dear reader,
i have upped sticks and moved over to WordPress.
if you wish to read my random ramblings in future, i'm sure your GP can prescribe something...
if, however, that fails to work, you're very welcome over at dazedeye.
hope to see you there soon.
*hugs*
Squeaky
XXX
Saturday 26 February 2011
Monday 21 February 2011
R.I.P. Alan
Alan the chicken is no more. we will miss her sweet, trilling voice (not all chickens squawk), and her gentle, friendly and curious manner. i am dreadfully sorry i could not find the courage to break her neck last night, because it meant she suffered more.
amazingly, she was still with us--just--this morning. which was the most distressing thing. i sobbed all the way to work, because i knew there was a lovely, sweet-natured girl lying slowly dying in our front room, and i couldn't be there to do what little i could to ease her passing.
to all those who offered sympathy and love and hugs in my sadness, my heartfelt thanks.
i'm going to miss you, Alan. you were a lovely chicken.
XXX
.
Sunday 20 February 2011
helpless in the face of a dying chicken
one of our chickens, Alan, is dying.
why i feel the need to blog aout this, i don't know, but there you go. *shrug* i won't be posting this on Twitter, and am kinda hoping my followers ignore it, but i still feel the need to record it somewhere. i feel... i don't actually know how i feel. there's no grief, there, but there is a sadness. Alan was always such a lovely girl, and she was always my favourite. not that there was much interaction - i don't relate too deeply with non-mammals, and the girls get a little cross if you handle them too much, anyway. but i'm fond of her, y'know? she has a sweet voice, and she's always been the most placid of the two. you'd be amazed at the difference in presonality you can get between chickens. and now she's slipping away. she's in a cardboard box next to the kitchen radiator...
(here she started flapping madly, so i rushed in to see what was the matter, but i think it's that she can feel herself going and is fighting against it. Eric, the chicken we got at the same time as Alan, did much the same thing just before she died of--we think--a prolase)
she seemed fine yesterday - eating and moving around as normal with Ruby, our other chicken. but today, when hubby went out to give them their food, she was just sort of lying there on the patio. she couldn't stand up nor eat and drink. i suspect that she may have had a stroke, or something like it, as she sort of lolls to one side, as does her comb and her tail. but i don't really know. and we couldn't get an appointment with the vet's poultry expert till tomorrow at 7pm. i suspect it will be too late by then. i doubt she'll survive until bedtime, quite honestly.
earlier on, she was sitting in the box droopily, and i tried to get some sustenence into her (a thin, liquidised porridge of oats, corn and honey). she perked up a little after this - looked a little more alert. for a time. but now, she's pretty much unresponsive, and drooling a little, her eyes are closed, and she can't hold her head up. breathing's shallow, and there's nothing i can do. i could neck her, i suppose, but though i know the technique in theory (firm hold of neck and legs, pull sharply), i'm somewhat wary of putting it into practice. she's not in any obvious distress (apart from the occasional mad flappings, that is), and i wouldn't want to get it wrong - for both our sakes. i really hope she slips away quietly, and i hope she does so soon.
i'm sorry, Alan.
.
why i feel the need to blog aout this, i don't know, but there you go. *shrug* i won't be posting this on Twitter, and am kinda hoping my followers ignore it, but i still feel the need to record it somewhere. i feel... i don't actually know how i feel. there's no grief, there, but there is a sadness. Alan was always such a lovely girl, and she was always my favourite. not that there was much interaction - i don't relate too deeply with non-mammals, and the girls get a little cross if you handle them too much, anyway. but i'm fond of her, y'know? she has a sweet voice, and she's always been the most placid of the two. you'd be amazed at the difference in presonality you can get between chickens. and now she's slipping away. she's in a cardboard box next to the kitchen radiator...
(here she started flapping madly, so i rushed in to see what was the matter, but i think it's that she can feel herself going and is fighting against it. Eric, the chicken we got at the same time as Alan, did much the same thing just before she died of--we think--a prolase)
she seemed fine yesterday - eating and moving around as normal with Ruby, our other chicken. but today, when hubby went out to give them their food, she was just sort of lying there on the patio. she couldn't stand up nor eat and drink. i suspect that she may have had a stroke, or something like it, as she sort of lolls to one side, as does her comb and her tail. but i don't really know. and we couldn't get an appointment with the vet's poultry expert till tomorrow at 7pm. i suspect it will be too late by then. i doubt she'll survive until bedtime, quite honestly.
earlier on, she was sitting in the box droopily, and i tried to get some sustenence into her (a thin, liquidised porridge of oats, corn and honey). she perked up a little after this - looked a little more alert. for a time. but now, she's pretty much unresponsive, and drooling a little, her eyes are closed, and she can't hold her head up. breathing's shallow, and there's nothing i can do. i could neck her, i suppose, but though i know the technique in theory (firm hold of neck and legs, pull sharply), i'm somewhat wary of putting it into practice. she's not in any obvious distress (apart from the occasional mad flappings, that is), and i wouldn't want to get it wrong - for both our sakes. i really hope she slips away quietly, and i hope she does so soon.
i'm sorry, Alan.
.
Wednesday 16 February 2011
Monday 14 February 2011
Fred and Ginger have *nothing* to worry about (except maybe getting knocked over...)
well, it's Valentines Day.
not being Catholic, nor a pawns of the greetings card industry, we don't "do" VD. what we did do, however, was go to a Valentines dance. yep, that's right - last night was our first proper dance, six weeks or so after beginning to learn how to do it properly. well... depending on the occasion, of course. i've been shaking my booty on dancefloors for many a year but, as you know, we've been learning the more formal version. specificaly the quickstep and the waltz, so far. foxtrot lessons start tomorrow. :)
N.B. hubby's a little apprehensive about this, but i'm looking forward to it. just the name of it makes me smile, imagining woodland creatures galloping up and down kicking leaf litter about...
aaanyway, our ballroom class instructors run a lesson and dance on sunday nights at the Rolls Royce Pavillion in Derby, and we decided to amble on along, to see what it was like. last night was themed along the lines of VD, of course, but i got the impression that it wasn't much different from what normally goes on.
this is the sight that greeted us as we walked in. a little early, rather than to everyone canoodling under the tables, as someone on Twitter suggested (i'm looking at you, @twiteryeanot). as we sat there looking around, hubby and i had the same thought. my mum and dad and, indeed, my much-missed nana and grandad, would perhaps have had the same view, once upon a time. about half of my immediate family, being almost solely from Derby, were employed by Rolls Royce at one time or another. mum and dad met there, when mum was 15 and dad was 19.
as it turns out, they wouldn't have had quite this view, since the building we were in had been built long after they had both left for pastures new (or South Africa as it's more usually known - they emigrated for three years not long after they were married, but that's another story)
nontheless, the sense of family and history was quite tangible, and sort of comforthing.
the evening started with a slight departure from the norm. usually, there'll be, as i mentioned, a regular lesson for an hour, and then the dancefloor is opened up for dancing and practicing. in honour of VD, however, last night's lesson was in how to smooch decorously. it was interesting, and entertaining. i had no idea there was so much involved in dancing on the spot... *grin*
following the lesson, we retired to the sidelines to watch as those braver / more experienced souls present began to strut their stuff. and i disappeared to the ladies' to ensure i was still gorgeous....
not being Catholic, nor a pawns of the greetings card industry, we don't "do" VD. what we did do, however, was go to a Valentines dance. yep, that's right - last night was our first proper dance, six weeks or so after beginning to learn how to do it properly. well... depending on the occasion, of course. i've been shaking my booty on dancefloors for many a year but, as you know, we've been learning the more formal version. specificaly the quickstep and the waltz, so far. foxtrot lessons start tomorrow. :)
N.B. hubby's a little apprehensive about this, but i'm looking forward to it. just the name of it makes me smile, imagining woodland creatures galloping up and down kicking leaf litter about...
aaanyway, our ballroom class instructors run a lesson and dance on sunday nights at the Rolls Royce Pavillion in Derby, and we decided to amble on along, to see what it was like. last night was themed along the lines of VD, of course, but i got the impression that it wasn't much different from what normally goes on.
this is the sight that greeted us as we walked in. a little early, rather than to everyone canoodling under the tables, as someone on Twitter suggested (i'm looking at you, @twiteryeanot). as we sat there looking around, hubby and i had the same thought. my mum and dad and, indeed, my much-missed nana and grandad, would perhaps have had the same view, once upon a time. about half of my immediate family, being almost solely from Derby, were employed by Rolls Royce at one time or another. mum and dad met there, when mum was 15 and dad was 19.
as it turns out, they wouldn't have had quite this view, since the building we were in had been built long after they had both left for pastures new (or South Africa as it's more usually known - they emigrated for three years not long after they were married, but that's another story)
nontheless, the sense of family and history was quite tangible, and sort of comforthing.
the evening started with a slight departure from the norm. usually, there'll be, as i mentioned, a regular lesson for an hour, and then the dancefloor is opened up for dancing and practicing. in honour of VD, however, last night's lesson was in how to smooch decorously. it was interesting, and entertaining. i had no idea there was so much involved in dancing on the spot... *grin*
hubby had a haircut especially for the occasion. it's shorter than i've ever seen it, but it suits him rather well, i think. and it will be more of a shaggy mop by the time we go to france. that's his plan, anyway...
following the lesson, we retired to the sidelines to watch as those braver / more experienced souls present began to strut their stuff. and i disappeared to the ladies' to ensure i was still gorgeous....
