If there's one thing I remember well about my six-month stay in southern England in '03 it was the copious splodges of dried 'claret' decorating footpaths of a Sunday morning. The luscious crimson bespoke horror fisticuffs the night before, the sites of fights themselves never too far from a pub - but then there were 9 pubs or so* catering to this ( Read more... )

Well, since posting that incredibly attractive animated glitter-pic of an Irish Snoopy, which I'm not going to remove because I love (some) glittery animation (I don't know why!) and I adore Monsieur Snoopy, I've come to learn what St Patrick was all about. If "driving the snakes out of Ireland" is a particularly obfuscatory euphemism for ( Read more... )

My post today comes courtesy of a comment I left on vidaliasparkle's LJ re her father going to Iran. I've been talking her ear (eye?) off, so now please allow me to do it to you too, dear reader.You know, I once had this Iranian friend and we got on like a house on fire, but then we had the most stupid falling-out (we never really defined what happened - it was ( Read more... )