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Posts Tagged ‘personal’

CSS Art Again

I do intend to get an actual proper post up some time in the next couple o' days, I promise! For now, though, here's another bit of CSS tomfoolery art for you, Gentle Reader. Once again, no graphics-files were used in the making of this post.

And I'll bung some paper-related songs below the fold- -as it were- -for the music-lovers. 'cause I'm nice like that!
- -Daz

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Lights

[No graphics-files have been used in the making of this post.]

I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling poorly—as I have been the last couple o' days—my first choice is to curl up with a book. If the gawdimdyingitis is a variety which buggers up my attention span though, my next port of call is mucking about with silly stuff on the computer, just to see what happens. Which is how the subject of this post came about.

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Well, it's been a funny few days, Gentle Reader. Twas my birthday on Monday, which means—because of the way adults aren't supposed to count the months, like what kids do—that I aged a year overnight. Yep, I went from forty-six to forty-seven in the time it took me mum's mantelpiece clock to chime in the hour of midnight. I'd like to propose that we stop counting these peskily accurate "years" and count decades instead. Which means I'm still four! Wanna bikkit!

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A Bit Of Archeological News

I'm tempted to add "piped water" to my previous post, given that our supply has disappeared. Apparently it's due to a clean-up-and-replacement programme being carried out by Wessex Water. Given that we were given no notice that the supply would be interrupted, I'm guessing that there's been some sort of cock up. It's also left us with about half a kettle-full of water, and no idea when the mains supply will be back on. Ho hum.

Anyway, my reason for telling you this is that, while I was trying to find some additional information online (there is none), I came across this little snippet of news from a couple of weeks back.

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Only Connect!

In these English farms, if anywhere, one might see life steadily and see it whole, group in one vision its transitoriness and its eternal youth, connect – connect without bitterness until all men are brothers.
E. M. Forster

I recall, some time back, having a discussion somewhere or other about online petitions. Someone was saying that they don't sign them because "they don't do any good."

I don't understand that reasoning.

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Archbishop Justin Welby knocking on the door of Canterbury Cathedral with his staff

I was going to write yet another rant about homophobic clergy who claim to represent my interests, but, Gentle Reader, it's been an 'orrible day and I really can't be bothered. So instead, here's the first five songs which came to mind on viewing the above picture. Well, some lines from The Raven came first, but I've done that gag elsewhere.
Daz

[Source of the picture: The Freethinker]


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Grocery Shopping

"Not far to walk" seems twice as far
When shopping-laden, heading home.
These bags are purpose-made, I'm sure,
For cutting fingers to the bone.
A downpour might refresh the day;
This drizzle, though, is drear and grey.
But home's in sight—the trudge, near over.
Home! to coffee, book and sofa.

Daz


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Liverpool Lullaby

Summat about the rhythm of my previous post reminded me of this, in a vague kind of way. I read that a tad faster than the song below, but… Oh I dunno; it just did. Anyways, here's Lullaby For A Mucky Kid (Liverpool Lullaby).
Daz


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Folk In A Slow Tempo

Seeing as the last few music posts have been a little, erm, raucus, here's some nice mellow folk tunes.

Three were chosen because I remember them from a compilation LP my parents owned when I were but knee-high to a nibbet, and the fourth is a Pogues number that fit the same mood.
Daz


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If you should find, in the fullness of time,
Your decisions were faulty or ill-thought-out,
Or if time goes by and your choices prove sound
Don't farm out the blame, or throw credit in doubt.

The blame is not Nick's, nor the credit due, God's.
Yours alone were the thoughts which led to the deeds.
Yours was the choice, bad, middlin' or good
And yours was the rein which guided the steed.

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