You know when you wake up after a fairly wild night and realise that you’ve said something that you really know you’re going to regret? In my case it was announcing - before knowledgeable witnesses - that I would learn Ferneyhough’s Cassandra’s Dream Song by the end of the year. I now have to follow through, so it sits reproachfully beside my desk…
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Just in case you want a closer look (all right, I just wanted to get post #1111 !)
It doesn’t look quite so bad through the gin glass…
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Thank you joe. NIghtmares now assured, of the wandering round WH Smiths in just one’s blouse/shirt & tie to buy pens for the exam for which one has not only not revised but didn’t expect to be sitting in the first place, such as history when one opted for geog, and so on variety…
Eeeeek (diminuendo) and then ginuendo molto con vivace*, I think. gx
*although it was that kind of thing wot got you up this particular tree in the first place, I do see. But then I suspect that you will achieve it - sympathies and encouraging thorts to a poor suffering bastart meanwhile.
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Good Morning all,
Now you see…
That’s just showing-off. Nobody needs all of those lines and symbols, to make a racket like that.
Now this on the other hand.
The bloke bangimg the keys here, doesn’t even have any music.
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Yardarm and just a large bucketful of something restorative for me please.
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Lest anyone should think that extended techniques are the preserve of the avant garde…
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Oh good, someone’s called a yardarm. I need a small something to cope with that music.
gahhhhhhh, Gus? Anything we can help with?
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Not really, but thank you for the thought. And yardaaarms are very helpful in themselves.
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That must have bin (ew) a fragrant meeting…
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When visiting Barra I found that the various Border Collies had the island divided into personal territories. Wherever I walked, an amiable doggy trotted along beside me. At one place, where I presume there was a territorial dispute, doggy went along for ten yards or so in the ditch. At another, a bitch bounded out with half a dozen puppies, and when I’d made a fuss of them and told her how clever she was, she took them in again. Now I come to think of it, this was probably a roadside sales pitch.
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I wouldn’t want a border collie unless I had some work for it to do. If they start rounding up the local schoolchildren it can be embarrassing.
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Could be a new sporting event for BBC2?
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Barra… “A wild and lonely place.You understand.”
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And tiresome. What would one want with a load of schoolchildren? They can’t be either sheared or legally sent to the abbatoir, after all.
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And they make such a noise when their ankles are nipped.
I am actually thinking of an unemployed border collie I once knew who lived in a house with a communal garden (a slice of Cornwallis Crescent, for the Bristolians among us) and used to round up children it found in that garden and pen them in the undercroft between the terrace you got access to from the first floor, and the house-terrace. Their mothers used to get all agitated.
We once found a size small pair of purple y-fronts in the bushes there, and wondered whether the dog had Gone Too Far This Time.
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I imagine they might have been hung there to dry, surreptitious like. That was one good, conscientious dog. ‘Gissa job!’, bless its determined canine heart.
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They could be sold to a sweep. The man thought to have been the original of the sweep in ‘The Water Babies’ ended up as Alderman (at that time and in that place the equivalent of Mayor) of the Town of Wokingham. Round 'em up, doggy, Fagin will be along shortly, that’s a cut above sweeps.
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“Attract a Sucker,” it could be called. I was walking along trying not to make inappropriate remarks one day when a border collie I hadn’t met before, being walked on the opposite pavement, went down flat (as they do) and refused to move until I’d crossed the road to see him, whereupon he rolled over to have his tummy tickled. The next time I saw him, he whimpered until I came to fuss him. Gurt softy! x
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A place in which it was very hard to remain sober. The local priest, asked by a friend of mine what they did in the winter, replied: “We converse”. One day, on the neighbouring island of Vatersay, a young bull tried telling me I was on his territory, raking his feet with his head down and so on. A door opened in a nearby house, an old lady appeared with a rolled-up newspaper and hit him on the nose with it. He turned and ran off. She turned and invited me to the ceilidh the next evening.
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Love it, Aisling
My Late Mother had a border collie, brought from Ireland in a motorbike pannier
I was furious that my Father ( also now Late) & the Irish Rellies, had colluded in bringing a tiny pup on a long journey to a woman struggling with MS who fell over at the drop of a hat
How wrong I was
The 2 of them formed a deep & lasting bond & appeared to look after each other…
Carinthia.xx
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