I meant to add at the bottom of the last post, it came from a cartoon that should be found at www.nearingzero.net I've lost it but I'm sure it is still there. If it isn't, there are plenty that are.
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Dinosaurs and Marshmellows
Everyone knows that the dinosaurs died out because of a meteor that landed in the Yucatan, right?
Wrong. The dinosaurs died out because of food problems. What food problems? Marshmallows.
The dinosaurs, when they first started out, ate meat, plants, sometimes a bit of both. Then they got clever. They invented technology, buildings. They went environmentally friendly. And therein lie their downfall. For the more advanced a society gets, the less evidence of themselves they leave. This is why the paleontologists haven't figured it out yet: no evidence. None whatsoever.
Anyway, back to the marshmallows- the dinosaurs made a planet-wide treaty to respect one's fellow dinosaur and the environment. So they did. they found a special mind altering substance that, due to their specific physiology, made them think they were eating the thing they loved most. And this drug provided them with all the necessary nutrients and antibiotics and so forth.
This amazing drug is called the marsh-1,3- diol where the marsh had many different functional groups. Because it was derived from the photosynthetic pigments of the Mallow plants, it soon became known as marsh mallow. The photosynthetic pigments by the way, is the reason for the dinosaurs being green (it's not easy being green!) Eventually, use of marshmallow led to dinosaurs being able to photosynthesize.
But they got hooked. Completely addicted. The scientists hadn't realised that it was a pan species trait. So they went and ate more and more marshmallow. Eventually, some dinosaurs modified their genes, leading to their offspring being able to breathe fire (the dragons of myth).
This gave these dragons an evolutionary advantage over the other dinosaurs. Eventually, however,- due to the fact that everything, if it is loved by enough people in one spot - (take tea in England) Something strange happened. The marshmallow achieved sentience.
By this point, The dinosaurs were so hooked they didn't care. So they carried on hunting the marshmallows. And the Marshmallows, as all good underdog species will (read any scifi aliens-invade-tech-inferior-earth to find out) fought back. And eventually they got so good at it that one by one, the dinosaurs died. Except for the dragons. Being able to breathe fire meant that they were able to hold the marshmallow off. and they found, oddly enough, the marshmallows actually taste better lightly toasted. This meant that the dragons were able to survive until people evolved and were able to tell stories about them that turned into the myths we have today.
Eventually though, even the dragons died out.
And it is thought , by those in the know that the marshmallows, deprived of their natural enemy and their OWN food source died out as well. Before this happened however, a dead marshmallow was found by a young lad in ancient Egypt, and he figured out a way to replicate a none- sentient version of them. However, there are other who believe, that on occasion a poor supermarket worker is unpacking a crate of marshmallows and mysteriously disappears...
Wrong. The dinosaurs died out because of food problems. What food problems? Marshmallows.
The dinosaurs, when they first started out, ate meat, plants, sometimes a bit of both. Then they got clever. They invented technology, buildings. They went environmentally friendly. And therein lie their downfall. For the more advanced a society gets, the less evidence of themselves they leave. This is why the paleontologists haven't figured it out yet: no evidence. None whatsoever.
Anyway, back to the marshmallows- the dinosaurs made a planet-wide treaty to respect one's fellow dinosaur and the environment. So they did. they found a special mind altering substance that, due to their specific physiology, made them think they were eating the thing they loved most. And this drug provided them with all the necessary nutrients and antibiotics and so forth.
This amazing drug is called the marsh-1,3- diol where the marsh had many different functional groups. Because it was derived from the photosynthetic pigments of the Mallow plants, it soon became known as marsh mallow. The photosynthetic pigments by the way, is the reason for the dinosaurs being green (it's not easy being green!) Eventually, use of marshmallow led to dinosaurs being able to photosynthesize.
But they got hooked. Completely addicted. The scientists hadn't realised that it was a pan species trait. So they went and ate more and more marshmallow. Eventually, some dinosaurs modified their genes, leading to their offspring being able to breathe fire (the dragons of myth).
This gave these dragons an evolutionary advantage over the other dinosaurs. Eventually, however,- due to the fact that everything, if it is loved by enough people in one spot - (take tea in England) Something strange happened. The marshmallow achieved sentience.
