In which there are sex, thongs, and something funny about socks
- It's that meme again! Take the nearest book, turn to page 45, and read the first sentence... which describes your sex life for the next year: "I should jolly well think not," said Andy, going quite pale at the idea.
- Lolzy church names no. 666: All Saints, Netherthong. And, in case you're wondering, the neighbouring church is St John's, Upperthong.
- Reading, books 2016, 6. 5 books with 1760 standard print pages in 10 days + non-book reading. Then a graphic novel, so I've stopped counting.
4. Oliver's Travels, by Alan Plater, 1994, is a novel that was also a television series, 1995, which I haven't seen. I don't know which was written first as Plater worked both ways around. (4/5 very funny)
• Oliver's home had begun life as a miner's cottage in the nineteenth century, when pitmen were comrades, capitalists were hyenas and forelocks were tugged only at gunpoint with the arrival of the militia. At its peak the cottage had housed a collier, his wife and six children, a disabled father, a strike committee and two whippets. It was ideal for a middle-aged academic living alone.
• He remembered the quality of her face. It had lines and wrinkles that said: we have worked our passage and have a right to be here.
• The bedsitter had been inhabited by a succession of students and was a messy history of good causes bravely fought and generally lost, from the Peterloo Massacre to the Miners' Strike. It was the sort of room that looks like it's been burgled when it hasn't. The floor was knee-deep in empty beer cans, last year's newspapers, forgotten garments and old regrets.
• The duty sergeant opened the report book. He was a large man who looked as if he had been quarried, ready-made, from one of the harsher rock-faces in the principality. [...] The sergeant led Oliver through a door, along a short corridor and into a sparsely furnished interview room. There he left him, with the self-satisfied demeanour of a man dropping an unwanted item at a recycling centre.
• It [the shopping precinct] was used by traffic as a short-cut, by drunks as a lavatory, by the homeless as a dormitory, and by social critics as a metaphor.
• She wore the uniform of the Bonny Wee Dram motel chain: a cream blouse with matching skirt and beret in a specially commissioned tartan - the Clan Basildon according to the staff. They had refused to wear the sporran on the basis that, if people were supposed to wear their pubic hair on the outside, clothes would have been designed with suitable apertures from the beginning.
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- Lolzy church names no. 666: All Saints, Netherthong. And, in case you're wondering, the neighbouring church is St John's, Upperthong.
- Reading, books 2016, 6. 5 books with 1760 standard print pages in 10 days + non-book reading. Then a graphic novel, so I've stopped counting.
4. Oliver's Travels, by Alan Plater, 1994, is a novel that was also a television series, 1995, which I haven't seen. I don't know which was written first as Plater worked both ways around. (4/5 very funny)
• Oliver's home had begun life as a miner's cottage in the nineteenth century, when pitmen were comrades, capitalists were hyenas and forelocks were tugged only at gunpoint with the arrival of the militia. At its peak the cottage had housed a collier, his wife and six children, a disabled father, a strike committee and two whippets. It was ideal for a middle-aged academic living alone.
• He remembered the quality of her face. It had lines and wrinkles that said: we have worked our passage and have a right to be here.
• The bedsitter had been inhabited by a succession of students and was a messy history of good causes bravely fought and generally lost, from the Peterloo Massacre to the Miners' Strike. It was the sort of room that looks like it's been burgled when it hasn't. The floor was knee-deep in empty beer cans, last year's newspapers, forgotten garments and old regrets.
• The duty sergeant opened the report book. He was a large man who looked as if he had been quarried, ready-made, from one of the harsher rock-faces in the principality. [...] The sergeant led Oliver through a door, along a short corridor and into a sparsely furnished interview room. There he left him, with the self-satisfied demeanour of a man dropping an unwanted item at a recycling centre.
• It [the shopping precinct] was used by traffic as a short-cut, by drunks as a lavatory, by the homeless as a dormitory, and by social critics as a metaphor.
• She wore the uniform of the Bonny Wee Dram motel chain: a cream blouse with matching skirt and beret in a specially commissioned tartan - the Clan Basildon according to the staff. They had refused to wear the sporran on the basis that, if people were supposed to wear their pubic hair on the outside, clothes would have been designed with suitable apertures from the beginning.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/565284.html and has
comments Please comment there using OpenID.