My mum taught me how to do magic. When I was still at infant school she showed me how to take a long strand of wool and, with two magic wands, turn it into a flat piece of cloth. She didn't call it magic, of course, but that's what it was. Right up until you finish off the last stitch, a piece of knitting is still topologically the same as the ( Read more... )

Earlier today I read on my Friends Page the following tantalising statement:

I have just been dubbed "The fastest librarian in Oxford" by one of my readers

Even worse, the post was titled There should be a Benny Hill song

( Never one to resist the challenge of a parody )

Inspired by reverendjim's recent accident detailed here, plus a misspent childhood listening to Stanley Holloway monologues, I present the tale of ( The Sloth and Reverend Jim )

When you're young you might decide this doll is happy, that teddy is grumpy. The Jack of Spades is haughty, the Queen of Diamonds is shy. Thursdays are orangey-brown, Fridays are green. As you grow up you put these thoughts behind you and pretend to be a real adult. You might still feel, deep down, that the Queen of Spades is a stroppy cow, but you ( Read more... )