w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Labels: kittens

Labels: kittens

Today's lyric:
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"More than all this I do not know
Only that love is here to show someone a world - to be themselves.
A place to fall when all else fails.
And friends' harsh words cut deep and sore,but believe me mine will hurt me more
In those moments before I sleep
When I am truly alone to see."

Paul Weller : "I should have been there to inspire you"
From the album: "Heavy Soul"

Just in case this is my last blogging before the onslaught of the festivities, please have a great time, whatever you do and wherever you are and with whoever you spend it.

I had thought of doing a quick review of my year - really just for the sake of posterity rather than haven't I been just wonderful, dahlings...

On the plus side, we had a wonderful holiday with Mrs and Mrs 'Ol Sparky in Corfu. Memorable diving.

Number One Daughter found herself a lovely flat - sharing with a fellow trainee clinical psychologist - and although it's not permanent, is very settled.

Number One Son returned from Kernowland - to the delight of his mother (and me too, if I'm honest - it's great to have some male company about the place and he's very funny, especially when pi55ed) and we may hold onto him for a few more months before wanderlust steals him away again.

We salvaged three of the kittens from Lola's litter and they're all doing well (though break-even is way out of whack now - with innoculations at 44 quid per kitten)

On the down side, after 60 years of smoking, f.i.l. discovered he had lung cancer. He's had the full range of treatment and gets the final results on the 27th of this month. That may cast a shadow (no irony intended) on the year-end proceedings, but we all stay optimistic.

Mrs.D. finally succumbed to pressure and changed her job. It's like living with another woman.

Oh, that's a plus result, btw.

So weighing the scales, pretty much all's good here and hope it's the same for you.

Thanks for calling by during the year and have a great weekend, y'all.

x

Today's lyric:
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"Deputy Sheriff said to me, 'Tell me what you come here for, boy?
You better get your bags and flee - you're in trouble boy,
And now you're heading into more.
It's the same old story, everywhere I go,
I get slandered, libeled,
I hear words I never heard in the Bible
And I'm on step ahead of the shoe shine
Two steps away from the county line
Just trying to keep my customers satisfied,
Satisfied."

Simon and Garfunkel: "Keep the customer satisfied"
From the album: "Bridge over troubled water"

Just need to be a little bit quiet, now...

Today's lyric:
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"White face, black shirt, white socks, black shoes
Black hair, white strat, bled white, died black."

Ian Dury and The Blockheads: "Sweet Gene Vincent"
From the album: "New boots and panties"

We have our Xmas 'do' tonight.

It's a '20's gangsters and molls theme, so I've purchaste a white tie to go with a black shirt and also managed to hunt down a (toy) sub-machine gun.

I may well leave it behind though, as a random rucksack inspection in the early hours on a mainline station could prove embarrassing...?

Today's lyric:
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"You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face - how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fcuk her?"

Alanis Morissette: "You oughtta know"
From the album: "Jagged Little Pill"

You need to read yesterday's post for this one to make any sense

So I wasn't disappointed. Well, I was, but I wasn't. Not even a kiss-my-ar5e goodbye.

Number One Son got home first among us, hoping (against hope) that there would be a box of chocs for Mrs.D, or some flowers, or even a dyslexically-scrawled note to say "thanks for giving me a roof and bed for 6+ weeks."

But no. NOS was, as they say, incandescent with rage. And, his moral compass being very like mine, guilty about having brought the spongeing sack of sh1te into our home in the first place.

He was somewhat calmed by Mrs. D, entreating him not to beat himself up about it. But then he 'phoned the w@nk3r and, in apparently very constrained tones, 'let him have both barrels'.

The useless cnut's duvet and (unwashed) cover are now in a bin liner in the garage, where they will fester until either they're collected (they'll be left outside for pickup - the lazy fcuker is not stepping inside my home ever again) or warmer weather makes the area too unsavoury and they go for landfill.

As a 'chef' we never once had a meal cooked for us, or a bottle of red left to repay what he'd drunk of ours (given, not taken, admittedly) or, evidently, a free thankyou.

And any belief the to55er had that he'd be re-locating with NOS and his mates when they decamp to their own place, have been very clearly destroyed. When you pi55 in someone's face, don't expect them to say thankyou.

Serves the spineless b@st@rd right.

Season of goodwill? He can go fcuk himself.

Grrrr..

Today's lyric:
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"I don't care how much money I got to spend
I won't find my way home again
Oh the lonely days are gone - I'll be right home
My baby, she wrote me a letter."

Joe Cocker: "The Letter"
From the album: "Mad dogs and Englishmen"

The Waste Of Oxygen that has been our 'guest' these last several weeks is finally going home today.

There will be rejoicing.

When Number One Son returned from Kernowland, he asked if a mate could stay a while until he got a job and flat. As a chef, there'd be no problem getting work?

Having spent one "exhausting" day distributing his cv, he sat back (literally) and waited for the job offers to flood in.

