Mario Mushroom Mat

I got an email from G today, he has been doing more creative things with hama beads and had made this....

Isn't he gorgeous? and the mat isn't bad either.

All along the watchtower

On Saturday night we went to the Knob, It was dry and chilly and the kind of weather I love. We enjoyed Spirit of the Experience, met some new people for a natter and Wally made me a spicy orange drink that tasted wonderful.

Sneer

Wally

Ale

Shoulder

Dead Belgian

Last night we saw Dead Belgian at The Trades Club in Hebden Bridge, and very Gallic and wonderful it was too. My compagnons consumed rather a lot of something called ghost ale and I would agree that it's effects were quite errrm...spiritual.

Here is compagnon Jon sleeping it off in stripes...awww

Sunshine on our street

Had the window open and everything today...I feel the tide is turning towards spring at last

Breakfast in bed

Covered in Bees

Ooooof

ache (k) intr.v. ached, ach·ing, aches 1. To suffer a dull, sustained pain. 2. To feel sympathy or compassion. 3. To yearn painfully: refugees who ached for their homeland. n. 1. A dull, steady pain. See Synonyms at pain. 2. A longing or desire; a yen. 3. A painful sorrow. [Middle English aken, from Old English acan.]

Just maybe

Unleashed....

I have finally uploaded our official wedding photographs to Facebook where they can be viewed in full by anyone.

Album one can be found here and album two here

All images courtesy of John Burrows who is not only a very professional and talented photographer, but a very beautiful soul.

Everybody Knows

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded

Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed

Everybody knows that the war is over

Everybody knows the good guys lost

Everybody knows the fight was fixed

The poor stay poor, the rich get rich

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking

Everybody knows that the captain lied

Everybody got this broken feeling

Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets

Everybody wants a box of chocolates

And a long stem rose

Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby

Everybody knows that you really do

Everybody knows that you've been faithful

Ah give or take a night or two

Everybody knows you've been discreet

But there were so many people you just had to meet

Without your clothes

And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it's now or never

Everybody knows that it's me or you

And everybody knows that you live forever

Ah when you've done a line or two

Everybody knows the deal is rotten

Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton

For your ribbons and bows

And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming

Everybody knows that it's moving fast

Everybody knows that the naked man and woman

Are just a shining artifact of the past

Everybody knows the scene is dead

But there's gonna be a meter on your bed

That will disclose

What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you're in trouble

Everybody knows what you've been through

From the bloody cross on top of Calvary

To the beach of Malibu

Everybody knows it's coming apart

Take one last look at this Sacred Heart

Before it blows

And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows

That's how it goes

Everybody knows

Everybody knows

The good shit

The level of pain yesterday could only mean one thing and when I saw a Doctor this morning my suspicions were confirmed and I not only have tonsillitis, but it's all gone a bit septic and horrible, which is why I'm running a temperature, why my throat and neck are all swollen and lumpy and why I'm struggling to sleep and swallow. Such a bugger especially as the latter are two of my favourite things.

So now I have a packetful of penicillin and am wondering why I even put myself through the bother of trying to fight this on my own as I have obviously made things worse and prolonged the agony. All those diktats about not using antibiotics at the drop of a hat because they lose their effectiveness and people being big softies who now just immediately run to the Doctor crying for prescriptions when they don't need them have obviously stuck with me somewhere along the line.

I think the next time my evil tonsil man comes around, I'm just going to trust my instincts and my own past history, which is to say, If I get it, I get it bad, so go get the good shit.

Google-doodle

This morning as I browse around clutching my coffee and hope it soothes my painful throat I noticed that the Google illustration today was Ernest Shackleton's birthday. I like the occasional illustrations they use *enormously* and so decided to include a handful of recent ones that I found logged here in this wonderful compendium page

Anyway, here are some others I particularly like....

This is for Thomas Edison's birthday on February 11th

and I especially adored the Jules Verne 183rd birthday illustration on February 8th, It's a combination of aquatica and steampunk, both styles I love.love.love.

I also love the word clouds of the 50th anniversary of JFK's inaugural on January 20th, though the man himself does look a little bit...odd.

and the ruby red of coming of age day (Japan) on January 10th

Under the weather

I feel awful :(

I am feeling distinctly sorry for myself as my poor throat has truly begun to feel like it has been seized by an alien being and is no longer quite part of me. The whole area feels strangely swollen and thick and swallowing has become a bit of a pig, but not in the sharp manner of tonsillitis (so far at least) but more like mumps, or at least my memory of mumps.

To my Valentine

More than a catbird hates a cat,

Or a criminal hates a clue,

Or the Axis hates the United States,

That's how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,

And more than a grapefruit squirts,

I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,

And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,

Or a juggler hates a shove,

As a hostess detests unexpected guests,

That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,

And more than the subway jerks,

I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,

And more than a hangnail irks.

I swear to you by the stars above,

And below, if such there be,

As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,

That's how you're loved by me.

Ogden Nash.

Down with the sickness....

ILL

A touch of Frost

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Friday on my mind

So, I suddenly realised that I hadn't actually written anything very much here for a week or two and had instead been posting links and music and pictures with very little text, so after two mugs of lavazza, and in no particular order i'm thinking about the things that have happened this week.

There were two pieces of lovely news from friends - one of a new life to come in August and another of recovery.

There was strange kismet with someone I admire enormously about The Saw Doctors, which made me smile about how much the world links up.

Someone else was struggling with work and feeling homesick and trapped and unable to express themselves and I could feel their frustration all those miles away but all I could say was everything will be OK, because it will, right?

There was 'Never let me go' - which I had never heard of until this week when I saw the film being publicised, but recognised the author Kazuo Ishiguro from Remains of the Day. Is it wrong that I immediately wanted to read rather than see it?

So saying, I have requested it from our local library. Because yes, I do use our local library, avidly, and no, of course I don't want to see our libraries being closed.

There was stripeycat nausea and great tiredness with a creeping sniffle.

a hard-working Voodoo with a zombywoof behind the eyes and a cough that wouldn't quit

and continuing avian mutation with Scrib, who, by his own admission, is probably dying.

But it wasn't all bad, there were kisses too.

and although I don't buy into the hallmark cliché of it all, what with Valentines day round the corner, that seems like a good place to leave it.

Hockney

Bigger Trees near Warter

~Painted in oil on 50 separate canvasses and then pieced together, Bigger Trees Near Warter measures 15ft by 40ft and takes up the entire wall of a room at York’s Art Gallery. He painted it from life over six weeks, out in the cold of the East Yorkshire spring, on separate canvases, using a computer so he did not lose sight of the overall picture. It was pretty cold at times, he admits. “But the people in the house (in the picture) kept bringing me out cups of tea.” East Yorkshire continues to inspire him. Which is less than he can say for the UK’s anti-smoking policy. What do you think of York?, a hapless tourism bureau representative asked him. “I don’t come into York very often for the single reason that there is nowhere I can sit down and have a cigarette,” he said.~ (The Press, York News)

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