming. Back to Julia's, spell of flower arranging and vacuuming, and Julia's family were home.
I received £20 for my custodial work, which went straight into Julia's back pocket...now I only owe her £10!
Friday, February 18, 2005
First Lines
Instead of boring you with the trivial matters of my everyday life, today, I shall look at a very crucial aspect of literature: First Lines. Being the first thing one reads of a book, they can serve a valuable purpose in both setting the general tone of the book, and to draw the reader in. However, many first lines fulfill neither of these roles, yet go on to be absolutely amazing books. I'm not going to try and establish a link between first lines and the quality/type of book, as that is beyond my scope, but I will look at some examples.
[Note - I shall define first lines as the first sentence of the first chapter, ignoring prologues/introductions/etc]
We shall begin with JRR Tolkein's class, "The Lord of the Rings."
"When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton."
Here is an excellent example of one of the first line's functions - establishing background. Three names are mentioned, to give the reader a sense of knowledge and familiarity immediately, and also to establish a link with the trilogy's prequel, "The Hobbit."
From this first line, we can imply that Hobbiton is a close-knit and friendly community, without many troubles - an impression built upon in the next couple of chapters, to provide a stark contrast to the deepening darkness of the rest of the book.
Tolkein also establishes key facts of the world in which the book it is set - not our own, yet related to it. An unknown word ("eleventy-first") gives us a sense, however minor, of foreignness and curiosity.
Altogether, a rather unwieldy first line, yet one that fits in well with the theme and purpose of the next couple of chapters.
Next, Bernard Conwell's "Enemy of God":
"Today I have been thinking about the dead."
A stark contrast to Tolkein's line, this one serves an entirely different purpose. It gives us no information of the world in which this is set, but it is short and dramatic, establishing immediate intrigue and drama.
It is very striking, by the use of the first person, the immediate tense, and the use of the word 'dead'. Instantly we are set to thinking about who this character should be, which dead, and most importantly, why. However bad the rest of the book may be (I have no idea, I have never read it), the author is guaranteed for the reader to read on at least a couple more paragraphs before they gauge the quality of the book.
Next, Ian Rankin's "Let it Bleed":
"A winter night, screaming out of Edinburgh."
Again, a very different style. Rather than a character-based sentence, this one is purely abstract, with no mention of any personification. However, it does immediately let us know that it is set in the modern real world, that which we live in (at least, it does if you've heard of Edinburgh). It also creates immediate excitement, encouraging further reading.
This sentence is also quite cryptic - it makes little sense when read individually. We know that there is a winter night, and something screaming out of Edinburgh - but no hint as to what the 'something' may be, whether animal, vegetable or mineral.
Personally, I thought immediately of a car leaving Edinburgh at high speeds, but I don't know about the general impression.
More later. Comments encouraged.
[Note - I shall define first lines as the first sentence of the first chapter, ignoring prologues/introductions/etc]
We shall begin with JRR Tolkein's class, "The Lord of the Rings."
"When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton."
Here is an excellent example of one of the first line's functions - establishing background. Three names are mentioned, to give the reader a sense of knowledge and familiarity immediately, and also to establish a link with the trilogy's prequel, "The Hobbit."
From this first line, we can imply that Hobbiton is a close-knit and friendly community, without many troubles - an impression built upon in the next couple of chapters, to provide a stark contrast to the deepening darkness of the rest of the book.
Tolkein also establishes key facts of the world in which the book it is set - not our own, yet related to it. An unknown word ("eleventy-first") gives us a sense, however minor, of foreignness and curiosity.
Altogether, a rather unwieldy first line, yet one that fits in well with the theme and purpose of the next couple of chapters.
Next, Bernard Conwell's "Enemy of God":
"Today I have been thinking about the dead."
A stark contrast to Tolkein's line, this one serves an entirely different purpose. It gives us no information of the world in which this is set, but it is short and dramatic, establishing immediate intrigue and drama.
It is very striking, by the use of the first person, the immediate tense, and the use of the word 'dead'. Instantly we are set to thinking about who this character should be, which dead, and most importantly, why. However bad the rest of the book may be (I have no idea, I have never read it), the author is guaranteed for the reader to read on at least a couple more paragraphs before they gauge the quality of the book.