Well, sunshine, it don't happen like that round this neck of the woods.

Suffish to say that even when he finally landed something - as a hospital worker, which is about as far removed from cheffing as I'd guess it's likely to get? - the expected flat failed to drop in his lap, so he decided to book a one way ticket back home.

If he doesn't return within 12 months to collect the ski- and mountain-boards, I'm keeping the selling price in lieu of rent.

Admittedly he hasn't cost us very much. We said at the outset, he'd have to fend for himself food-wise (though lord knows what he's lived on - even veggies have to eat something).

And hot water and soap haven't been major players in his day-to-day existence either.

But when NOS invited him to the pub for his last night here, he declined, preferring to play on-line p0ker in the kitchen. And when NOS joined him for a game later, he didn't even say cheerio and thanks for putting him up. So he's fcuked it for anyone else who needs a room at the inn.

Now a bottle of red and a note would be a nice surprise when I get home tonight, but I get this feeling I may just have to pop out to the offie, or I may die of thirst...

Today's lyric:
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"The morning is dead and the day is too
There's nothing left here to greet me but the velevet moon
All my loneliness I have felt today
It's a little more than enough to make a man throw himself away
I continue to burn the midnight lamp alone."

The Jimi Hendrix Experience: "Burning of the midnight lamp"
From the album: "Electric Ladyland"

As the day was born, layers of purple and rose were pasted into the eastern sky, evanescing as the light grew in strength.

A moment when I wanted to be atop a high vantage point, with my camera.

I lack the skills to paint such a moment (some say I lack the skills to do anything?) but it would be wonderful to capture the fleeting majesty of a winter's dawn.

Maybe I should have been on the deck of a charter boat, hauling in baitfish for a day's wrecking?

What state the oggin, Buddy? Too lumpy for comfort still?

But it looks like another day of desk-jockeying...

Enjoy your weekends, y'all

Today's lyric:
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"And from the shelter of my mind, through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets to England, where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused, my thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep and kiss you when you start your day."

Simon & Garfunkel: "Kathy's Song"
From the album: "Sounds of silence"

one of those days when I have no inspiration about what to blog about?

I always enjoy posting up a lyric (usually, the last one on the iPod before I unplug the earphones as I arrive at the office) so Blogger gets some exercise most days, but just occasionally, I'm bereft of inspiration.

Except someone's just mentioned it's nearly Friday, and thoughts turn to what's becoming a pre-weekend ritual of a bacon bloomer with brann sauce.

Mmmm....

Today's lyric:
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"And when the roses are half-bud soft flowers
And lovely as the king of flies has come
It was a fleeting visit, all too brief
In three short minutes, he had been and gone

He rested there upon an apple leaf
A gorgeous opal crown sat on his head
Although the garden is a lovely place
Was it worthy of so fine a guest?"

Fleetwood Mac: "Dragon Fly"
From the album: "The very best of (Peter Green's) Fleetwood Mac"

I had to seriously refrain from putting up Queen's lyrics to accompany today's post, but thought NiC might appreciate this one instead?

As a trainee sport* diver, you're taught a certain amount about physics, chemistry and biology. Enough to make you understand the physiological effects of being under water and keep you out of trouble while there.

In the late 19th century, the father and son team of JS and JBS Haldane did a lot of research into the effects of pressure on the human body, primarily to help understand the illnesses suffered by submariners and divers during the early days of those occupations.

The table that they produced - which (still) works today - allows you to calculate the safe time to stay underwater and at what depth. Perhaps even more importantly - for those of us of the "let's do that again" mentality, it lets you calculate when you can next sink yourself beneath the surface. Inevitably, wrist-mounted computers now use algorithms to follow your every vertical movement at depth and tell you when to Get back up here!, but a fundamental understanding of the principles may save your life in the event of computer failure.

According to the entertainingly-researched book by Bill Bryson (over there, on the right) the Haldanes experimented on each other - often to the point of achieving unconsciousness - but also roped in friends and family:

"Sent on a simulated descent, his wife once had a fit that lasted thirteen minutes. When at last she stopped bouncing across the floor, she was helped to her feet and sent home to cook dinner."

What a guy!

* Being also of the nerdy persuasion, I differentiate between someone who dives for the fun of it and commercial - so-called 'deep sea' divers - for whom it's a living.

It's the same for anglers - who fish with rod and line, and fishermen, who go trawling. The result's the same, but one gets paid for it.

And yes, I know it's unseasonably warm, but thought you might like some snowflakery?

Labels: scuba

Today's lyric:
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"And the kitchen's always tidy, the bathroom's always clean
She's a diploma in "just hiding things"
You've a first in low esteem.

When your socks smell of angels, but your life smells of Brie
Don't marry her, fcuk me."

The Beautiful South: "Don't marry her"
From the album: "Blue is the colour"

Someone once told me that when his wife was singing along to the album track of that song above, she'd use the 'single' lyric of "marry" instead of "fcuk".