By this point, The dinosaurs were so hooked they didn't care. So they carried on hunting the marshmallows. And the Marshmallows, as all good underdog species will (read any scifi aliens-invade-tech-inferior-earth to find out) fought back. And eventually they got so good at it that one by one, the dinosaurs died. Except for the dragons. Being able to breathe fire meant that they were able to hold the marshmallow off. and they found, oddly enough, the marshmallows actually taste better lightly toasted. This meant that the dragons were able to survive until people evolved and were able to tell stories about them that turned into the myths we have today.
Eventually though, even the dragons died out.
And it is thought , by those in the know that the marshmallows, deprived of their natural enemy and their OWN food source died out as well. Before this happened however, a dead marshmallow was found by a young lad in ancient Egypt, and he figured out a way to replicate a none- sentient version of them. However, there are other who believe, that on occasion a poor supermarket worker is unpacking a crate of marshmallows and mysteriously disappears...
Sunday, 30 November 2008
'pologies and soup
I've realised, I've been rather remiss in posting recently: My last post was over a fortnight ago. And I have also realised that I have missed it a little. So thats the apologies bit of the title. As for the soup bit...
I have come to the realisation that our oven needs replacing. Badly. Most of my flatmates have gone home this weekend, leaving me and one other to cook for two. Yes. Of course. And it is doable. I used to do it all the time when it was just me and my father. Apparently now I can't.
We decided that on Friday night we would do a chicken and lentil hotpot, and that it would be nice. So we did all the prep, put in maybe a FEW more lentils than we were meant to and put it in the oven for the half hour it said to. We took it out and the vegetables weren't cooked. you needed a hard surface under them to even get the fork to consider stabbing it. so we put it in again for another half an hour, looking at each other, nodding and saying yep. defenatly need to precook the veg next time. And the lentils. Even if it doesn't say to. Half an hour later again, and we took it out. the veg was a little more squishy, but the lentils were crunchy, and lentils are not meant to be crunchy.
So we sat down and tried to eat it. The chicken was nice. And cooked as well. the rest got sent back to the pot, and the pot got put on the hob and cooked. And it looked so much like soup that well, it became soup. Unfortunately, we had to keep adding stock to the lentils could cook, so from a meal that was big for two people, we had something big enough for eleven. Literally. Eleven big bowls of soup we had. A few emergency phonecalls later, and we ate most of it. (by the way, thanks for coming round) But there is still some left in the fridge. so yesterday, we invaded the flat next door. The fish came out all right. They have a shiny new oven. Here's hoping one arrives for us.
But seriously, what really took the biscuit was that we put some pease pudding in as well. An hour it should of taken. Lucky we forgot about it. Over four hours later, and it was only just done.
Sorry about the griping. It is actually fairly amusing now I think on it. At least the kitchen is clean.
I have come to the realisation that our oven needs replacing. Badly. Most of my flatmates have gone home this weekend, leaving me and one other to cook for two. Yes. Of course. And it is doable. I used to do it all the time when it was just me and my father. Apparently now I can't.
We decided that on Friday night we would do a chicken and lentil hotpot, and that it would be nice. So we did all the prep, put in maybe a FEW more lentils than we were meant to and put it in the oven for the half hour it said to. We took it out and the vegetables weren't cooked. you needed a hard surface under them to even get the fork to consider stabbing it. so we put it in again for another half an hour, looking at each other, nodding and saying yep. defenatly need to precook the veg next time. And the lentils. Even if it doesn't say to. Half an hour later again, and we took it out. the veg was a little more squishy, but the lentils were crunchy, and lentils are not meant to be crunchy.
So we sat down and tried to eat it. The chicken was nice. And cooked as well. the rest got sent back to the pot, and the pot got put on the hob and cooked. And it looked so much like soup that well, it became soup. Unfortunately, we had to keep adding stock to the lentils could cook, so from a meal that was big for two people, we had something big enough for eleven. Literally. Eleven big bowls of soup we had. A few emergency phonecalls later, and we ate most of it. (by the way, thanks for coming round) But there is still some left in the fridge. so yesterday, we invaded the flat next door. The fish came out all right. They have a shiny new oven. Here's hoping one arrives for us.
But seriously, what really took the biscuit was that we put some pease pudding in as well. An hour it should of taken. Lucky we forgot about it. Over four hours later, and it was only just done.
Sorry about the griping. It is actually fairly amusing now I think on it. At least the kitchen is clean.
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
Remembering Sunday
This last Sunday was Remembrance Sunday. When you were little did you turn on the telly hoping for the cartoons, and catch the parade? All those people, in uniforms. So many in wheelchairs or using sticks and crutches. So many old people in uniform. And they all look proud to be there. Proud, and somehow guilty. And the woman, whose medals were always on the other side of the chest to most of the men.