...yep... ;)
so we sat around for a while, marvelling at the skill of some of those present. seriously - i wish i'd taken video of one particular couple (i didn't as it seemed impolite, somehow). they were astonishing! every single dance, no matter what it was, they kicked. its. ass. and my gods, were they having a good time doing it!
eventually, however, i persuaded hubby that since we were here, it might be nice to have a dance. i was raring to go, but he was a little reluctant. understandable, really. having done it for most of my life, i'm somewhat better at making a fool of myself.
it was a waltz.
it was a disaster.
we were both a little flustered, and either one or the other would add an extra step, or forget one (i freely admit it was mostly my fault, BTW). not long after i tripped over the stage (!), the instructor (who was playing DJ for the night), jumped in, and danced a figure or two with me, reminding me to stamp my feet to keep time.
it didn't work too well, i have to say. fortunately, the song ended not long after, and we beat a hasty retreat.
i made another trip to the loo, and got lost in the warren of corridors and little rooms in the building. i happened upon a teenyweeny little dancefloor in a deserted side room, and quickly went and grabbed hubby for a private practice to restore our confidence.
it worked.
the second dance we stood up for, a quickstep, went much, much better. we still cocked it up, of course, but this time, we didn't really mind, and there was a fair bit of laughter. this evening, hubby remarked that it's much easier to dance in public when it's more structured, since everyone who's ever learned to dance like this is aware that one has to learn, and one will make mistakes (or "variations", as our instructor calls them...) when one's dancing freestyle, as in a club, etc, it's much easier to look a tit, because everyone knows that everything comes from you and you alone - there is no outside structure imposed - and any mistakes or idiocies are entirely one's own.
it was lovely.
i was at a dance, and my man was whisking me around the dance floor, and i was happy and in love. :)
the rest of the evening passed in relaxed good humour, and i am so very, very proud of both of us.
i can't wait to go again! :)
.
Friday 11 February 2011
dammit, playwrights are stalking me!
anyone who follows me on Twitter may have occasionally seen me mention BBC Radio 2. we love R2. it's eclectic and entertaining, and the music it plays (especially Mon - Wed 8 - 10 PM on the Radcliffe and Maconie programme) is frequently surprising and rather wonderful.. well... most of the time, anyway. we won't talk about its Sunday programes. or Steve Wright. why that man is allowed to continue pedling his sycophantic, irritating crap i don't know.
but i digress.
on friday nights, they have an arts programme, presented by the charming Claudia Winkelman. it's interesting and easy on the ear. but the past two fridays, something weird has being going on. they have a slot on the programme during which she reviews a current play with, generally, one of the actors involved. last week, the plot sounded somewhat familiar...
just have a quick look to the right, and tell me if anything sounds familiar, would you...?
this week, the play had an unfamiliar plot, but was called "The Breath Of Life". the same name as my 2009 NaNoWriMo novel (still awaiting some TLC) the plot was nothing to do with pueblo clowns in the jungle, but still....
twice in a row...? really...?
seriously - playwrights are stalking me.
....
in other news:
does anyone else get a dreadful urge to pee when they're blogging? no?
just me, then...?
'scuse me...
.
but i digress.
on friday nights, they have an arts programme, presented by the charming Claudia Winkelman. it's interesting and easy on the ear. but the past two fridays, something weird has being going on. they have a slot on the programme during which she reviews a current play with, generally, one of the actors involved. last week, the plot sounded somewhat familiar...
young man goes to big old house, catalogues books, odd things and mysteries happen.
just have a quick look to the right, and tell me if anything sounds familiar, would you...?
this week, the play had an unfamiliar plot, but was called "The Breath Of Life". the same name as my 2009 NaNoWriMo novel (still awaiting some TLC) the plot was nothing to do with pueblo clowns in the jungle, but still....
twice in a row...? really...?
seriously - playwrights are stalking me.
....
in other news:
does anyone else get a dreadful urge to pee when they're blogging? no?
just me, then...?
'scuse me...
.
Sunday 6 February 2011
your personal shopper...?
well... january was an interesting blogging experience. i'm glad i did the challenge, even if i cocked it up, cheated outrageously, and only managed 25 posts out of the 30 that should have been posted. but i think i did ok....
there have been various brainfarts over the last few days that i thought, "oooh... i really ought to blog about that..." and then didn't. nothing earth-shattering. i mean, i didn't invent time-travel and then blow my nose on the formula, or anything, but just...yano...stuff. and then, of course, i forgot it all. well, apart from how much Debenhams sucks. for me, at least. i mean... ok, here's the thing:
debenhams, as any Britisher will tell you, is a big shop with branches pretty much fucking everywhere. it's a ubiquitous department store. christmas 2009, i was shopping in there for a pair of slippers for my dear ol' dad (who, incidentally, is seventy this year. EEEK! O_O ). that, for a start, should tell you something about the sort of place it is. but i digress. they have lots of brand names in there, and designers designing exclusive ranges of...er...stuff for them. mostly clothes/soft furnishings. and usually with a price to match. aaaanyway. i was on the phone to my mum whilst i was looking for these slippers - quizzing her about size, colour and style - when i came across a set of Jasper Conran jammies. now, i adore jammies. i don't wear 'em in bed - i just like to loll around the house in them and fluffy socks and my beloved purple dressing gown. particularly after i've just had a shower. these jammies were--inevitably--purple...
...incidentally, please note the clever use of the em-dash there - just for Ciara....
...and i spent a minute or so squeeing over them to my mum. i mean - i really, really liked them. i could not, however, justify spending twenty five quid on a pair of jammies when i already have several. so the JCpj's went unmolested.
fast forward past the christmas shopping to the day itself. what should i get in my christmas box from my aunty? yep - you guessed it. happy Squeaky. :)
sadly, however, they didn't fit. lovely aunty said not to worry, as she and mum were heading out on a sale spree just after christmas, and she would exchagne them for a bigger size. but they didn't have any. so they exchanged them for a gift card instead.
i tried to spend it. i really, really did. i looked for footwear, outerwear, dresses, costume jewellery, nightwear, nail polish, kitchen utensils, a hot water bottle. they had nothing for me. nuh-thing.
after a year of trying, i finally managed to spend it on friday. on a set of bathroom scales and a small (purple) leatherbound notebook. gosh - the excitement....
FFS! is it me? am i soooo hard to please?
or is it that debenhams caters to ..... well, look - i'm starting to get a picture of a typical debenham's shopper, and i'm sorry if you love the place, and the following description offends you, but this is just the image that pops into my head with increasing frequency following my frustrating experience. she's in her late fifties/early sixties. she wears uncomfortable-looking gold coloured shoes, and too much make-up. her hair sports a bad (yet expensive) dye job, and she wears a lot of navy. she carries a hideous, oversized handbag that features gold chains threaded with black ribbon, or diamante, or gold quilted fabric, or a combination of all of the above. and she has a fairly commodious wallet. i'm sure she's a very nice lady, but she really, really isn't me. i have to admit to a feeling of relief that i won't have to go in there again any time soon.
ahem. apologies. that shop has been annoying me for quite some time, now.... :-/
in other news... went climbing today. took stepson number two (the one that hasn't made me a grandma), and it was fun. he's never been before. he seemed to really enjoy it. he's expressed a wish to go back, anyway. have to say - he seemed like a natural when we sent him on to the bouldering wall. the only real trouble he had was with his stamina. he's already pretty strong, and he's always liked climbing stuff. and he has that typical Hibberd stubborn streak that makes him not want to give up on stuff when most would think "OK - maybe i can't" and cut their losses. though, to be fair, both father and son admitted defeat on more than one ocasion, today, which was almost heartening... ;o)
*giggle* and he's just nodded off in front of the football. poor love - he's had a tiring day...
writing news...writing news... welll... not much. i'm going to do some editing on cirque du seul tomorrow. and charley's still alive and... er... not exactly kicking, but he wants me to get some more of his story written, at least. still not entirely sure what, but i'll see about that one. CdeC, first. oddly enough, that seems to be getting a little easier, now the two MCs have got it on, and the story's gaining a little momentum, too. so looking forward to that. think i'm gonna tidy it up, then print it out to give it a proper read. i so can't read stuff properly on a pooter screen. especially if i've written it. the one remove of the printed page simultaneously gives me a little distance, and allows me to get further into the story. habit of a lifetime's reading of the printed word, i guess.
i still want an e-reader, though.
there have been various brainfarts over the last few days that i thought, "oooh... i really ought to blog about that..." and then didn't. nothing earth-shattering. i mean, i didn't invent time-travel and then blow my nose on the formula, or anything, but just...yano...stuff. and then, of course, i forgot it all. well, apart from how much Debenhams sucks. for me, at least. i mean... ok, here's the thing:
debenhams, as any Britisher will tell you, is a big shop with branches pretty much fucking everywhere. it's a ubiquitous department store. christmas 2009, i was shopping in there for a pair of slippers for my dear ol' dad (who, incidentally, is seventy this year. EEEK! O_O ). that, for a start, should tell you something about the sort of place it is. but i digress. they have lots of brand names in there, and designers designing exclusive ranges of...er...stuff for them. mostly clothes/soft furnishings. and usually with a price to match. aaaanyway. i was on the phone to my mum whilst i was looking for these slippers - quizzing her about size, colour and style - when i came across a set of Jasper Conran jammies. now, i adore jammies. i don't wear 'em in bed - i just like to loll around the house in them and fluffy socks and my beloved purple dressing gown. particularly after i've just had a shower. these jammies were--inevitably--purple...
...incidentally, please note the clever use of the em-dash there - just for Ciara....
