Quatermass and the Pit plot appears to be substantially true. Nation to commence hopping, genocide, attaching HT to tower cranes.

Stroke-like lesions in the brains of migraine sufferers you say? Good heavens. The very idea. Etc. LSD made available for those affected? More chance of growing one.

You ever get to that state where there are far too many half-formed thoughts steaming around in your head like bricks in a spin-dryer, and you're waiting for the first one to come leaping out the front in a hail of glass shards and builder's rubble ( Read more... )

Being the first day of the year when one can beetle home from work in the light.

(Later than previous. There was a weekend and my way home is all a bit multi-modal these days.)

( Bath. River bank, gasometer, box girder bridge, part-redeveloped industrial wasteland where they used to make all the dock-cranes in the world, distant spire. )

Since it's January, the media pseudopod of Global Corporate Headquarters has withdrawn the sub-appendage concerned with trying to sell us expensive perfume[1] and has extended the one which is busily selling cheap holidays in other people's misery ( Read more... )

( The previous incarnations)

All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering and no sun makes John a dull boy. All mithering ( Read more... )

I need a kite icon ( Read more... )

1) Gaffer-tape camera to kite line.

2) Some wind things.

3) Profit!That was jolly good fun. The mystery kite turns out to have been designed by a colourblind Mexican on acid and have rather too many spars. This means it's disturbingly quiet but tends to fall out of the sky at inopportune moments ( Read more... )

• Lock a set of people from all over the place into a small air-conditioned room for the thick end of a week and The Lurgi will spread. Thus we find that the JHR is both thick and snotty. Bugger. We also find that the inside of the (Nat West) Tower/42 is tiny and that if you're in the bogs, the high-speed lifts sound like passing tube trains. That ( Read more... )

miss-soap called it last week, but things move slower out here on the western edge.

Later than last year, earlier than the year before. It's all good.