Next, Ian Rankin's "Let it Bleed":
"A winter night, screaming out of Edinburgh."
Again, a very different style. Rather than a character-based sentence, this one is purely abstract, with no mention of any personification. However, it does immediately let us know that it is set in the modern real world, that which we live in (at least, it does if you've heard of Edinburgh). It also creates immediate excitement, encouraging further reading.
This sentence is also quite cryptic - it makes little sense when read individually. We know that there is a winter night, and something screaming out of Edinburgh - but no hint as to what the 'something' may be, whether animal, vegetable or mineral.
Personally, I thought immediately of a car leaving Edinburgh at high speeds, but I don't know about the general impression.
More later. Comments encouraged.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
A Thorny Issue
My mother has returned, and last night we enjoyed a very nice takeaway chinese to celebrate. After staying up to watch World Shut Your Mouth and random TV, I staggered off to bed at about half 12. I woke up this morning at around 9, and rang Julia at 10 - assuming she'd be awake by then. Of course, she was still in bed.
Which leads me nicely to universities.
University is a thorny issue. Which university, which course? Should you go at all? We've started looking at universities at my school (earlier than most, I admit, which I approve of). Now then...
Which University?
A good one, obviously. However, it is difficult to decide which are good. Oxbridge of course - I'm applying to Oxford - but others need to be looked at for my other choices. A large part of my decisions will come do to where it is - I'm not keen on going to university in Manchester or London. It largely depends on the course, as well - I'd like to pick one good for my course, but not necessarily the best in case I'm not good enough to get in. Good ones for the Maths, I've heard, are Bath, York, Warwick. I'll have to wait till they start releasing their new prospectuses to decide in any way though.
Which Course?
Ask me a couple of months ago, I'd have said "Maths!". Ask me a month ago, I'd have said "Maths...or Maths and Philosophy!". Ask me now, and I say "Something with maths...probably."
Why the indecision? Well, I am good at maths, but am I good enough to do a three year degree course in it? Is it the one I'll enjoy the most? There are many other courses I'd be interested in - Oriental Studies, Economics, Ancient History, Theology...
It's still almost definitely maths though...but I'm keeping my options open.
Should I go to university at all?
Yes.
Of course, this is not to say that not going to university is a bad choice in general, just to me - I've always wanted to go to university, and to change my mind now would be betraying myself.
Which leads me nicely to universities.
University is a thorny issue. Which university, which course? Should you go at all? We've started looking at universities at my school (earlier than most, I admit, which I approve of). Now then...
Which University?
A good one, obviously. However, it is difficult to decide which are good. Oxbridge of course - I'm applying to Oxford - but others need to be looked at for my other choices. A large part of my decisions will come do to where it is - I'm not keen on going to university in Manchester or London. It largely depends on the course, as well - I'd like to pick one good for my course, but not necessarily the best in case I'm not good enough to get in. Good ones for the Maths, I've heard, are Bath, York, Warwick. I'll have to wait till they start releasing their new prospectuses to decide in any way though.
Which Course?
Ask me a couple of months ago, I'd have said "Maths!". Ask me a month ago, I'd have said "Maths...or Maths and Philosophy!". Ask me now, and I say "Something with maths...probably."
Why the indecision? Well, I am good at maths, but am I good enough to do a three year degree course in it? Is it the one I'll enjoy the most? There are many other courses I'd be interested in - Oriental Studies, Economics, Ancient History, Theology...
It's still almost definitely maths though...but I'm keeping my options open.
Should I go to university at all?
Yes.
Of course, this is not to say that not going to university is a bad choice in general, just to me - I've always wanted to go to university, and to change my mind now would be betraying myself.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Dawnshade
Hello everyone, me again. Well, it would be, since I'm the owner of this blog.
It has been....a long time, I'm sure, since my last blog, so I'll just try to fill you in on the major events of my life recently - for convenience's sake, starting from 1st January 2005.
Had my January modules almost immediately after returning to school. I felt suitably self-pitying and hard done by, as I had 5 exams, while others, such as Alex, had just one General Studies exam. For completeness' sake:
History Document Study :: Nazi Germany
Economics :: The Market System (or somesuch)
Maths :: Core 1
General Studies :: Culture, the Arts, and Pointless Long Words
Religious Studies :: Foundation to the study of Islam/Philosophy
I feel they all went pretty well, though I won't find out till the 10th March. RE especially I am most worried about, as I have no way of assessing how well I did until that little slip of paper comes back.