...and i spent a minute or so squeeing over them to my mum. i mean - i really, really liked them. i could not, however, justify spending twenty five quid on a pair of jammies when i already have several. so the JCpj's went unmolested.
fast forward past the christmas shopping to the day itself. what should i get in my christmas box from my aunty? yep - you guessed it. happy Squeaky. :)
sadly, however, they didn't fit. lovely aunty said not to worry, as she and mum were heading out on a sale spree just after christmas, and she would exchagne them for a bigger size. but they didn't have any. so they exchanged them for a gift card instead.
i tried to spend it. i really, really did. i looked for footwear, outerwear, dresses, costume jewellery, nightwear, nail polish, kitchen utensils, a hot water bottle. they had nothing for me. nuh-thing.
after a year of trying, i finally managed to spend it on friday. on a set of bathroom scales and a small (purple) leatherbound notebook. gosh - the excitement....
FFS! is it me? am i soooo hard to please?
or is it that debenhams caters to ..... well, look - i'm starting to get a picture of a typical debenham's shopper, and i'm sorry if you love the place, and the following description offends you, but this is just the image that pops into my head with increasing frequency following my frustrating experience. she's in her late fifties/early sixties. she wears uncomfortable-looking gold coloured shoes, and too much make-up. her hair sports a bad (yet expensive) dye job, and she wears a lot of navy. she carries a hideous, oversized handbag that features gold chains threaded with black ribbon, or diamante, or gold quilted fabric, or a combination of all of the above. and she has a fairly commodious wallet. i'm sure she's a very nice lady, but she really, really isn't me. i have to admit to a feeling of relief that i won't have to go in there again any time soon.
ahem. apologies. that shop has been annoying me for quite some time, now.... :-/
in other news... went climbing today. took stepson number two (the one that hasn't made me a grandma), and it was fun. he's never been before. he seemed to really enjoy it. he's expressed a wish to go back, anyway. have to say - he seemed like a natural when we sent him on to the bouldering wall. the only real trouble he had was with his stamina. he's already pretty strong, and he's always liked climbing stuff. and he has that typical Hibberd stubborn streak that makes him not want to give up on stuff when most would think "OK - maybe i can't" and cut their losses. though, to be fair, both father and son admitted defeat on more than one ocasion, today, which was almost heartening... ;o)
*giggle* and he's just nodded off in front of the football. poor love - he's had a tiring day...
writing news...writing news... welll... not much. i'm going to do some editing on cirque du seul tomorrow. and charley's still alive and... er... not exactly kicking, but he wants me to get some more of his story written, at least. still not entirely sure what, but i'll see about that one. CdeC, first. oddly enough, that seems to be getting a little easier, now the two MCs have got it on, and the story's gaining a little momentum, too. so looking forward to that. think i'm gonna tidy it up, then print it out to give it a proper read. i so can't read stuff properly on a pooter screen. especially if i've written it. the one remove of the printed page simultaneously gives me a little distance, and allows me to get further into the story. habit of a lifetime's reading of the printed word, i guess.
i still want an e-reader, though.
Saturday 29 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day... aw hell, who cares...whatever...
like i said - i'm only doing this post so i get to go through 2010's posts to do the year in blog quotes (with apologies for the raggedy layout - blogger's being a shitforbrains). this is entirely for my own amusement, and i don't expect you to stay awake for it. in fact... here - have a pillow.
january
---
...the notion of being able to give my brain a good fettle is appealing. Y'know, like at the times when I've got thoughts buzzing around my head like a fly in a dark bedroom in summer (i can NEVER sleep when those little bastards get in!).
february
---
honestly, i have noooo idea what the neighbours thought as the shrieks of unrestrained joy came echoing through the ridiculously thin wall separating our bathroom from theirs....
march
When he read out one of my tickets - 606 - I...yes...guess what I did?
The entire room heard it. 200 people - including my hero - heard me squeak with excitement.
I didn't however, have time to die of embarrassment, as a split-second before I could, he looked at me with amused approval, and said "Good squeak!" I could have died on the spot, and gone to the next life (or to the mud) content that this one had been worth it.
---
well, well, dear reader. if you were on Twitter this afternoon, round about threeish (BST), you may have seen this:
RRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! AT LAST! AT LAST! AT LAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES! YES, YOU BITCH!!! YOU DIDN'T DEFEAT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and, shortly after, this:
*************************EPIC HAPPYDANCE**********************************
that was the sound of me finally, FINALLY!!! finishing the typing up of the bloody WIP.
RRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! AT LAST! AT LAST! AT LAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES! YES, YOU BITCH!!! YOU DIDN'T DEFEAT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and, shortly after, this:
*************************EPIC HAPPYDANCE**********************************
that was the sound of me finally, FINALLY!!! finishing the typing up of the bloody WIP.
april
or maybe i'm just an inveterate chatterbox with a stationary fetish?...
---
yup, you heard right, dear reader. i am a grandma. at thirty-three years old. sheesh! thanks, guys - way to go! *headsmack*
---
the only trouble with Harborough is that it's so popular (also, people have been climbing there since the 1800's), many of the holds have been polished to glassy smoothness. friction? what's that? had to be sooo careful!
---
dear reader, it hath arrived! the new bike is in da house, and poor Trob is no more. :o(
may
i have absolutely no idea what this is, other than that it turned up in my head late one night, sometime last week...
---
i just got my book in the post!!!
---
just as an aside, it occurs to me to wonder if that's where i keep my story silt, between the shores of sleeping and waking...?
---
It may not seem like a big deal but, to me, it’s the signal that, in the words of The Dooberies, summer’s on it’s way. We have a saying in this part of the world:
Ne’er shed a clout*
‘Till May be out
(*clothing)
Meaning: don’t discard yer woollies ‘till you see the blossom on the Maytree (hawthorn). Even then, it’s not an absolute guide, since the sun’s just gone in, and I’ve had to slip me cardi back on – the breeze is still pretty cold. But I care not. I care not. Because the warms are nearly here, and I miss being able to expose my skin to the bliss of the sun’s rays.
Ne’er shed a clout*
‘Till May be out
(*clothing)
Meaning: don’t discard yer woollies ‘till you see the blossom on the Maytree (hawthorn). Even then, it’s not an absolute guide, since the sun’s just gone in, and I’ve had to slip me cardi back on – the breeze is still pretty cold. But I care not. I care not. Because the warms are nearly here, and I miss being able to expose my skin to the bliss of the sun’s rays.
june
july
---
i keep hitting walls with "OK, smartass, what happens next, then?" scrawled all over them in dripping red paint.
but it's coming. the working title is utterly crap, and there's already a lot that needs poking, but i still have a connection with it, and ideas for what happens later (without any idea of how i'm going to get from here to there), but it's coming.... :)
but it's coming. the working title is utterly crap, and there's already a lot that needs poking, but i still have a connection with it, and ideas for what happens later (without any idea of how i'm going to get from here to there), but it's coming.... :)
august
*checks pic folders for Stuff I Have Done Recently*
----
And the concept was always guaranteed to get my attention, having spent so many hours as a child pondering the differences between dreams and reality, and how one could really, *really* tell one from the other. And if that telling would be right. So glad it really *isn't* just me. And the guy who played Eames? Hot damn! *thud*
---
we hadn't been there ten minutes before the guy on the pitch next to us was taking pictures of his kids giving the VeeDub wave and saying "Duuuuude!" in their really tiny little voices. sooooo cute!
---
seriously - how many places could this door lead to? on this plane or any other?
september
october
in case you're wondering, Talulah isn't an all-terrain vehicle, there's a dirt road that leads right through the heart of the forest. the potholes in said road, however, had me gritting my teeth and screwing my eyes shut waiting for the crunch of a grounding. thankfully, hubby managed to avoid the deepest ones.
---
ladies and gentlemen, i take great pleasure in introducing you to Max The Cat.
---
Twenty five hours to go. And I have no plot, no characters, no setting, no idea. Fuck yeah! Bring it on, NaNoWriMo!!! :D
P.S. Wish me luck, dear reader, i'm gonna need it... ;)
XXX
P.S. Wish me luck, dear reader, i'm gonna need it... ;)
XXX
november
(no posts due to NaNoWriMo)
december
so there you have it. thirty days of slog, and here i am. the proud author of my THIRD NOVEL!!!
i can hardly believe it, but i've done it again, and i'm a winner again! :D
i can hardly believe it, but i've done it again, and i'm a winner again! :D
---
i was quite pleased that the results were at least readable. i tweeted them (with apologies for how depressing the second one was), and got some generous replies from some very nice people (if you're reading this, thank you all!). also an injunction never to apologise for having created something. which was lovely, and made me smile.
---
hmph. bah bloody humbug. oh, well - at least we'll get to see friends we don't see nearly often enough.
although, to be fair to myself, i *did* in fact manage to aquire, wrap and post presents for my brother, sister-in-law and niece in astonishingly good time this year. was actually quite proud of this achievement (despite the fact that the parcel also contained sis-in-law's birthday present which should have reached her by the 5th of november... *facepalm*)
although, to be fair to myself, i *did* in fact manage to aquire, wrap and post presents for my brother, sister-in-law and niece in astonishingly good time this year. was actually quite proud of this achievement (despite the fact that the parcel also contained sis-in-law's birthday present which should have reached her by the 5th of november... *facepalm*)
---
soooo... whilst fighting the cat for posession of my lap and trying to prevent him from treading all over the keyboard, i was perusing the blog of the lady who has been Drabbling so marvellously all over the comments of my previous post (hi Liz! *waves*). I saw that she was doing a thirty day blog challenge. (...uh... what happened to that, BTW - xmas get in the way...? *sympathy*), and I thought it might be a somewhat interesting exercise. i mean - i know hardly anybody ever reads this poor wittering, but perhaps i'll learn something about myself...? (N.B. added edit: er....not really, no....)
---
so christmas is over. all of the rushing around is done, the presents have been given and received, too much food has been consumed, and life is beginning to show signs of returning to normal.
