Work, right? Filled with things. Many of them falling into the category of 'another fucking opportunity for personal growth', which, um, right. I'd point at my old post about normality and workloads, but whatevs
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I was hoping to be at that BristolCon event right up to the point where I realised I'd been falling asleep at my desk all afternoon and was really coming down with something quite nasty and I should go home and fall over forthwith. I'm most annoyed at myself.
Good luck with 'explaining Ivor Cutler'. I tried 'explaining Ivor Cutler' to Dave and, to be honest, it's a mercy we didn't wind up in marriage guidance.
To be fair, I probably shouldn't have started with 'My father once had sex with a Polar Bear...'.
I would have hoped for slightly better from the target audience, but they were all classical types, so John Peel was going to be hard to explain anyway.
The sensible thing would have been to provide a demonstration, but that would have required that I was actually Ivor Cutler.
An incinerator? Do you mean one of those things that looks like a dustbin with a chimney on the lid? If you do, I had one once. It was christened the "burny bin" and lasted for about half of one Burning Things party before it gave up the ghost. These days I don't bother, favouring the area-bombing-scorched-earth approach to biomass disposal.
While I was hacking up bits of shrub to stuff into the thing, I did recall that when I was much younger and lived in a proper house (ie - one with a woodshed, workshop, dairy and dutch barn) I would have just set light to the pile and let it get on with it.
However, the splendid nemesis-to-go of this parish is given to sharing pictures of the fence and garage fires when people in his street have tried that, and they've got more 'garden' than I. That is when he's not demonstrating that the previous owner of his Series II was a useless sod.
I've had a few occasions of having to use the hose to stop the fence catching fire - but that just adds to the whole bonfire experience. It also worries the neighbours, which is an added bonus...
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To be fair, I probably shouldn't have started with 'My father once had sex with a Polar Bear...'.
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The sensible thing would have been to provide a demonstration, but that would have required that I was actually Ivor Cutler.
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However, the splendid nemesis-to-go of this parish is given to sharing pictures of the fence and garage fires when people in his street have tried that, and they've got more 'garden' than I. That is when he's not demonstrating that the previous owner of his Series II was a useless sod.
In short, I should move house.
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