After my mere two week study leave, I was pitched back into the helter skelter of regular school life, and...not much happened that I can remember in that department. Only two things of any import have in fact happened since:
The Sixth Form Ball, Saturday 5th February. If you'd like detail on this, just refer to Julia's blog, and her worryingly comprehensive account. I feel it necessary to add, however, that I tied my own bow tie! Though it did occupy half an hour of my life learning how, I feel it was worth it.
Also, my mother. A couple of weeks ago, while attending business in Germany, she had an epileptic fit and collapsed, and has been in hospital over there. Fortunately, she is returning home some time tomorrow morning, and all is well again - I am saved from scraping together meals from corned beef and beans, and lugging clothes and school books between my Dad's and Julia's.
A couple of days (?) ago, I joined NationStates, and have found it a most intriguing past-time. Embracing my geek heritage, I have found my imagination alive recently with complex government heirarchies and social-economic policies for my fledgling nation, which require a proper piece of writing to do them justice - that shall have to wait till half term, when I am given respite from my backlog of essays for a short while. In case you're interested, I am the Sultanate of Fiol - telegrams welcome.
Aah yes, half term. That idylic time of daytime television and plans abandoned due to chronic laziness. Well, not this time! I have four (yes, four! Just count them! I know you won't!) essays to do over half term, so I really can't afford to put them off till the last day again. I have a good incentive to do work however, as I am....
House sitting!!!
Yes, that's right. For two nights and two days, Julia and her family are giving me Supreme Executive Power over her house and grounds. While they go 'up north' to visit 'relatives', someone is needed to care for their two cats and dog, and who better than the itinerant tradesman at their door. I hope that such solitude will motivate me to do some work and do some proper reading....hopefully.
Aah yes, reading. I intend to read Lord of the Rings, or at least try. On previous attempts, I have found the writing so dull and uninspired that it was futile to continue - which I consider a shame, as from what I have read in scholarly essays and heard from academic debates on the subject, I consider the world one of a rich and varied background, an apt analogy to our own chaotic times, and as one that shall both inspire and regulate future generations' forays into the fantasy jungle.....OK, I saw the film and thought it looked cool.
But I do want to read it.
Anyway, I am tired, and should have gone to bed 20 minutes ago, but I decided to blog (at nonnesuch's prodding).
Goodnight everyone.
It has been....a long time, I'm sure, since my last blog, so I'll just try to fill you in on the major events of my life recently - for convenience's sake, starting from 1st January 2005.
Had my January modules almost immediately after returning to school. I felt suitably self-pitying and hard done by, as I had 5 exams, while others, such as Alex, had just one General Studies exam. For completeness' sake:
History Document Study :: Nazi Germany
Economics :: The Market System (or somesuch)
Maths :: Core 1
General Studies :: Culture, the Arts, and Pointless Long Words
Religious Studies :: Foundation to the study of Islam/Philosophy
I feel they all went pretty well, though I won't find out till the 10th March. RE especially I am most worried about, as I have no way of assessing how well I did until that little slip of paper comes back.
After my mere two week study leave, I was pitched back into the helter skelter of regular school life, and...not much happened that I can remember in that department. Only two things of any import have in fact happened since:
The Sixth Form Ball, Saturday 5th February. If you'd like detail on this, just refer to Julia's blog, and her worryingly comprehensive account. I feel it necessary to add, however, that I tied my own bow tie! Though it did occupy half an hour of my life learning how, I feel it was worth it.
Also, my mother. A couple of weeks ago, while attending business in Germany, she had an epileptic fit and collapsed, and has been in hospital over there. Fortunately, she is returning home some time tomorrow morning, and all is well again - I am saved from scraping together meals from corned beef and beans, and lugging clothes and school books between my Dad's and Julia's.
A couple of days (?) ago, I joined NationStates, and have found it a most intriguing past-time. Embracing my geek heritage, I have found my imagination alive recently with complex government heirarchies and social-economic policies for my fledgling nation, which require a proper piece of writing to do them justice - that shall have to wait till half term, when I am given respite from my backlog of essays for a short while. In case you're interested, I am the Sultanate of Fiol - telegrams welcome.
