Well, not the songs, since Fred Archer was 'more popular' in our house than Elvis. I say 'more popular'. I mean 'About as popular as foot-and-mouth'. So that would be something from the sixties that people didn't talk about much, apart from when they'd point at the far end of the field known as 'The Deerpark'[1] which was up the hill from the ( Read more... )

It feels oddly decadent to have a fridge that was made in the C21st (CE), rather than some gurgling relic of empire. It's as if I should be keeping the sort of brightly coloured putty-like grub they scoffed on Discovery One (when not jogging or arguing with HAL) in the thing.

Internet-based serendipity: This turned up (andrewducker again) while I had this ( Read more... )

It would be wrong for me to have combined stargazing on a clear night and dancing down the middle of the street to Elvis, wouldn't it?

I mean, because it's a bit too late in the day for me to start doing anything right. Right?

(Air guitar to 'Kerosene' through the centre of Bristol's probably right out, too...)

You know what's odd? I started this LJ business mostly with the intention of trying to remember bits of the past, then writing them down so I'd have a record other than 'Had a couple of scoops, talked some shite, middling hangover ( Read more... )

For reasons of carelessness described below, I've just had to perform my ablutions while wearing a rubber glove.

It was nowhere near as much fun as one might imagine. In fact, the only thing going through my head (other than 'that was the wrong hand with which to make a dive for the bathplug') was 'This is the sort of thing that steer would do ( Read more... )

I can't say I'm best keen on feeling like this ( Read more... )