Cor cripes. Felt like I'd wandered out of a DC Thompson comic earlier as I walked back from the chippy with the bag of chips stuffed down my jacket to keep it and I warm. Crivens, etc.

Not long after I worked out that my life displays the sort of timing usually reserved for BBC sitcoms set in suburbia - not so much 'bad timing' as 'bloody hell the timing on that's so knackered I'm surprised it runs at all' - I, er, actually no I didn't ( Read more... )

There's something particularly gleeful, educated and terribly Scottish about this splendid item. I am reminded of the chap with the camcorder dealing with the polis at the Tower of London (somewhere on the Youtubes), and indeed of Drew-who-does-not-LJ ( Read more... )

It just reads 'tnemtnioppasid' in the mirror.

Word-rate down[1] lo the past couple of days, which I'd not been jabbering about for reasons of expectation management. On the other hand, it was tricky relationship stuff. It's relatively easy writing the rivets as they fly past in steam-technicolour. People? Somewhat less easy to blag.

Damn.

The ( Read more... )

Maslow's heirarchy of tea: The mental calculation involved in working out the most efficient beverage distribution plan when it's your turn to brew up.

Corporeal punishment: Having to be somewhere you'd rather not ( Read more... )

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