. . . Dear Jasmine;
Apologies for these minutes being so late but really, given some of the complexities facing the Lower Piphill Literary Society (see SCONES below), it’s hardly any wonder, is it? I have to say that I wholeheartedly agree with your remarks of the 27th; that in the absence of a stable chair we really don’t have a leg to stand on - and with our numbers having fallen off recently this is a situation in dire need of a remedy. Again I concur with you, you are quite right; StJohn is just the type of rugged charismatic individual a group such as ours looks for. I believe Lawrence (DH that is) to have been quite correct when he talked of some men being natural leaders.( Read more... )
i believe my first exposure was a Jeeves book swiped from the shelf of
a holiday cottage; i must've been quite young since i remember being
scared by the cover of The Ka of Gifford Hilary!
( Read more... )
And now we present this year’s exciting episode of Voyage to Wherever!
Strap in and belt up as our heroes, Captain James ‘Torch’ Beam, Lummy and Titch prepare for blast off.
Can they solve the mystery of the disappearing think tank? Do we care?
Are we supposed to believe that anyone even noticed? Find out now!
The above mentioned early stocking (which is itself available on a ltd release for guests spots, walk ons and product placemats - or you can download it here brothers and sisters in the comments section) gives good blessing and bestows forth the annual Lennon trove of undusted rusted delights. Now THIS, (if anyone remembers my many and HEATED letters to the Opple office and my postings to Santa at the Absolute-Elfwear web site you will understand my glee,) THIS i have been waiting on you all for quite some time in KFC.. (cute with the puns as ever i see - Ed. i see Ed too - Ted)
Finally what we have here is the whole story glimpsed but briefly in last year's 'Lennon Defuddled' selection. And it's a JOY. Not only do we have the (perhaps overly) familiar "I was lost, unwashed and wasted on the weekend i spent away from a little country called home and middle aged to boot but now i'm remixed and i feel alright, yeah yeah" but we get the full panoply of takes and mixes, allowing us to better understand the process involved in putting together the official release (and the expensive use of two resurrected ex-Beatles) as well as gaining a truly myth busting insight into the mind and time of that most mercurial of talents, John Lennon - who nearly recorded the song.
At the fantastic value price of one small family, i think every home would be happier this yule with the merry halls a-hopping to this exquisite collection and its miraculous hidden track (and personal favourite) Nth Dream.
Here's to Xmas - and a big cheers to all of you!
last years paltry selection versus this years heavy hitter - a striking 2 syllable gain
Laugh? I nearly looked up Lennon on Amazon.
*this of course does make ALL the difference and indeed the box is designed for maximum impact in quadmoronic death defying almost stereo which is best listened to with the balance adjusted and with a home system such as EARS.
what happens to all that poetry?
all that remains unfinished or unread
or never yet begun?
are they catalogued in the library of morpheus
and filed in piles
one by one?
what happens to those poems we reject?
all those furious romantic moments
deigned too mawkish to protect
too angsty to connect
with a rhyme scheme so obvious
we let it fall into neglect
( Read more... )
When asked "And how is it going?" he replied, rubbing his hands together as he did so, "Oh it's very nice but also very cold! Verrrry cold!"
So cold, in fact, that he was going to the Winter Palace to find out why.
The Winter Palace, as it transpired, was ruled by King Edward the George.
("What's a George?" I asked. "Don't be silly!" was the answer.)
When the elephant arrived, King Edward was just talking to his servants - all of whom were complaining of the cold. But the loudest complaint by far was coming from a tall Viking warrior (and fierce!) called Neizel Van Wingful III. The Viking was understandably upset because in the middle of his wedding service Betty, his beloved bride to be, had frozen on the spot and was now just an ice cube!
( Read more... )
Time, one is wont to note, flies when you’re having fun. Is it nearly a year since last Xmas already? The answer of course is “yes!” Well didn’t that just fly by? The answer of course is “dear God no.”
Actually, the movement of time is a strange thing, time is a vari-speed creature; it seems to crawl with painful slowness through the days and weeks and months but a whole year can evaporate in a flash. Last Xmas does feel like only yesterday, even if April or July or even October appear, in comparison, to be many more light years distant.
