Monday 2 March 2009

And you think blogging is easy? Think again, and think blood, sweat and tears

It has been pointed out to me that non-bloggers who restrict themselves simply to reading what we dedicated bloggers produce are unaware of the sheer bloody effort that goes into producing a blog entry. You might think that it is simply a process of signing in, waffling for several minutes, posting, then signing out again. No, sir! Each entry is a matter of thought, planning, consideration, judgment, more thought, discussion with my team of blog advisors, more planning, revision, more discussion with my advisors, and only then comes the writing and publishing. For example, this entry has been several days in the gestation and production and below is a picture, taken by a friend, of me hard at work, producing today's entry. Take especial note of the muscles I have developed over the years of blogging and of which I am, I admit, immensely proud.

Thursday 26 February 2009

Scottish bar stool for Scots who wear a kilt

The Scots, it seems, who are an immensely practical and canny nation, have long been proud of their traditions. However, for many of those who habitually wore a kilt, sitting on a stool at the bar could often become a little uncomfortable, so one enterprising Scot came up with a bespoke stool for those who go drinking in their kilts. Here is a picture of one of the first to be produced:

Sexy accents — there's at least one for all of us. These are mine

Apropos nothing at all, I was walking out of the office yesterday and walked past one of the temps who is standing on for the specialists' secretary. She was talking on the phone and had a Northern Ireland accent. And that gives me the opportunity, dear readers, to inform you just how sexy I find the Northern Ireland accent. It does things for me. I could listen to a woman with a Northern Ireland accent all day long. And if we were in bed together, I would encourage her to talk, talk, talk. Another, equally as potent accent, is the Lancashire accent. She, too, would be implored by me to talk, talk, talk.
Now I must go and lie down.

Sunday 22 February 2009

Going to the dogs — one down-and-out's view

I took my daughter and her friend to Plymouth last Friday. She wanted to buy Babyliss curling tongs, look at clothes and get presents for her mother's birthday. I made sure they had a mobile phone, then let them loose shop and roam on their own. They are 12 going on 13, and who wants to hang around with Dad? They don't. Left to my own devices, I, too, roamed a little, and once I had spotted the first shop which was closing down and had taken a photo (on my mobile phone, would you believe) I immediately noticed 10, 20 more and got the idea for this. I first uploaded it to YouTube, but I couldn't use the song, Steely Dan's version of East St Louis Toodle-oo by Duke Ellington because it is under copyright. So the YouTube version has Debussy as its soundtrack — you can find it here — http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrcGl0OoWZo — but I think this works far better with the Steely Dan track. That version is here:

Saturday 21 February 2009

Elsie takes to the kitchen ...

Today my daughter Elsie is planning to cook my wife's birthday meal, and what she lacks in experience, she certainly makes up for in enthusiasm. Getting the necessary ingredients for the meal has so far taken two shopping trips and just now a third up to the village to get some strong white flour.
On the menu are Potato and Leek Soup with homemade rolls, Pasta with Tomato and Basil, and for pudding Fresh Fruit Salad with Cream or something called Sticky Mud Pie.
Elsie is preparing it all with her best friend Ruth and Ruth came shopping with us yesterday on our second trip. The financial damage so far — and quite how I have yet to discover — is about £40. At first Elsie and Ruth planned to offer two soups and two main courses — Tomato Soup and Roast Chicken were also to be on the menu — but I persuaded her that less is often more and she might be taking on too much.
Here is a short video of the two shopping.