Days of sun

It's three degrees celsius, clouds are dissipating and i'm feeling rather unwell.  I know i'm feeling unwell, as there's a strange nimbus of happiness coursing through me. 

Luckily that usually presages the descent of some horrible calamity, so i'll wait a few hours, to see what it is - the apocalypse would be nice but can't have everything - if it's more happiness, i'll be even more upset.

Now, where's that 110 spf sun cream...

Changes

This is the 502nd rambling post of sorts, and i must admit to being surprised at popping stuff past single figures, let alone 500 of them.  Okay, if i remove all those posts that are just of pictures, videos, or one-liners, or some other criteria that might make a post somewhat paratactically meaningful - somewhere along the lines of "i will read this; god i wish i couldn't read, i believe my head might implode!" then i'm still in double figures - low double figures.  Nevertheless it's gone past the two hand stage, i haven't being sued, and there's still so much nonsense within and without that needs a good pricking.  I breath a somewhat hearty refrain of relief.

Unfortunately i made the rash decision a few months ago of looking through previous entries (ones earlier than 2011), to find to my horror that changing the  layout had skewed, and made painfully unreadable, some of the earlier posts of indeterminate length.

So all new non--suffering readers stumbling across this little corner of the interwebbingtubes, you've been saved a horrid experience.  I know i should go back and nicely re-align everything - whilst being relatively semi-cross at google - but i haven't yet reached the stage where i want to sit down and re-check hundreds of posts, over say, hunting for the ladybird i saw scuttling around on a window frame last week, or the caterpillar i saw clambering up a plug two days ago - despite it still being winter.

But as i get ready to hit another period of semi-hermitisation (after such a shoddy winter here), perhaps my mood will cheerfully rise; as in less than 10 months time and the end/change/something possibly happening event creeping up, or not, on to the world, i'll no longer need to fret about filling another 500.  

David cameron professes to  give scotlanders more power if they reject going independent.  

When did the david become the all-powerful-all-seeing-all-everything?  I say that as i presume (without devoting anything more than a quarter of my functional cell to the task) that if scotland do go their merry independent way, so not having to put up with the nonsense emanating from whitehall, their ability to have as much power as they can happily gorge on, regardless of what the silly southern sasanacs might say, will be more or less dependent on them.

It's like telling a child (this is an analogy so no comments), that if they don't vote to have the entire shop given to them, they might just (if we feel like it) give them one or two of the sweets.  But only if they keep the status quo.

Perhaps there's something really important i've missed whilst only skimming the headlines.

Periodic trumpet puritanicalness

This was going to be a long worded post of griping, whining and all things curmudgeonly pedantic. 

However serendipity decided otherwise, as the interwebbedtube thingy squirted stuff through the connection whilst watching a documentary on beebs iplayer about the dearth of out gay players in the uks football leagues.  One of the songs used in that documentary caught me in an unguarded moment, and caused a slight melt to occur in my icy carapace.

Rizzle kicks - down with the trumpets...

Watering other people gardens

I was minding my own business - which i do on a regular basis - when i heard what sounded like, well actually it was, high screeches, laughter and hysterical screeches from outside.  The entertainment venue was having another do and people were either queuing or walking towards the entrance.

After five minutes of this continual screeching i decided to investigate.  On the one side there was nothing but the passing of cars and people walking down, but i could still hear the hysterics, so popped into the other room and opened the curtain.

I'm not sure who was surprised, the one girl who was taking a picture of another girl who was posing, or after a quick shout from the blond-haired girl taking the picture on her mobile, their other female friend who scurried from the gap still pulling up her skirt - no doubt relieving herself underneath windows before entering the venue.

Before you say i'm being preposterous, let me re-assure you, i really wish i was.  There is no security from the venue checking, and i don't often feel in the mood to sit or stand by the window to take make note.  But this wasn't the first time.  On another occasion a whole group (five if memory serves me correctly) had popped over the wall and only done a runner when i tapped by the window with camera in hand, or another time in broad daylight when two guys peed by the neighbours window. 

Of course my thoughts turn to electrified panels, or fences.  I'm sure they would neither like nor enjoy someone peeing by their windows on a regular or any basis. Can't even hibernate in peace.

I have the power

I'm not sure quite how i came across hard creations - i have the power clip on youtube.  But it's a curious combination, the daleks & the beloved leader - yes ms margaret thatcher, to the beat of... i'm not really sure.  Listen at least twice to let it wash over you.

With lines like: "You turn if you want to, the lady's not for turning... I move by psycho-kinetic power... there is no-such thing as society.."  Why wouldn't you want to listen to all those memorable words all over again - even if it was from a few years ago.  

And for those who weren't able to participate the first time round, just wait until the current crop finish!

Well it was monday, and a very happy chinese new year.

Gripping noise

I was gripped, focused like a slightly wavering laser on lisa jardines point of view: volume control, the other day broadcast on bbc radio 4.

Gripped!

As she spell-blindingly weaved the horror (my interpretation) people are subjected to in growing urban islands by the incessant ever-increasing noise, which is taking place on a daily basis.  Wonder what she'd make of this particular noise hole and tfls & lambeth councils recalcitrance (from empirical evidence) in reducing it?

Gripped!

Until the end.  When she basically said things will only get worse, so we'll all "have to develop our own personal self protective strategies for dealing with it.  Like improving our powers of concentration!"

Concentration?

I quickly filed through my back catalogue of half-penned, on the wobbly drawing-board need more angst before they'll ever see the light of day finishing ideas pile, and alighted on the personal emp portable generated user field - otherwise known as pepguf ^TM - simply gathering dust, whilst managing to glare back at me seethingly.

Yes, that would bring a brief respite of quiet noise crashing down on the area.  Might even create one more day (however briefly) in the year, when silence, or a suitable simulacrum thereof, can once again reign supreme.