Now I'm older I realise that parades like that, they are proud to be there. Proud and happy that they are being remembered. And even more that the people who can't be there were being remembered. And thats where the guilty comes in as well. The fact that they are there and their friends weren't. Why were they spared? in some cases, some may well be thinking why wasn't I? And the woman, and the sons, with the medals on the other side of their chest, walking in a dead man's shoes. They shouldn't be there. their husbands, fathers brothers. They should be there.
But they aren't. They are the folk who were buried with all honours. Or those who have a cross because there wasn't enough bits to find to bury "missing presumed dead".
"And their words echo back from the graveyards of Flanders, singing old Jack Judge's song."
And now it has come back into the spotlight. War I mean. Irak, and now Afghanistan. As the adverts say, every day is remembrance day for some families. This has always been the case, but now it is more noticeable perhaps. because now it is our generation who are dying, and being remembered. There are now so many more people who buy a poppy, and actually stop and think about what it means, what it represents.
When we were kids, poppy day, remembrance day was history. part of that rich tapestry that so many people don't understand, and in some cases actively resent. People forget that their grandparents were once twenty, thirty years old. That they served in the war. The males in my father's side of the family have a history of military service. But my grandmother and her sisters - they helped as well. Land girls, Plotters under the hills of Portsmouth, Ambulance drivers. they all did their part for their country, and did it proudly. They wanted desperately to help any way they could. And their parents, they had been through it all once before, in the first world war. Our parents had the troubles. The IRA, Ireland. "In a station, in a city, a British soldier stood" According to my father Harvey Andrews captured Ireland during the troubles in that song. He said that the first time he had made pretty much anyone listen to it the first time, it moved them to tears.
We don't have that. We don't have the experiences of our parents, our grandparents. And we can't imagine what it must be like. And deep inside, whilst I rage against our shallowness sometimes I'm glad that we probably never will. Because I'm not entirely sure how I would cope, how I would stand up to the legacy that that parade has left for all of us. So I will wear my poppy and try to understand what it must really be like for the people who were there.
Now I'm older I realise that parades like that, they are proud to be there. Proud and happy that they are being remembered. And even more that the people who can't be there were being remembered. And thats where the guilty comes in as well. The fact that they are there and their friends weren't. Why were they spared? in some cases, some may well be thinking why wasn't I? And the woman, and the sons, with the medals on the other side of their chest, walking in a dead man's shoes. They shouldn't be there. their husbands, fathers brothers. They should be there.
But they aren't. They are the folk who were buried with all honours. Or those who have a cross because there wasn't enough bits to find to bury "missing presumed dead".
"And their words echo back from the graveyards of Flanders, singing old Jack Judge's song."
And now it has come back into the spotlight. War I mean. Irak, and now Afghanistan. As the adverts say, every day is remembrance day for some families. This has always been the case, but now it is more noticeable perhaps. because now it is our generation who are dying, and being remembered. There are now so many more people who buy a poppy, and actually stop and think about what it means, what it represents.
When we were kids, poppy day, remembrance day was history. part of that rich tapestry that so many people don't understand, and in some cases actively resent. People forget that their grandparents were once twenty, thirty years old. That they served in the war. The males in my father's side of the family have a history of military service. But my grandmother and her sisters - they helped as well. Land girls, Plotters under the hills of Portsmouth, Ambulance drivers. they all did their part for their country, and did it proudly. They wanted desperately to help any way they could. And their parents, they had been through it all once before, in the first world war. Our parents had the troubles. The IRA, Ireland. "In a station, in a city, a British soldier stood" According to my father Harvey Andrews captured Ireland during the troubles in that song. He said that the first time he had made pretty much anyone listen to it the first time, it moved them to tears.
We don't have that. We don't have the experiences of our parents, our grandparents. And we can't imagine what it must be like. And deep inside, whilst I rage against our shallowness sometimes I'm glad that we probably never will. Because I'm not entirely sure how I would cope, how I would stand up to the legacy that that parade has left for all of us. So I will wear my poppy and try to understand what it must really be like for the people who were there.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Sausages
I do apologise. I had meant to post this in national sausage week. Last week in fact. but I managed to click save as draft rather than post. In my defense (is that s? I thought it was C.) I was rather tired at the time. so here it is. A week late but the 10 20 to sausageland has now arrived...