I always reverse those middle two letters in posts, to avoid the inevitable hits (but have never had any visitors looking for the Gallic Joint company?)

I know someone who routinely - and quite understandably - substitutes letters to avoid people trawling for e.g. bu1ld3ers.

And pr0n (with a zero instead of an 'Oh') seems a universal avoidance in Blogland?

Strange how conventions develop..

Today's lyric:
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"And deep beneath the ground, the early morning sounds
And I go down.
Sleepy time when I lie, with my love by my side
And she's breathing low."

Pink Floyd: "Pillow of winds"
From the album: "Meddle"

of banked money to presents purchased. But a successful foray into the shopping world of mouthbreathers nonetheless...

And two new boots on the Cooper. Now I know it's only in the mind, but it does feel like it's handling better again, with a bit of decent tread in the rubber?

The chiminea fell over in last week's hooligan winds, fulcrumed on a rock and cracked the funnel completely off.

Anyone need a weighty bit of scrap metal?

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Labels: kittens

Today's lyric:
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"I know why you make me so scared
You're all I can see
You speak and my hearing is impaired
You're all over me

Laid in your bed
You held my head for a while
Said goodnight and flew away."

Graham Coxon: "All over me"
From the album: "Happiness in magazines"

To have and to hold an animal that feels so secure in its world that it falls asleep on you, is a lovely feeling.

But that's enough about Mrs. D.

Kittipix have been a bit scarce of late, but as my working days start and end in the dark, the only chance I get to take some snaps in natural light is at the weekend. (I don't like to zap them with flash photography.)

Not that there's been much sunshine lately, though.

Gollum* has joined his siblings in scaling the retaining bars of the kitten pen, so we've left them all to roam free on the carpeted Serengeti equivalent that is the lounge floor. They seem happy.

And although we request that all handlers wash their hands before (and after) picking them up (to prevent cross-infection) they are getting so much attention that, when they eventually leave us for their new homes, they will be the most humanised kittens (even for a breed famously human-oriented) evah!

So enjoy your weekends, y'all and keep your peepers peeled for feline-based 'paintings with light'.

* so named because of the way he moves around (he has Flat chested kitten syndrome) although with every day, he's getting much, much stronger and may even attain sellable status? Which we'll be very happy about - not from the monetary aspect, but because it'll mean a wrong'un turned right.

Labels: kittens

Today's lyric:
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"Ivory madonna, dying in the dust,
Waiting for the manna coming from the West.
Barren is her bosom, empty as her eyes,
Death a certain harvest, scattered from the skies.

Skin and bones is creeping, doesn't know he's dead.
Ancient eyes are peeping, from his infant head.
Politicians argue, sharpening their knives
Drawing up their bargains, trading baby lives."

UB40: "Food for though"
From the album: "The very best of UB40"

Yay! And, er, Woot! We're goin' fishin!

And with Number One Son (for the very first time, boat-angling together).

Now we just have to pick the right day, gale/hurricane/tempest-wise.

"When the wind's in the West, the fish bite best.
When the wind's in the East, the fish bite least."

Or some bollox.

Let's just get out there?

Today's lyric:
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"People said we couldn't play
They called us foul-mothed yobs
But the only notes that really count
Are the ones that come in wads

They all drowned when the air turned blue
'Cos we didn't give a toss
Filthy lucre ain't nothing new
But we all get cash from the chaos

The time is right to do it now."

Sex Pistols: "The Great Rock 'n Roll Swindle"
From the album: "The Great Rock 'n Roll Swindle"

It's taking me so damn long to read my current book because, for the past three days, I've had to stand all the way in on the commute.

Now I know it's possible to read vertically, but two stops in and it's already cattle-truck-crush time, and by the time we leave the penultimate stop, I'm recycling the breath of the four commuters on my compass points.

Which, sometimes - just sometimes - is not all that pleasant...

Today's lyric:

"Even though I leave will I go on believing that this time is real?
Am I lost in this feeling?
Like a child passing through, never knowing the reason - I am home.
I know the way."

Enya: "Evening falls"
From the album: "Watermark"

Commitments seem to be running away with any spare time I'd like to relish?

Time was, when this part of the year was relatively quiet, business-wise, but we seem to be winding up instead of down.

Maybe it's the work equivalent of global warming...

Today's lyric:

"You're only twenty nine - gotta lotta learn
But when your mummy dies, she will not return!

We like noise - it's our choice - it's what we wanna do
We don't care about long hair - I don't wear flares

See my face - not a trace - no reality.
I don't work, I just speed - that's all I need."

Sex Pistols: "Seventeen"
From the album: "Never mind the bollocks"

Have just stuffed my (now) traditional Friday bacon* bloomer with 'brann' sauce.

Suffish to say, enjoy your weekends, y'all.. burp.

* Yes, I know, I know...