Thursday 27 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Fail
nope - i'm grumpy and hormonal, and i'm not gonna do it, dammit! anyway - what kind of poor, tortured soul wants to know about my day, week or month in great detail? what are you, some kind of masochist??? 0.o the only reason i'm planning on doing tomorrow's post is that it will give me a chance to nick an idea from @abivandenberg and do the year in blog quotes....
for now, here's another picture - this time of my favourite type of cloud:
for now, here's another picture - this time of my favourite type of cloud:
Quote from Captain Daniel, "Flying to the north of Dresden last August (on the way to Prague), we had to deviate around this Cumulonimbus, as we were just passing, it became bathed in the setting sun."
© Daniel Hunn.
(lifted from the website of The Cloud Appreciation Society)
Tuesday 25 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 25 - Your day, in great detail
it. was. a. bitch.
i have been sporadically taking notes throughout the day, in order to facilitate the writing of this post. sadly, however, i am buggered, banjaxed and otherwise bolloxed.
no post today, i'm afraid - haven't got the energy.
instead, here is a picture of something beautiful:
i have been sporadically taking notes throughout the day, in order to facilitate the writing of this post. sadly, however, i am buggered, banjaxed and otherwise bolloxed.
no post today, i'm afraid - haven't got the energy.
instead, here is a picture of something beautiful:
you're welcome.
Monday 24 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 24 — Whatever tickles your fancy
*checks watch*
it's definitely day 24, right?
right
sooo... how about the dfferent types of climbing? there's a bit of a visual glossary at the bottom, if all the equipment confuses you. ...it still confuses the hell out of me, sometimes... there are several other types of climbing, but these are, i think, the three main types...
Trad
traditional, obviously. this is the type of climbing you're most likely to be familliar with. it's the type that requires all sorts of curious and arcane equipment, such as nuts, friends or cams, quickdraws, rope, karabiners or krabs, straps, tape, harness, rock shoes, chalk bags, hexes, helmets, belay (pronounced bee-lay) devices, and about a million other curious and exciting-looking bits and bobs. doing it properly costs a bleedin' fortune, mate. it's done on rock that has cracks, fissures and pockets in which to lodge your cams, hexes and nuts...
*pause for juvenile sniggering*
...and is tricky. you put your safety equipment in as you go, and this takes practice and experience. if you cock up the placement of a nut, for example...
*pauses for more juvenile sniggering*
...when your second comes up and puts strain on it, it can pop out of the rock and whack you painfully in the head, or other parts. same goes for hexes (which are really more like giant nuts than anything else) and cams. also, if you fall, you want to be goddamned sure that shit's in there nice and tight. a fall is terrifying enough, believe me, without "unzipping" your nuts (yeah, yeah yeah - when you've finished.....jeez - how old are you?) all the way down the rockface.
Sport
this requires much, much less equipment than trad. simply rope, harness, quickdraws, rock shoes, belay device, chalk bag, and a helmet, if you've got any sense. this type of climbing is done on much smoother rock walls with few or no places to put safety equipment. on a sport climb, you clip a quickdraw to the eyebolts already drilled into the rock (by your friendly local or national climbing or mountaineering organisation), and then run your rope through the other end of the quickdraw as you go. it will have an extra-strong loop or clip at the top, called a lower-off point. (and if you've seen the movie 127 hours - awesome, BTW - this is the piece of metal he kisses towards the end) when you reach that, you clip the rope through it, and then get lowered down, collecting your quickdraws alng the way (or leaving them in place for your second to collect when they climb up).
Free
this, as far as i'm concerned, is the preserve of nutters.
using no equipment other than a chalkbag and some rock shoes, you climb your chosen route with nothing to arrest your fall, should you slip. *shudder*
some people like to do it naked, too.
Glossary
it's definitely day 24, right?
right
sooo... how about the dfferent types of climbing? there's a bit of a visual glossary at the bottom, if all the equipment confuses you. ...it still confuses the hell out of me, sometimes... there are several other types of climbing, but these are, i think, the three main types...
Trad
traditional, obviously. this is the type of climbing you're most likely to be familliar with. it's the type that requires all sorts of curious and arcane equipment, such as nuts, friends or cams, quickdraws, rope, karabiners or krabs, straps, tape, harness, rock shoes, chalk bags, hexes, helmets, belay (pronounced bee-lay) devices, and about a million other curious and exciting-looking bits and bobs. doing it properly costs a bleedin' fortune, mate. it's done on rock that has cracks, fissures and pockets in which to lodge your cams, hexes and nuts...
*pause for juvenile sniggering*
...and is tricky. you put your safety equipment in as you go, and this takes practice and experience. if you cock up the placement of a nut, for example...
*pauses for more juvenile sniggering*
...when your second comes up and puts strain on it, it can pop out of the rock and whack you painfully in the head, or other parts. same goes for hexes (which are really more like giant nuts than anything else) and cams. also, if you fall, you want to be goddamned sure that shit's in there nice and tight. a fall is terrifying enough, believe me, without "unzipping" your nuts (yeah, yeah yeah - when you've finished.....jeez - how old are you?) all the way down the rockface.
Sport
this requires much, much less equipment than trad. simply rope, harness, quickdraws, rock shoes, belay device, chalk bag, and a helmet, if you've got any sense. this type of climbing is done on much smoother rock walls with few or no places to put safety equipment. on a sport climb, you clip a quickdraw to the eyebolts already drilled into the rock (by your friendly local or national climbing or mountaineering organisation), and then run your rope through the other end of the quickdraw as you go. it will have an extra-strong loop or clip at the top, called a lower-off point. (and if you've seen the movie 127 hours - awesome, BTW - this is the piece of metal he kisses towards the end) when you reach that, you clip the rope through it, and then get lowered down, collecting your quickdraws alng the way (or leaving them in place for your second to collect when they climb up).
Free
this, as far as i'm concerned, is the preserve of nutters.
using no equipment other than a chalkbag and some rock shoes, you climb your chosen route with nothing to arrest your fall, should you slip. *shudder*
some people like to do it naked, too.
Glossary
rock shoes. these have a soft upper, sticky, smooth rubber soles, and generally a pointed toe (to allow you to get easier putchase in those tiny, tricky cracks
on the left are cams or "friends" - these can be squeezed to close the head, and then inserted into the crack where the head expands and (hopefully) grips the rock. top right are karabiners, or "krabs". these are hugely useful things which clip the various parts of your climbing rig together. bottom right are nuts. these are carefully shaped nuggets of metal which can be inserted into cracks and then, by virtue of their odd shape, wedged tight. the wire on the end allows you to clip a krab to it, and then run your rope through the krab. bottom middle is a nut key. one of my best friends on a trad climb (since i'm usually the second - hubby being a better climber). this marvellous and wonderful little device allows you to lever a nut out from a crack if it has become wedged. absolutely invaluable!
quickdraws. these allow for quick and (relatively) easy clipping on to various bits of kit.
belay devices come in many weird and wonderful shapes. this is the bit that the second uses to hold the rope taut without getting rope burn should the climber fall. it's a sort of friction lock, working on the pulley principle. i can hold hubby's weight with three fingers using one of these.
the chalk bag. this hangs from the harness, or a belt. it can hold loose chalk or, as in the picture, a chalk ball. this is loose chalk held inside a mesh which is released when you squeeze the ball. generally insisted on by indoor climbing walls as, if you fall, the chalk doesn't explode everywhere.
And Finally...
i urge you to watch this video. it will blow your mind. takes a while to load, but it's worth it...
Sunday 23 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 23 — A recipe
dammit! i cocked up - day 21 should have been a recipe, not a website! *headdesk*
very well, then - i shall recipe-ize now. i'm a reluctant and hit-and-miss cook, but occasionally i add a dish to my limited repetoire. here's one i invented not too long ago, and it's well tasty. had it yesterday, in fact.
chilli-chorizo-noodle-thingy - serves two
ingredients:
one jar Napolina chilli & tomato pasta sauce.
enough noodles for two (or four if you do what i do and give the chickens the leftover noodles) you can use any pasta you like, but i prefer noodles - better taste and texture. and i can't cook pasta very well, all right?
about 5-6 inches of chorizo (approx 1 inch thick)
about 200g mushrooms (i use chestnut mushrooms)
a couple of smallish onions
grated chese to taste (i use gruyere)
all ingredient quantities are approximate - experiment with quantities
a couple of pasta bowls
method:
very well, then - i shall recipe-ize now. i'm a reluctant and hit-and-miss cook, but occasionally i add a dish to my limited repetoire. here's one i invented not too long ago, and it's well tasty. had it yesterday, in fact.
chilli-chorizo-noodle-thingy - serves two
ingredients:
one jar Napolina chilli & tomato pasta sauce.
enough noodles for two (or four if you do what i do and give the chickens the leftover noodles) you can use any pasta you like, but i prefer noodles - better taste and texture. and i can't cook pasta very well, all right?
about 5-6 inches of chorizo (approx 1 inch thick)
about 200g mushrooms (i use chestnut mushrooms)
a couple of smallish onions
grated chese to taste (i use gruyere)
all ingredient quantities are approximate - experiment with quantities
a couple of pasta bowls
method:
- chop the onions, mushrooms and chorizo, chuck 'em in a pan with a bit of oil, and simmer on a low heat until the juices have mixed and the onion is more-or-less transparent
- toss in the jar of sauce (rinse out the jar with a little water and chuck that in too), and mix it all up.
- allow to simmer whilst you cook the noodles
- dump the noodles in the pasta bowls with the tomatoey/mushroomy/chorizoey/oniony stuff on top.