Have you had your sausages today? For today is national sausage week. Yes. show your support for sausages. Go out! Buy some! And eat them!
We have a lot of very strange festivals out there. Like Bonfire night. As was pointed out by a friend from Denmark today, we are basically celebrating a terrorist. although it is more, now I think of it about the fact that he failed at being a terrorist. And cheese rolling. thats odd. fun, but odd. And then there are the truly fringe ones, like international toilet day. And Welly boot week. now that one is odd. If I remember rightly, it's held in summer...
But truly. What a way to show your support for something you like. I like it therefore I shall eat it. What would happen if we approached everything we liked like that? What would life be like? What about if you had a passion for toxicology? And what about Mothering Sunday? Our mothers wouldn't last past our first birthday. We would all, excepting twins and some very fortunate circumstances be single children. And then, well, where would it end? Father's day? Birthdays? Barring the fact there wold be no humans in short order, we would be eligible as a species for a Darwin Award, I recon one of two things would happen:
1. We would all become Jehovah's Witnesses. Why? No birthdays. Therefore we would have more of a chance for survival.
2. The world would be a very different place.
Well, yes. Of course this last is true. But I think that polygamy would become commonplace. Well, that would make the Mormons happy. Except they wouldn't be Mormons. Or at least, a strange mixture of Mormonism and Jehovah's Witnesses would take over.
But some good would come of it: STIs would be a lot less common. Because, lets face it, girls would be a LOT more careful about things. Kids wouldn't be spoilt rotten, no mothers would mean they would have to do a lot more around the house. And, I suspect that there would be a lot more teachers; people who wanted children but didn't want to die. Also, The world wouldn't get overcrowded because cannibalism would be in full force. One born, one dies. More men than girls then.
This all sound like an horrific world. Not entirely sure it is one I would want to live in.
Remember: A sausage is for life. not just for national sausage week.
But don't let them go mouldy. That's just a waste.
Have you had your sausages today? For today is national sausage week. Yes. show your support for sausages. Go out! Buy some! And eat them!
We have a lot of very strange festivals out there. Like Bonfire night. As was pointed out by a friend from Denmark today, we are basically celebrating a terrorist. although it is more, now I think of it about the fact that he failed at being a terrorist. And cheese rolling. thats odd. fun, but odd. And then there are the truly fringe ones, like international toilet day. And Welly boot week. now that one is odd. If I remember rightly, it's held in summer...
But truly. What a way to show your support for something you like. I like it therefore I shall eat it. What would happen if we approached everything we liked like that? What would life be like? What about if you had a passion for toxicology? And what about Mothering Sunday? Our mothers wouldn't last past our first birthday. We would all, excepting twins and some very fortunate circumstances be single children. And then, well, where would it end? Father's day? Birthdays? Barring the fact there wold be no humans in short order, we would be eligible as a species for a Darwin Award, I recon one of two things would happen:
1. We would all become Jehovah's Witnesses. Why? No birthdays. Therefore we would have more of a chance for survival.
2. The world would be a very different place.
Well, yes. Of course this last is true. But I think that polygamy would become commonplace. Well, that would make the Mormons happy. Except they wouldn't be Mormons. Or at least, a strange mixture of Mormonism and Jehovah's Witnesses would take over.
But some good would come of it: STIs would be a lot less common. Because, lets face it, girls would be a LOT more careful about things. Kids wouldn't be spoilt rotten, no mothers would mean they would have to do a lot more around the house. And, I suspect that there would be a lot more teachers; people who wanted children but didn't want to die. Also, The world wouldn't get overcrowded because cannibalism would be in full force. One born, one dies. More men than girls then.
This all sound like an horrific world. Not entirely sure it is one I would want to live in.
Remember: A sausage is for life. not just for national sausage week.
But don't let them go mouldy. That's just a waste.
Friday, 31 October 2008
generalities
There was going to be a post on apathy before this one. There still might. But I honestly couldn't be bothered to post it. And that is the truth. Not a clever word game. Where is the world coming to?
Anyway, today is a day of bothering about things. And a day of packing. For since I have the next four days off, (thank you timetable god!) I'm headed to Sussex-shire (hmmm. Uni is getting to my head- not every county has a shire in it. Pity. It is a nice word. Sounds nice. Makes a nice sussurus. (sp?) And horses. Shire horses really are the nicest horses going. almost as nice as those shaggy cows with the horns. Now they are lovely!