Aah yes, half term. That idylic time of daytime television and plans abandoned due to chronic laziness. Well, not this time! I have four (yes, four! Just count them! I know you won't!) essays to do over half term, so I really can't afford to put them off till the last day again. I have a good incentive to do work however, as I am....
House sitting!!!
Yes, that's right. For two nights and two days, Julia and her family are giving me Supreme Executive Power over her house and grounds. While they go 'up north' to visit 'relatives', someone is needed to care for their two cats and dog, and who better than the itinerant tradesman at their door. I hope that such solitude will motivate me to do some work and do some proper reading....hopefully.
Aah yes, reading. I intend to read Lord of the Rings, or at least try. On previous attempts, I have found the writing so dull and uninspired that it was futile to continue - which I consider a shame, as from what I have read in scholarly essays and heard from academic debates on the subject, I consider the world one of a rich and varied background, an apt analogy to our own chaotic times, and as one that shall both inspire and regulate future generations' forays into the fantasy jungle.....OK, I saw the film and thought it looked cool.
But I do want to read it.
Anyway, I am tired, and should have gone to bed 20 minutes ago, but I decided to blog (at nonnesuch's prodding).
Goodnight everyone.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Several large goldfish and an electrical monobrow.
Hello everyone. I shall dispense with the usual apologise and such, and get right down to the nitty gritty, and dish the dirt you all want to know.
A starfish is not a toy.
While on holiday in Jamaica, my sisters made the acquaintance of an unpleasant American teen (I forget the name...probably something like Cliff). He had bleached blonde hair, wore a necklace - the 'surfer' type. After doing ridiculous somersaults on the floating trampoline, while I watched with scorn, he mentioned to my sisters that he had found a starfish, and would they like to see it. Naturally, they agreed.
So he led his little expedition of my mother and sisters out a bit into the water, while I followed discreetly, allowing only my eyes above the water. He found his hapless quinteped victim, and plucked him out of the water, crowing with triumph. My sisters oohed and aahed, but my horror grew the longer this pimply faced ruffian held the poor creature in the air. I could almost hear it calling in pain, as the water rapidly evaporated from it.
However, this theatre of horrors did not end there. He offered to leave it on the beach, so it would dry up and die, and they could have it as an ornament. I was stunned, but luckily my sisters refused, as it was 'not nice'. He then remembered he had seen some stingray over somewhere else, so dropped his captive back into the ocean and swam off with my sisters.
Realising the danger it was now in, I decided to relocate my spiny little friend to a place where it would not be disturbed. I picked it up and swam (holding it under the water all the while) to a place further out. I panicked when my foot touched something slimy which I could feel moving, so I dropped it there and fled.
I can only hope it survived, and continues to...do whatever starfish do, safe from marauding American teens.
More rants another time.
A starfish is not a toy.
While on holiday in Jamaica, my sisters made the acquaintance of an unpleasant American teen (I forget the name...probably something like Cliff). He had bleached blonde hair, wore a necklace - the 'surfer' type. After doing ridiculous somersaults on the floating trampoline, while I watched with scorn, he mentioned to my sisters that he had found a starfish, and would they like to see it. Naturally, they agreed.
So he led his little expedition of my mother and sisters out a bit into the water, while I followed discreetly, allowing only my eyes above the water. He found his hapless quinteped victim, and plucked him out of the water, crowing with triumph. My sisters oohed and aahed, but my horror grew the longer this pimply faced ruffian held the poor creature in the air. I could almost hear it calling in pain, as the water rapidly evaporated from it.
However, this theatre of horrors did not end there. He offered to leave it on the beach, so it would dry up and die, and they could have it as an ornament. I was stunned, but luckily my sisters refused, as it was 'not nice'. He then remembered he had seen some stingray over somewhere else, so dropped his captive back into the ocean and swam off with my sisters.
Realising the danger it was now in, I decided to relocate my spiny little friend to a place where it would not be disturbed. I picked it up and swam (holding it under the water all the while) to a place further out. I panicked when my foot touched something slimy which I could feel moving, so I dropped it there and fled.
I can only hope it survived, and continues to...do whatever starfish do, safe from marauding American teens.
More rants another time.
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