- sprinkle a bit of grated cheese on top to taste
- scoff with "om nom nom" noises
Saturday 22 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 21 - a website & Day 22 - a YouTube video
i seem to have spent most of this challenge not quite sticking to the rules in one way or another. but it's my blog, and i can do what i like. so there. *pouts*
actually, i was knackered last night, and just couldn't face going through all of the rigmarole of blogging (i think i've explained before somewhere this month what a pain in the ass it is to just get online, so i won't go over it again), and besides, i was busy putting a face-mask on, wearing jammies, watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and cuddling wih an equally knackered hubby.
so.
two posts for the price of one.
first: a website.
i played with the idea of linking to Neil Gaiman's Website, since it was sort of my introduction to the wider wonderful weirdness of the web, but that's too obvious. another i looked at is the cheezburger network, because i like to laugh, and i'm guaranteed a chuckle from there. but everybody's seen that website in one form or another. i mean, everybody knows what a LOLcat is, right?
so how about xkcd? it's (quote) "a webcomic of romace, sarcasm, math and language". basically, it's mostly stick figures making whimsical jokes. i admit to not getting all of the jokes, since a lot of them depend on the reader being a cleverer and more familliar with popular culture and technology than i. but i get most on some level, and it's endearingly and unashamedly geeky. click on the "random" button to get a fairly wide selection of cartoons about a surprisingly wide range of topics (though physics and technology are heavily favoured). although there's a pretty good selection here, too. *chuckle*
and today's offering: a YouTube Video.
aw, c'mooooon - there's f**kin' billions of these things!
the most recent one i watched was for Amanda Palmer's awesome new single: Map Of Tasmania.
geographical / cultural note: "map of Tasmania" is an Australian euphemism for female pubic hair, as the island of Tasmania is vaguely triangular in shape.... (hence the catcall: "Hey, love - show us yer map of Tasmania!") i love the song, and the video - as well as looking great - made me LMAO.
enjoy! :oD
.
actually, i was knackered last night, and just couldn't face going through all of the rigmarole of blogging (i think i've explained before somewhere this month what a pain in the ass it is to just get online, so i won't go over it again), and besides, i was busy putting a face-mask on, wearing jammies, watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and cuddling wih an equally knackered hubby.
so.
two posts for the price of one.
first: a website.
i played with the idea of linking to Neil Gaiman's Website, since it was sort of my introduction to the wider wonderful weirdness of the web, but that's too obvious. another i looked at is the cheezburger network, because i like to laugh, and i'm guaranteed a chuckle from there. but everybody's seen that website in one form or another. i mean, everybody knows what a LOLcat is, right?
so how about xkcd? it's (quote) "a webcomic of romace, sarcasm, math and language". basically, it's mostly stick figures making whimsical jokes. i admit to not getting all of the jokes, since a lot of them depend on the reader being a cleverer and more familliar with popular culture and technology than i. but i get most on some level, and it's endearingly and unashamedly geeky. click on the "random" button to get a fairly wide selection of cartoons about a surprisingly wide range of topics (though physics and technology are heavily favoured). although there's a pretty good selection here, too. *chuckle*
and today's offering: a YouTube Video.
aw, c'mooooon - there's f**kin' billions of these things!
the most recent one i watched was for Amanda Palmer's awesome new single: Map Of Tasmania.
geographical / cultural note: "map of Tasmania" is an Australian euphemism for female pubic hair, as the island of Tasmania is vaguely triangular in shape.... (hence the catcall: "Hey, love - show us yer map of Tasmania!") i love the song, and the video - as well as looking great - made me LMAO.
enjoy! :oD
.
Thursday 20 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 20 — A hobby of yours
this could be tricky...
i don't really have any hobbies, as such. well - i don't really think about the things i do as hobbies, anyway.
i think i might have to cheat again...
first and foremost, of course, is reading, but that's less of a hobby and more of a way of life. i'm sure it's that way for many of those who might read this post, since most will follow the link i post on Twitter, and most of my Twitterati are writers of one stripe or another. if anyone else comes across this...
hi! say hello, whydontcha? i'm quite friendly, you know. :o)
i suppose i've had quite a few hobbies at one time or another in my life - but nothing i do constantly. i have a butterfly mind (read: short attention span and limited staying power). amongst the activities i do or have done in the past, and in no particular order, are:
- making greeting cards
- origami
- macrame
- knitting
- making friendship bracelets
- climbing
- writing
- aikido (though that is one i will never be going back to - faaaaaar too active XP)
- writing out the lyrics to my favourite Iron Maiden songs (that one was a loooong time ago - before the interwebz, even! )
- ...er...does listening to music count? probably not...
- dancing (not just ballroom - i used to do ballet. i admit to giving it up aged seven, but it still counts, right...?)
as you can probably tell from the list, i have the urge to be creative, or at least make/create stuff. sadly, i'm hampered by a lack of creativity, and my tendency to be easily dist.... oooh! shiny thing! O_O
do you have any hobbies, dear reader? care to share...?
.
Wednesday 19 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 19 — A talent of yours
as i mentioned yesterday, i have several utterly useless but vaguely entertaining talents/party tricks/whatevers, but i'm going to be a good girl tonight, and pick just one.
all right, dear reader - do you remember the lengthy weirdness that was Twin Peaks? i was at a very impressionable age (14) when i first saw it. (i say first, because i think ive seen it twice since - still makes very, very little bloody sense, though!) so there are certain scenes that left a vivid image burned on my brain (David Duchovny in drag, anyone...?), but the one in which Audrey Horne auditioned for a position (snigger) at One-Eyed Jacks stands out, because i have mastered the skill which she demonstrated in order to get herself hired. anyone else remember that scene...?
;o)
so come on - share - what's your talent? don't be shy - we've all got at least one. :o)
.
all right, dear reader - do you remember the lengthy weirdness that was Twin Peaks? i was at a very impressionable age (14) when i first saw it. (i say first, because i think ive seen it twice since - still makes very, very little bloody sense, though!) so there are certain scenes that left a vivid image burned on my brain (David Duchovny in drag, anyone...?), but the one in which Audrey Horne auditioned for a position (snigger) at One-Eyed Jacks stands out, because i have mastered the skill which she demonstrated in order to get herself hired. anyone else remember that scene...?
;o)
so come on - share - what's your talent? don't be shy - we've all got at least one. :o)
.
Tuesday 18 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 18 - Whatever tickles your fancy.
Dammit, I’ve been scuppered! Because i had been thinking about this one for a few days, wondering what i could share that wasn’t likely to scar you for life. And realised i have certain bizarre and completely useless talents. But that’s tomorrow’s post. And i can’t just sit here recording random brainfarts, can i? I suppose i could tell you about what I’m doing tonight... but I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before...
Well, hell if i have - I’m gonna tell you again.
Just after Christmas, i suggested to hubby that i might be vaguely interested in taking ballroom dancing lessons. To his credit, he barely flinched and, eventually (if reluctantly), agreed. Quite apart from being a bloke (well...the last time i looked, anyway... ;o), and that not being a traditionally “manly” pursuit, hubby is, whilst not shy, nor introverted, somewhat the opposite of a show-off. He quiet, and speaks usually only when he has something to say worth hearing. In contrast, of course, to me, who chatters on about inanities almost constantly.
Aaanyway.
This extends to dancing in public. He doesn’t. Well... not often. I would even go so far as to say seldom. And he was not keen. And he got less keen as the fateful day approached.
But he did it, for me. And to both our surprise (and my utter delight), he enjoyed it.
We went again last Tuesday, and he enjoyed it again, despite some frustrations at not being able to get a new step we’d been taught. This led to a little fun, actually. Wanting to practice the move, so we didn’t make fools of ourselves tonight, and our house not even being big enough to swing a cat, we needed somewhere else to practice our quickstep corners.
Our house is on a main road, not far down which is the entrance to our local tennis club. The drive to the club goes down between the houses and emerges behind the gardens. Our house backs on to the grass courts. The chain link fence is very useful, since it allows us to see through the trees at the end of the garden to the grass beyond, which (visually, at least), extends our garden. At the end of the drive is a car park.
After dark on Saturday night, we ambled on down there, and practiced. It was funny, and annoying, and irritating, and funny, and dizzying. Spinning round and round trying to get the steps right, I’m surprised we didn’t end up lying in a tangled heap. But we managed. It helps, I find, if I don’t try to lead… >_< We didn’t quite get it, but I think we got better…
I guess I’ll find out in an hour or so…
And in reply to @AislingWeaver, who responded to my cry for help:
Purple. Because it’s sumptuous and delicious, and the right shade can feed my soul. X
Well, hell if i have - I’m gonna tell you again.
Just after Christmas, i suggested to hubby that i might be vaguely interested in taking ballroom dancing lessons. To his credit, he barely flinched and, eventually (if reluctantly), agreed. Quite apart from being a bloke (well...the last time i looked, anyway... ;o), and that not being a traditionally “manly” pursuit, hubby is, whilst not shy, nor introverted, somewhat the opposite of a show-off. He quiet, and speaks usually only when he has something to say worth hearing. In contrast, of course, to me, who chatters on about inanities almost constantly.
Aaanyway.
This extends to dancing in public. He doesn’t. Well... not often. I would even go so far as to say seldom. And he was not keen. And he got less keen as the fateful day approached.
But he did it, for me. And to both our surprise (and my utter delight), he enjoyed it.
We went again last Tuesday, and he enjoyed it again, despite some frustrations at not being able to get a new step we’d been taught. This led to a little fun, actually. Wanting to practice the move, so we didn’t make fools of ourselves tonight, and our house not even being big enough to swing a cat, we needed somewhere else to practice our quickstep corners.
Our house is on a main road, not far down which is the entrance to our local tennis club. The drive to the club goes down between the houses and emerges behind the gardens. Our house backs on to the grass courts. The chain link fence is very useful, since it allows us to see through the trees at the end of the garden to the grass beyond, which (visually, at least), extends our garden. At the end of the drive is a car park.
