Friday, May 28, 2004
Mine. All mine.
We’re certainly not rich, by any means. By today’s standards, we’re not even ‘comfortably off’. But we’re doing Okay.
And tomorrow, for the first time in our lives, we’re taking delivery of a brand new car.
It’s insured in my name – the first time I’ve
ever insured a car.
And we’re damn excited!
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:54 AM
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Thursday, May 27, 2004
Rearache
No, I haven’t got the Judith’s * - though I admit, I can be a pain in the ar5e sometimes.
Things have been a tad busy lately – hence the erratic postings – and yesterday lunchtime I found myself on another train, heading East to another meeting. In an empty carriage.
Then she got on, and sat opposite me. In an empty carriage. And I said nothing.
A minute later, behind me and to my left, a mad/drunken male Irish voice started to part-harangue, part-sing to, part-swear at her. And I said nothing.
Apart from shooting him one withering glance, which even I understood to say “Just shut the fcuk up!” she then promptly ignored him, to the point where she curled up on two seats and fell asleep. And I said nothing.
He continued his vociferous vocal into my left ear (hence, rearache) through station after station. And I said nothing.
I considered getting off and joining another carriage, but then it dawned on me, she’d chosen me as a tacit ‘protector’ and had deliberately chosen the opposite seat. So I sat still and said nothing.
Then, blissfully, the voice behind me stopped and the woman jumped up off the seat and proceeded to chase him down the platform?
And the other passengers looked up, breathed a collective sigh, and said nothing.
* Judith’s = Judith Chalmers = Farmers = Farmer Giles = Piles
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:47 AM
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Thursday, May 20, 2004
WD40, anyone?
I love the way Ferry sibilantly joins ‘as’ to ‘invitation’ …
Anyway, when you are of a ‘certain age’, you do not appreciate reminders about the increasing likelihood of evidence of physical frailty, or reduction of function.
So when, for insurance purposes, you ‘phone the garage to find out the registration number of your new Mini Cooper * you do not want to be told the final letters are KYJ.
Because you know that your peers are going to find endless mirth in reminding you.
* Mrs.D.'s choice of replacement for my ex-Company car (and her own self-confessed mid-life crisis {;-)
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:40 AM
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Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Half booted
With the warm weather continuing, the phalanx of commuters now consists of shirt-sleeved and fully-suited commuters, while the women, free of the conventions, regulations and restrictions about wearing coloured ropes around their necks all day, continue to look as cool as
uborkas.
Steamy novels and films are all very well (allegedly ;-) but steamy offices are definitely to be avoided.
# posted by Mr.D. @ 9:01 AM
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Friday, May 14, 2004
Bloodsport Revisited
* While doing a lap of The MotorCycleGarage today, I spotted why the D'Oves were in camouflage - there was a ruddy great V'ulture parked on the roof.
So I dropped The Bandit, kick-started The Broomstick, and with nary a thought for my humane principles, knocked the buzzard** from his perch.
* really posted by Aprosexic Blue Warlock
** could be read as bu99er?
# posted by Mr.D. @ 12:24 PM
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Royalty
Mrs.D. lost her aunt on Wednesday, to the culmination of a combination of serious illnesses and what used to be called ‘old age’. Her Mum’s sister.
Number one Son and Number one Daughter, unprompted and separately ‘phoned their Gran to express condolences. NoS will represent his generation at the committal and NoD has been kindly barred from attending, as she’s on the brink of her finals and the Uni will not countenance absenteeism for any but the most extreme of reasons.
Auntie would, of course, have understood perfectly. She was a good old bird.
_________________________
She came towards me, arms outstretched and a mixture of emotions on her face.
A combination of concentration, nervousness, even excitement.
I smiled.
Then she walked on past me, the camera in her hands recording the mass of other commuters rapidly closing the gap with her.
I swear if I get filmed one more time crossing London Bridge, I’m gonna demand royalties!
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:39 AM
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Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Executived
Clearly, as a race, we haven’t advanced much since the Japanese were decapitating POWs with the WW2 equivalent of a light sabre.
I’ve often averred that, if someone was properly convicted of a heinous crime against a fellow human, I’d cheerfully throw the switch, pull the lever, inject the fatal dose, whatever.
But for a knot of religious zealots to form an impromptu executive, take a randomly-kidnapped man and use him as a fair representative of all that’s evil about the West and publicly behead him, is taking things too far? Even if all of the allegations and pictures about abuse of Iraqis
are true?