All of which is by way of ruminative introduction to this annual round-up and review of the year and its loose ends. At least those that concern me and my small coterie - I say small, but in this weather my coterie is actually quite large and fleece lined and I am very grateful for it!
Of course winter with its short days and long nights encourages melancholy - and the earlier months which one may have greeted with enthusiasm naturally fade into the distance. The road from there to here (or I should say ‘now’) may have been Long and Winding (as the song says) but it has also been bastard bumpy and it is with mixed feelings that one scans back along the highway of life and notes the achievement of making it thus far across such difficult terrain.
In doing so, I must (albeit without enthusiasm) turn to that subject currently gripping the country like a hard frost. I refer of course to the controversy surrounding my very good friend and loyal companion, colleague, entrepreneur, adventurer and all round hamster, St-John. The time has come for me to put down the simple facts of the case but more than that to admit my own responsibility in this embarrassing affair. An affair that has, in my opinion, been given far more coverage than necessary in order to distract the public from other revelatory events of real concern - such as the shocking arrest in the Houses of Parliament of a woman discovered to be spying for FIFA.( Read more... )
How to write a Diary:
It is a common belief, and false, that constructing a diary, that is to say writing, by which I mean – writing, is an awkward activity, an art form not for the timorous but only the bravely self regarding and unselfconscious.
This fallacy of the multitude needs to be put to bath – and swiftly, it is for this reason that I have gladly accepted the request to provide some common sense advice to approaching the task. I am sure that the attentive reader will find these guidelines useful and, after rehearsing them at leisure, that they will therefore discover a new ease and pride in their own creation, and that the act of authoring a diary will become nothing less than that, by which I mean, an act of authoring, by which I mean writing.( Read more... )
this was compiled for a friend's blog - but (typical me) didn't fit the brief. So.... here it is instead (and covering some familiar ground i'm afraid) seven days in the week of wytch.
Stop Dave stop…
My mind is going – stop Dave…
Quite when I became one of those absentminded harassed looking types who have to lock, re-open, relock, re-open and check and counter check the situation of doors, possessions, windows, I don’t rightly know (your honour).
It seems to be a work thing. I swear I’m never that befuddled at home… maybe I have responsibility issues. Damn, I was hoping the power (over the building at least) would go to my head (see below). But no, I am obviously a child. (wails).
Hey ho, I’m sure my darting lurching scarecrow of a figure will be amusing some random observers anyway – and I like to spread a little happiness, a little mirth.
Bumped into John. He’s a sharp dressed man for sure. Reminded me about the diary/blog. Gulp!!!( Read more... )
so it's Beltane and time for a catch up methinks. (Yes, Bean, fantastic text timing there m'dear)
so... it's Beltane and time to spread the love and, uh, spread the lurgy since i am in fact full of both.
Yes, thank you V. (love them sisters).
anyhoo, here are a few rambling and magic elements of stuff.
Oh, plus Nuns (for Rouka and Sidherian, you may want to skip to that bit further down).
( Read more... )
Love and thanks to Julie 0 without whom this piece... etc etc.
“The problem with autobiography is it sounds like having a wank.”
My friend squinted at me across the café table, his fingers slipping a little on its sheeny plastic surface as he pushed himself back away slightly. “This isn’t an interview you know” he said, “I’m not here for the pleasure of your sound bites.”
( Read more... )
The Abbey was secluded, lodged in the heart of a moat and with the edges of the circling English woods on one side and high forbidding hills on the other. There were many rooms, restful and candle lit. There was the sound of a slow bell and prayerful singing.
( Read more... )
Two re-worked folk songs on a theme:
The Handsome Kitchen Boy:
It's of a married Lady as you must understand
She slipped from court to follow
Her true love through the land
She dressed herself in peasant rags
Or so it does appear
To work as a squire and kitchen boy
And serve well for a year
With fingers pale and delicate
And hair all in a curl
The others often smiled and said
"He looks just like a girl!"
( Read more... )
And a farewell to Francais, Franglais, Denglish - call it what you will...
i have been stumbling onto some interesting material recently, just following my interest in language and music.
Anyone that knows me well will be aware of my fascination with language (i have a profound love/hate relationship with Semiology*!) and also with the work of Wittgenstein (blows kiss to Melissa) who posited that there could be no such thing as a private language.
Private language? Think Tina Turner singing; "I'm your Private -"