After dark on Saturday night, we ambled on down there, and practiced. It was funny, and annoying, and irritating, and funny, and dizzying. Spinning round and round trying to get the steps right, I’m surprised we didn’t end up lying in a tangled heap. But we managed. It helps, I find, if I don’t try to lead… >_< We didn’t quite get it, but I think we got better…
I guess I’ll find out in an hour or so…
And in reply to @AislingWeaver, who responded to my cry for help:
Purple. Because it’s sumptuous and delicious, and the right shade can feed my soul. X
Monday 17 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 17 — An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
ooooh.... *rubs hands together*
i've been looking forward to this one. not because i have a great deal to say about this subject. as the saying goes: "I don't know much about art, but i know what i like." or rather, i don't. stuff can grow on me (y'know, like mould), or it can flake off. but there is an awful lot of strange beauty out there, and some of it fills me with bliss. such as the piece i've chosen to share here. it's a piece of sculpture that resides in St Pancras Station in London. the station itself is, quite frankly, a work of art. it is, essentially, a vast dead-end barn, with a sweepingly majestic arched glass roof, where the trains arrive forwards, and leave backwards. it is the sation where the train that travels from Derby to London terminates. i've only been been there twice in the last three years, but both times, i spent a lot of time just looking at the building and the sculpture in it, and the poetry inscribed on the floor. the station has spent many years being lovingly restored to its Victorian glory, and my god, it's gorgeous! *sigh* oh yes - and the beautiful iron beams (now painted a lovely sky-blue) were, i'm proud to say, manufactured not two miles from where i'm currently sitting.
oh, look - i can't just show you the sculpture - i have to share the station, too! everything, in fact! :oD lets face it - i consider the whole thing a work of art.
look, i'm not going to go on and on about this (actually, i might yet - stay tuned, funsters!), but there's a couple of things i really want to show you....
first is this:
and so to the piece of sculpture that started all of this off.:
i've been looking forward to this one. not because i have a great deal to say about this subject. as the saying goes: "I don't know much about art, but i know what i like." or rather, i don't. stuff can grow on me (y'know, like mould), or it can flake off. but there is an awful lot of strange beauty out there, and some of it fills me with bliss. such as the piece i've chosen to share here. it's a piece of sculpture that resides in St Pancras Station in London. the station itself is, quite frankly, a work of art. it is, essentially, a vast dead-end barn, with a sweepingly majestic arched glass roof, where the trains arrive forwards, and leave backwards. it is the sation where the train that travels from Derby to London terminates. i've only been been there twice in the last three years, but both times, i spent a lot of time just looking at the building and the sculpture in it, and the poetry inscribed on the floor. the station has spent many years being lovingly restored to its Victorian glory, and my god, it's gorgeous! *sigh* oh yes - and the beautiful iron beams (now painted a lovely sky-blue) were, i'm proud to say, manufactured not two miles from where i'm currently sitting.
oh, look - i can't just show you the sculpture - i have to share the station, too! everything, in fact! :oD lets face it - i consider the whole thing a work of art.
look, i'm not going to go on and on about this (actually, i might yet - stay tuned, funsters!), but there's a couple of things i really want to show you....
first is this:
this wonderful, and somewhat scruffy, chap (rendered in glorious life and wind-blown motion by martin jennings) is Sir John Betjeman - a beloved English "poet of the people".
he led the fight to stop the demolition of the beautiful facade of the station (the Midland Hotel, which adorns the front of the station) in the 1960s and is, for that reason, commemorated here. (see this article for a little more info).
it's his poetry you can see inscribed on the cumbrian slate on which he stands.
it reads:
"And in the shadowless unclouded glare / Deep blue above us fades to whiteness where / A misty sea-line meets the wash of air."
he's gazing in wonder at the beautiful roof of the (unromantically named) Barlow Train Shed:
trust me - the photo does not do it justice.
and so to the piece of sculpture that started all of this off.:
"the meeting place" by paul day
again, the photos don't do it justice. it's stunning, and brings tears to my eyes.
since i took these photos in 2008 (coincidentally on my way to meet Neil Gaiman, though i didn't know it at the time...), more has been added around the base of the plinth, depicting... well, all sorts of railway-related things, and it. is. awesome. astonishing in its detail and artistry.
so there you go - Saint Pancras Station.
oh, and one other thing, because i can rarely stop at one....
this painting, which has hung in our front room for many years, was painted by none other than my talented hubby *tries not to burst with pride*
.
Sunday 16 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 15 — A fanfic & Day 16 — A song that makes you cry (or nearly)
yes, yes, i know - cheating again. in my defence, i can only say that for the last hour and a half, i have been wrestling with my internet connection, so you wuld have had day 15's post on day 15 if my sparkles hadn't fizzled and caused repeated headdesking. i am now back to using my phone as a modem, as it's far too late at night to be dealing with someone in a call centre who does not have English as their mother tongue and who will inevitably ask me "did you try turning it off and then back on again?" (to which the answer, of course, is "YES!!!" >_< )
ok, day 15 - a fanfic.
so.... what? one i wrote, or one i enjoy? makes no difference either way, since i neither read nor write fanfic. i know lots of people do. and gain a very great deal of enjoyment from those acts. i confess, though, it's not a thing that has ever appealed to me. for me as a reader and writer, i cannot see the point. as a reader, i want the magic that only comes from the mind of the original author. as a writer, i wouldn't want to mess with beloved characters, and i would be forever comparing my work with the original and finding it wanting. i have enough problems with confidence, thankyouverymuch.. this doesn't mean, though, that i look down on it, or disdain it - i just don't think it's for me.
...er...sorry.
day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
well, one we've had already - on day one of this challenge, in fact. but there is another that leaps almost immediately to mind, and it's this one:
ok, day 15 - a fanfic.
so.... what? one i wrote, or one i enjoy? makes no difference either way, since i neither read nor write fanfic. i know lots of people do. and gain a very great deal of enjoyment from those acts. i confess, though, it's not a thing that has ever appealed to me. for me as a reader and writer, i cannot see the point. as a reader, i want the magic that only comes from the mind of the original author. as a writer, i wouldn't want to mess with beloved characters, and i would be forever comparing my work with the original and finding it wanting. i have enough problems with confidence, thankyouverymuch.. this doesn't mean, though, that i look down on it, or disdain it - i just don't think it's for me.
...er...sorry.
day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
well, one we've had already - on day one of this challenge, in fact. but there is another that leaps almost immediately to mind, and it's this one:
Two Little Boys by Rolf Harris
alternatively, this one is achingly poignant, and the more i listen to it, the sadder it gets. it makes my soul weep.
Famous Blue Raincoat by Leonard Cohen
P.S. these may or may not show up, the aforementioned problems and a new (to) me feature of Blogger may let me down. let me know if they do, and if the songs make you cry, too...
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Friday 14 January 2011
30 day blog challenge: Day 14 — A non-fictional book
once again, i'm umming and ahhing between two. one by a hero of mine (astonishingly, not Neil Gaiman. yes - i have other heroes! *le gasp*) and another by one of my favourite DJs (of which there are few).
i read very few non-fiction books. in fact, it may even be two a year or less. just for fun, i'm going to try to remember and list all of the non-fiction books i've ever read (and please forgive my faulty memory)...
argh. *feels old*
ok, having done that list, i realise that can't pick just one. somehow, it's harder to pick from a small group than it is from a big group. it's not that i don't want to hurt the others' feelings, or anything. well....ok, maybe a bit...but books are people too!
*cough*
but it depends on what i might think you're after as to which one i'm more likely to wave under your nose saying, "you HAVE to read this!!!"
aaaaaaanyway.....
a small list to chose from. although, thinking about it, there's one i have yet to mention that stands head-and-shoulders above all of these. above any book ever written, in fact.
for me, at least, the hands-down winner is this nonfiction book.
i heart it. thanks for teaching me about it, grandad. X
.
i read very few non-fiction books. in fact, it may even be two a year or less. just for fun, i'm going to try to remember and list all of the non-fiction books i've ever read (and please forgive my faulty memory)...
- life on air - david attenborough (the former)
- thank you for the days - mark radcliffe (the latter - there's that lovely word again! :)
- are you dave gorman? - dave gorman and danny wallace
- yes man - danny wallace
- a history of the british isles (or 2000 years of upper class twits in charge) {or soething along those lines, anyway} - john lloyd (er...i think...?)
- three by a lady whose name i can't recall, nor the book titles, but they concerned her experiences of going off to live the life of a scottish island crofter in the 1950s and were very intersting, and often extremely funny
- several by james herriot, a country vet in the yorkshire dales - also incredibly funny and often very poignant.
- one by gervais finn, possibly called the other side of the dale (?)
- in search of captain zero, and, can't you get along with anyone? - alan c weisbecker
- boy - roald dahl
- red dog - louis de bernieres
- biographies of pink floyd, billy connolly, bill hicks
- wicked plants - amy stewart
argh. *feels old*
ok, having done that list, i realise that can't pick just one. somehow, it's harder to pick from a small group than it is from a big group. it's not that i don't want to hurt the others' feelings, or anything. well....ok, maybe a bit...but books are people too!
*cough*
but it depends on what i might think you're after as to which one i'm more likely to wave under your nose saying, "you HAVE to read this!!!"
aaaaaaanyway.....
a small list to chose from. although, thinking about it, there's one i have yet to mention that stands head-and-shoulders above all of these. above any book ever written, in fact.
for me, at least, the hands-down winner is this nonfiction book.
i heart it. thanks for teaching me about it, grandad. X
.