Does the mind die instantly the moment that the head is severed? I read that the brain does not feel pain – strange that the organ which tells us that something is hurting cannot, itself, feel that same sensation. I just hope the guy died quickly.
And in other news. A new type of inflatable doll is being produced in the Middle East, especially for asthmatics. It blows itself up.
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:41 AM
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Tuesday, May 11, 2004
The End Is Like, So Nigh
There's always a camera crew on London Bridge. Perhaps there's a photography course nearby, and the best way of getting the students out of the classroom is to instruct them to find a different way of filming the milling mass of haunted suits?
Aaaanyway, today a lugubrious, Victor Meldrew-like old fellow was being filmed wearing a sandwich board bearing the above legend. Maybe it'll precede the last episode of "Friends"?
You heard it here first.
I need help. (Yes, yes, they've been saying it for years).
Today's lyric comes from the only song by Robbie Williams I've ever liked. Probably because of Dury's unparalleled song-writing. In the instrumental bit though, Williams half-sings something sotto voce and although I've almost deafened myself by boosting the sound, I can't quite make it out? I'd guess it's his way of saying cheerio to a fellow artiste, or perhaps saying thanks for collaborating with him in their work for UniCef?
Anyone got the extra lyrics?
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:28 AM
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Monday, May 10, 2004
First Post on New Blogger
Not a lyric I agree with, but I like the song, for all that, because really it's just a long look forward to the next weekend.
I'm a firm believer that you can, to a greater degree than you think possible, shape your own destiny. You are what you eat, and you can be what you think.
I've lost several friends and acquaintances to premature deaths along the way and albeit sub-consciously try to enjoy every day to the limit, even if it's just another humdrum one.
Went to a close colleague's wedding at the weekend - it's always interesting to listen to vows being made, wondering if they'll pan out as expected/hoped for. Mrs. D. was 17 when she made hers and probably 95% of the audience gave us a less than 30% chance of survival. Its been the most tremendous fun proving them wrong.
* Puts on a happy face * as the song has it.
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:58 AM
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Friday, May 07, 2004
Class
I couldn’t trace Today’s Lyric in
this version of the song? I heard it first some 40 years ago, being a folksy ballad about infatuation necessarily spurned because of the gentleman’s standing engagement. When he hears of the threat of suicide, he makes a momentous decision to change his destiny and marry the new girl.
Is it such an extreme method of “getting your man”? Maybe that’s how the Mounties always succeed. They send a letter to the perpetrator, saying “If you don’t give yourself up at the police station, we’re all gonna top ourselves” (in a Canadian accent, obviously).
Also 40 years ago, my Dad traced our lineage to
this man, through nine generations. I’d quite forgotten about the pedigree which I now possess, until someone mentioned they were tracing their family tree but, because they’re not computer-literate, hadn’t even considered the interwebnet thingy as a possible time-saver. Needless to say, they’ve now got some useful URLs and some written instructions.
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:42 AM
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Thursday, May 06, 2004
Stroke
A timing command given to rowers
A sensual caress
A blow – as in “with one fell stroke..”
And …
My (current) boss is, imho, a minor deity. I relieved him of his job nearly fifteen years ago, releasing him to move elsewhere in our little world, and thus began his apotheosis.
I’d like to think that since then, we’ve enjoyed trading off of each others’ abilities and qualities, which do seem to mesh well.
Yesterday, I spotted something which had been wrong for a couple of years. With a few deft strokes of his pen – and against all the unwritten rules about research, analysis, launch plans etc. etc. - he edited it in true ‘back of a fag packet’ style and said “Mr.D., make it so”.
In a world of strict regulations, spontaneity is sometimes something to be admired.
And in other news … a blonde in black silk trousers on the train this morning had the
cutest bum (well, DOMs need loving too!)
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:47 AM
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Tuesday, May 04, 2004
What did you do in the Bank Holiday, Daddy?
Installed 6 lights in the bathroom (it was like Blackpool Illuminations when we pulled the cord for the first time - must get lower-wattage bulbs) and 3 florrie tubes in the loft mowed the lawns cut the hedges stripped wallpaper off of No. One Daughter's bedroom cooked a barbie (not the doll) printed off some reports for Mrs.D. drank too much red wine (not really, you can never drink too much red wine) and started reading a new book.
Phew.
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:51 AM
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Drinking and Driving (but clearly not simultaneously)