Thursday 13 January 2011
30 day blog challenge: Day 13 — A fictional book
...and this means....what...exactly? an imaginary book? or a book of fiction? badly-worded heading there, i feel. ambiguous. however, having pondered and debated with hubby, and considered tomorrow's title, i think it's probably the latter.
(N.B. weird wordie that i am, i specifically arranged the first part of that paragraph just so i could use the word "latter". i've always been fond of that word...)
but... haven't we already had "Your favourite book"? why put in two? as a lifelong bibliophle, i have to say i really couldn't give a monkey's chuff. opportunity to think and talk about books? i'm in! :oD
but what to pick? what to pick?
how'bout One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night - the one i'm reading right now?
or, more accurately re-reading. for the third, or possibly fourth time. it's by Christopher Brookmyre - an author who comes second only in my affections to Neil Gaiman. principally because of how much he makes me laugh. and i'm not talking chuckling, here - i'm talking great, guffawing belly-laughs.
...not all the time. oh, no. but then who wants that? where nuance? where tragedy? &c. &c.
...but he did write a scene that had me laughing so hard that, desperate though i was to read it to a puzzled and mildly alarmed hubby, i. just. couldn't. it involved discovery of accidental cannibalism, an ice-bucket, and synchronised vomiting of epic proportions. oh, and there was the one where, with the careful (or, more accurately, careless) application of a snooker table, a mercenary accidentally cut his own head off. seriously - one of the literary comedy highlights of my entire life. so elegantly and logically set up, so gracefully executed (if you'll forgive the pun >_< ).... i'm in awe.
and the titles of his books are often works of art in themselves. for example - who wouldn't be intrigued by a book titled "A Big Boy Did It And Ran Away"...?
now, admittedly, OFDITMOTN doesn't contain as many guffaws, but the part where the recently-retired policeman get's knocked unconscious by a disembodied arm falling from the sky is pretty funny....
the plot centres around a school reunion, which takes place on a decommisioned oil rig that has been converted into "The Floating Island Paradise Resort". which subsequently gets attacked by a bunch of inept mercenaries hell-bent on slaughtering everyone on board. one of the things Brookmyre does so very well is paint schooldays, and the relationships, language, politics and culture peculiar to that environment. several of his novels concern this particular aspect of the human experience. but there's so much more than that in there. Brookmyre pokes fun at everything. sometimes affectionately, sometimes with loathing and incredulity at the stuidity and malice of "the people". but always with inventive accuracy.
dear reader, i urge you to read this book. or, indeed, anything by this master storyteller (apart from Boiling a frog which, for reasons i won't go into, i enjoyed the least, but whose title is still a wonderful thing, and perfectly encapsulates the essence of the book). invariably fast-paced, intelligent and funny, they are joyous. and i'm bloody dying for him to write another. i'm twitching like a junkie needing a fix.
for your consideration: the two mentioned earlier (particularly AFAGUSLAE, which is about the power and strength of motherhood, and women in general, and has some really cool gadgets in it).
all images borrowed from www.fantasticfiction.com. i'll be happy to put them back if they're not happy about this.
(N.B. weird wordie that i am, i specifically arranged the first part of that paragraph just so i could use the word "latter". i've always been fond of that word...)
but... haven't we already had "Your favourite book"? why put in two? as a lifelong bibliophle, i have to say i really couldn't give a monkey's chuff. opportunity to think and talk about books? i'm in! :oD
but what to pick? what to pick?
how'bout One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night - the one i'm reading right now?
or, more accurately re-reading. for the third, or possibly fourth time. it's by Christopher Brookmyre - an author who comes second only in my affections to Neil Gaiman. principally because of how much he makes me laugh. and i'm not talking chuckling, here - i'm talking great, guffawing belly-laughs.
...not all the time. oh, no. but then who wants that? where nuance? where tragedy? &c. &c.
...but he did write a scene that had me laughing so hard that, desperate though i was to read it to a puzzled and mildly alarmed hubby, i. just. couldn't. it involved discovery of accidental cannibalism, an ice-bucket, and synchronised vomiting of epic proportions. oh, and there was the one where, with the careful (or, more accurately, careless) application of a snooker table, a mercenary accidentally cut his own head off. seriously - one of the literary comedy highlights of my entire life. so elegantly and logically set up, so gracefully executed (if you'll forgive the pun >_< ).... i'm in awe.
and the titles of his books are often works of art in themselves. for example - who wouldn't be intrigued by a book titled "A Big Boy Did It And Ran Away"...?
or "All Fun And Games Until Somebody Loses An Eye"...?
now, admittedly, OFDITMOTN doesn't contain as many guffaws, but the part where the recently-retired policeman get's knocked unconscious by a disembodied arm falling from the sky is pretty funny....
the plot centres around a school reunion, which takes place on a decommisioned oil rig that has been converted into "The Floating Island Paradise Resort". which subsequently gets attacked by a bunch of inept mercenaries hell-bent on slaughtering everyone on board. one of the things Brookmyre does so very well is paint schooldays, and the relationships, language, politics and culture peculiar to that environment. several of his novels concern this particular aspect of the human experience. but there's so much more than that in there. Brookmyre pokes fun at everything. sometimes affectionately, sometimes with loathing and incredulity at the stuidity and malice of "the people". but always with inventive accuracy.
dear reader, i urge you to read this book. or, indeed, anything by this master storyteller (apart from Boiling a frog which, for reasons i won't go into, i enjoyed the least, but whose title is still a wonderful thing, and perfectly encapsulates the essence of the book). invariably fast-paced, intelligent and funny, they are joyous. and i'm bloody dying for him to write another. i'm twitching like a junkie needing a fix.
for your consideration: the two mentioned earlier (particularly AFAGUSLAE, which is about the power and strength of motherhood, and women in general, and has some really cool gadgets in it).
all images borrowed from www.fantasticfiction.com. i'll be happy to put them back if they're not happy about this.
Wednesday 12 January 2011
30 Day blog challenge: Day 12 - whatever tickles your fancy
blogging this at work today, in my dinner hour. this is because i'm so fecking tired. tonight's plan includes good food (chippy tea...NOM!!!), shower, jammies, snuggles with hubby and kitteh, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Christopher Brookmyre's One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night, and. nothing. else. noooooo interwebz for Squeaky, oh no siree!
i noticed amongst all of the "your favourite this" and "your favourite that" that there was nowhere for "your favourite poem" in the 30 Day blog challenge. so here, for your delectation and delight, is my offering for day 12 (and the sharp-eyed amongst you may notice a developing theme - it's not my fault, i should have been born with feathers... )
---
N.B. the author of these beautiful words was, i believe, Canadian.
which ought to please my sister-in-bloggery, over at .Square Mug. ;o)
---
this blog challenge has been fun so far, but i have discovered the downside.
we live in a teenytiny house with very little space for desks, tables, etc. and certainly not enough space for the pooter to have a seat of it's very own. so i fold it away somewhere convenient whenever it's not being used. this means it's a flatout pain in the arse to get it out, find a comfy (or not-so-comfy if we're talking about our kitchen chairs >_<) seat, untangle the cables, plug everything in, wait for three hours whilst it goes through its customary warming-up-and-crashing cycle once or twice, and actually get the interwebz to work. therefore, i rarely go on it if i haven't already got something i need to do (blogging, shopping, &c. &c.). however, when i have done the needed thing, i usually find myself happily nattering away to people on Twitter and elsewhere, having half-a-dozen conversations at once, and then realizing that if i don't get to bed soon, i will turn into a pumpkin. and then spend the next day being a rather grumpy zombie and throwing virtual food at @thextraman.
Squeaky needs her sleep. so tonight she needs an early night. and by golly, she ain't gonna get one unless she stays away from that damn machine! i will likely, however, be tweeting from my phone, which is an altogether different prospect, since phonetweeting is a right royal pain in the arse (on mine, at least), therefore i don't natter nearly as much.
so pleasepleaseplease, dear reader, if you see me tweeting after about 10 PM, tell me off and send me to beddybyes?
kthxbai! XXX
.
i noticed amongst all of the "your favourite this" and "your favourite that" that there was nowhere for "your favourite poem" in the 30 Day blog challenge. so here, for your delectation and delight, is my offering for day 12 (and the sharp-eyed amongst you may notice a developing theme - it's not my fault, i should have been born with feathers... )
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
---
Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941
Rest in peace
---
N.B. the author of these beautiful words was, i believe, Canadian.
which ought to please my sister-in-bloggery, over at .Square Mug. ;o)
---
this blog challenge has been fun so far, but i have discovered the downside.
we live in a teenytiny house with very little space for desks, tables, etc. and certainly not enough space for the pooter to have a seat of it's very own. so i fold it away somewhere convenient whenever it's not being used. this means it's a flatout pain in the arse to get it out, find a comfy (or not-so-comfy if we're talking about our kitchen chairs >_<) seat, untangle the cables, plug everything in, wait for three hours whilst it goes through its customary warming-up-and-crashing cycle once or twice, and actually get the interwebz to work. therefore, i rarely go on it if i haven't already got something i need to do (blogging, shopping, &c. &c.). however, when i have done the needed thing, i usually find myself happily nattering away to people on Twitter and elsewhere, having half-a-dozen conversations at once, and then realizing that if i don't get to bed soon, i will turn into a pumpkin. and then spend the next day being a rather grumpy zombie and throwing virtual food at @thextraman.
Squeaky needs her sleep. so tonight she needs an early night. and by golly, she ain't gonna get one unless she stays away from that damn machine! i will likely, however, be tweeting from my phone, which is an altogether different prospect, since phonetweeting is a right royal pain in the arse (on mine, at least), therefore i don't natter nearly as much.
so pleasepleaseplease, dear reader, if you see me tweeting after about 10 PM, tell me off and send me to beddybyes?
kthxbai! XXX
.
Tuesday 11 January 2011
30 day blog challenge: Day 11 — A photo of you taken recently
h'm. not too many of these, either. i'm not the most photogenic of bods.
hmmmm..... *flicks through recent photies*
ok.... here's one. dreadful photo of me, but then they mostly are. i chose it coz it's a good one of my pretty kitteh. ^_^
hmmmm..... *flicks through recent photies*
ok.... here's one. dreadful photo of me, but then they mostly are. i chose it coz it's a good one of my pretty kitteh. ^_^
it's terrifying how much i'm starting to look like my brother as i get older. >_<
alternatively, there's this one - taken in a bathroom at a wedding i attended in the summer. i guess that still counts, right? i mean, geologically speaking, it's practically now...
i don't get dressed up very often. you can tell, can't you...?
(spot the wonky eyeliner...)
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Monday 10 January 2011
30 day blog challenge: Day 10 — A photo of you taken over ten years ago
i don't have many of these, but this one, i'm very fond of. apologies for the quality, but as my scanner's packed away, i had to take a pic of the original on my phone, upload it to twitpic, and then link to the image *phew*. a little roundabout, but hey - i've never been very good at making techie things easy on myself...
it was taken when i was about 18 months old in my Nana and Grandad's back garden.
N.B. the caption is what my mum wrote on the back of the photie...
it was taken when i was about 18 months old in my Nana and Grandad's back garden.
N.B. the caption is what my mum wrote on the back of the photie...
May 1978
Running away from paddling pool
(she screamed when i put her in 'coz she doesn't like cold water)
(or even lukewarm)
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Sunday 9 January 2011
30 day blog challenge: Day 09 — A photo you took
I took this on my phone during our trip to Cornwall and Dorset this last year. god in heaven, the wind was cold on that beach! we are soaking up the last rays of the long light as the sun sinks into the English Channel over Brean Beach. it was a beautiful moment.
.
phone
another challenge from @catinabaglady, this one somewhat smuttier than the last.
it still makes me blush to post something like this, but i'm sure i'll get over it... i hope...
Phone
When her mobile sang out from the bedside table, it dragged her out of a deep, exhausted slumber that she had not been in for very long. Squinting her eyes against the bright morning light, she just about managed to find it and slide it open. Falling back against the rucked pillows, she croaked, "Hello?"
The mildly amused voice on the other end sent a little flare of joy through her belly, and went a long way towards dragging her further from sleep.
"Good morning, my pet."
Smiling sleepily, "Good morning, Sir."
"Still in bed?"
"Not been sleeping well, Sir. I miss you."
She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Poor thing - it's hard for you when I'm away, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. But I know you have to go."
"I miss you too, my pet."
She felt a smug satisfaction at that. Guilt, though, and sympathy, came hot on its heels. Poor thing - he must be aching.
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Sir." She snuggled a little deeper into the quilt and pillows, imagining his arms around her, stroking her, soothing away her loneliness, and his.
"Have you been a good girl?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Not been touching yourself while I've been away, have you?"
Pride crept into her voice. It had been hard work, while missing him so much this past week, to keep her hands off herself, as instructed. But she had done it. Sometimes, she'd found herself doing extra housework, despite her keeping herself and the apartment flawless and spotless, just to try and distract herself from that burgeoning itch that had got stronger and stronger as the days had gone on. But somehow, she had managed. "No, sir - I haven't."
She heard the smile widen, slightly. "That's my good girl. I bet it's been difficult, hasn't it? I bet your pussy's been nasty with your juices for days, hasn't it?"
She shivered with desire. "Yes, sir - it has."
"Is it now? Are you a dirty girl - all slippery from wanting?"
Her breathing and heartbeat began to speed up, a little. "Yes, sir."
"Are you sure? Put your fingers down there and feel, my pet - tell me how wet you are."
Slowly, she did as she was told, sliding her slightly trembling hand down her belly, through her neatly trimmed bush and finally reaching her naked pussy lips which were, indeed, slippery with her juices. She gasped when her fingertips brushed over her engorged clit.
"Tell me."
"I'm wet for you, sir. My pussy's dripping. My clit's budded hard and aching to feel your tongue lapping it." She slid a finger inside herself, then out again, with great difficulty. "My cunt's tight and hot - it's twitching to the sound of your voice, Sir."
His breathing was getting a little heavier. "Do you want to put your fingers in there, you dirty little slut?"
She gasped as she felt her cunt spasm harder. "Yes, sir... oh, yes please, sir..."
"Very well - you may have three."
"Oh, thank you, sir!" she moaned, back arching as she slid three fingers into her pussy and began to slide them in and out of herself, juices flooding around and between her fingers.
"Fuck yourself then, my pet. Dig your fingers deep. Squeeze them as hard as you can with that tight little pussy I love so much. Let me hear how much a dirty little slut like you enjoys playing with herself."
And she did. Slamming her hand into herself repeatedly and wetly, she moaned and gasped and arched and trembled. Soon, he heard a change in her breathing, even as his became hoarse and ragged at the sound of his pet pleasuring herself so very, very far away.
"P... Please, Sir..." she could barely control her voice enough to ask, "Please m... may I come, Sir?"
A deep breath, then: "Yes - come for me, my pet - let me hear how much you miss me."
She let go. Her back arched until only her shoulders, buttocks and heels were touching the bed, and she wailed loud and long, an answering groan coming from the phone still clamped to her ear.
Collapsing on the bed, she lolled and panted, trying to get her breath back, her heart thundering.
From the phone came a hoarse whisper. "I love you, darling. I'll see you tonight."
"I love you, too. And I can't wait. Take care."
"You too, my pet."
As she closed the phone, the bright morning sun caught the gold ring on her left hand. She was still aching for him - there was no other feeling in the world like his cock slamming inside her. But she only had to wait a few more hours to see her husband again.
.
it still makes me blush to post something like this, but i'm sure i'll get over it... i hope...
Phone
When her mobile sang out from the bedside table, it dragged her out of a deep, exhausted slumber that she had not been in for very long. Squinting her eyes against the bright morning light, she just about managed to find it and slide it open. Falling back against the rucked pillows, she croaked, "Hello?"
The mildly amused voice on the other end sent a little flare of joy through her belly, and went a long way towards dragging her further from sleep.
"Good morning, my pet."
Smiling sleepily, "Good morning, Sir."
"Still in bed?"
"Not been sleeping well, Sir. I miss you."
She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Poor thing - it's hard for you when I'm away, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. But I know you have to go."
"I miss you too, my pet."
She felt a smug satisfaction at that. Guilt, though, and sympathy, came hot on its heels. Poor thing - he must be aching.
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Sir." She snuggled a little deeper into the quilt and pillows, imagining his arms around her, stroking her, soothing away her loneliness, and his.
"Have you been a good girl?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Not been touching yourself while I've been away, have you?"
Pride crept into her voice. It had been hard work, while missing him so much this past week, to keep her hands off herself, as instructed. But she had done it. Sometimes, she'd found herself doing extra housework, despite her keeping herself and the apartment flawless and spotless, just to try and distract herself from that burgeoning itch that had got stronger and stronger as the days had gone on. But somehow, she had managed. "No, sir - I haven't."
She heard the smile widen, slightly. "That's my good girl. I bet it's been difficult, hasn't it? I bet your pussy's been nasty with your juices for days, hasn't it?"
She shivered with desire. "Yes, sir - it has."
"Is it now? Are you a dirty girl - all slippery from wanting?"
Her breathing and heartbeat began to speed up, a little. "Yes, sir."
"Are you sure? Put your fingers down there and feel, my pet - tell me how wet you are."
Slowly, she did as she was told, sliding her slightly trembling hand down her belly, through her neatly trimmed bush and finally reaching her naked pussy lips which were, indeed, slippery with her juices. She gasped when her fingertips brushed over her engorged clit.
"Tell me."
"I'm wet for you, sir. My pussy's dripping. My clit's budded hard and aching to feel your tongue lapping it." She slid a finger inside herself, then out again, with great difficulty. "My cunt's tight and hot - it's twitching to the sound of your voice, Sir."
His breathing was getting a little heavier. "Do you want to put your fingers in there, you dirty little slut?"
She gasped as she felt her cunt spasm harder. "Yes, sir... oh, yes please, sir..."
"Very well - you may have three."
"Oh, thank you, sir!" she moaned, back arching as she slid three fingers into her pussy and began to slide them in and out of herself, juices flooding around and between her fingers.
"Fuck yourself then, my pet. Dig your fingers deep. Squeeze them as hard as you can with that tight little pussy I love so much. Let me hear how much a dirty little slut like you enjoys playing with herself."
And she did. Slamming her hand into herself repeatedly and wetly, she moaned and gasped and arched and trembled. Soon, he heard a change in her breathing, even as his became hoarse and ragged at the sound of his pet pleasuring herself so very, very far away.
"P... Please, Sir..." she could barely control her voice enough to ask, "Please m... may I come, Sir?"
A deep breath, then: "Yes - come for me, my pet - let me hear how much you miss me."
She let go. Her back arched until only her shoulders, buttocks and heels were touching the bed, and she wailed loud and long, an answering groan coming from the phone still clamped to her ear.
Collapsing on the bed, she lolled and panted, trying to get her breath back, her heart thundering.
From the phone came a hoarse whisper. "I love you, darling. I'll see you tonight."
"I love you, too. And I can't wait. Take care."
"You too, my pet."
As she closed the phone, the bright morning sun caught the gold ring on her left hand. She was still aching for him - there was no other feeling in the world like his cock slamming inside her. But she only had to wait a few more hours to see her husband again.
.
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