Back to life now I have sat and thought about cows for a bit. I love listening to conversations. Or hearing people talk about conversations they have with other people. You pick up some real gems. And I don't mean gossip. Some friends of mine were talking about square numbers when I was dozing in between lectures (disaster there. Actually snored IN the lecture. Again. Meh. need more sleep of a Thursday night.) When I heard one friend say to another "Sod square numbers. I like circles!" Well. That gave me a fit of the giggles - as you might imagine (especially if you know me. For those who don't, I have an active sense of humour and I giggle a lot.) Mostly, I must admit, because when people say something like that, it brings to mind some of the more blond things that I have said over the years. And yes. That DOES include the Dorset rainforest episode.
Anyway. Packing. Because, as I said before I got distracted by cows (a legit reason: they were wondering past on tother side of the road) I have the next four days off, I am heading down to Sussex - west, not east - to visit my Nan. So packing. Must remember the computer... Yes indeed. What makes me laugh is that I am having to goto Sussex via London which is normal, and York, which isn't. Leeds being a sight closer and the train from York going through there anyway. Fine. OK. Lets go with it. so far, every time I have gone home or come back up here on the train, something has happened. Like my suitcase falling apart. Literally, and on the underground at that. Cows blocking the line so as my train was cancelled, so I missed my booked connection. Or falling asleep and adding a good hour/ two hours onto my journey time because of it. it will be interesting to see if anything of the like happens between here and Chichester, where Nan lives, and before it has always been between here and Polegate, where I live. I'm starting to get excited now though: I haven't seen any of my family since term started. and didn't think I would be until Christmas. Thank goodness I haven't got an overly heavy workload at this moment in time. Although I will be bringing work with me.
Also. I have just started a very expensive hobby. LARP. Live Action Role-Play. Basically I get to run around on a field with a big sword and hit people with it. A foam sword I hasten to add. Soon to be latexed. I really can't wait for that to really kick off next year when things get a little warmer. It really will be fun.
And as for knitting. Well that really is starting to get on my goat. On my forth pattern for a woolly hat. And this one not going exactly to plan either. rescue remedy: go and talk to Nan about it. She'll know what to do. So that is what I shall do. And on the subject of Circle numbers, does 11 count? because that is a nice number indeed.
NB. Have just noticed: I start an awful lot of sentences with and. That surely isn't good grammar. And don't call me Shirley!
Anyway, today is a day of bothering about things. And a day of packing. For since I have the next four days off, (thank you timetable god!) I'm headed to Sussex-shire (hmmm. Uni is getting to my head- not every county has a shire in it. Pity. It is a nice word. Sounds nice. Makes a nice sussurus. (sp?) And horses. Shire horses really are the nicest horses going. almost as nice as those shaggy cows with the horns. Now they are lovely!
Back to life now I have sat and thought about cows for a bit. I love listening to conversations. Or hearing people talk about conversations they have with other people. You pick up some real gems. And I don't mean gossip. Some friends of mine were talking about square numbers when I was dozing in between lectures (disaster there. Actually snored IN the lecture. Again. Meh. need more sleep of a Thursday night.) When I heard one friend say to another "Sod square numbers. I like circles!" Well. That gave me a fit of the giggles - as you might imagine (especially if you know me. For those who don't, I have an active sense of humour and I giggle a lot.) Mostly, I must admit, because when people say something like that, it brings to mind some of the more blond things that I have said over the years. And yes. That DOES include the Dorset rainforest episode.
Anyway. Packing. Because, as I said before I got distracted by cows (a legit reason: they were wondering past on tother side of the road) I have the next four days off, I am heading down to Sussex - west, not east - to visit my Nan. So packing. Must remember the computer... Yes indeed. What makes me laugh is that I am having to goto Sussex via London which is normal, and York, which isn't. Leeds being a sight closer and the train from York going through there anyway. Fine. OK. Lets go with it. so far, every time I have gone home or come back up here on the train, something has happened. Like my suitcase falling apart. Literally, and on the underground at that. Cows blocking the line so as my train was cancelled, so I missed my booked connection. Or falling asleep and adding a good hour/ two hours onto my journey time because of it. it will be interesting to see if anything of the like happens between here and Chichester, where Nan lives, and before it has always been between here and Polegate, where I live. I'm starting to get excited now though: I haven't seen any of my family since term started. and didn't think I would be until Christmas. Thank goodness I haven't got an overly heavy workload at this moment in time. Although I will be bringing work with me.
Also. I have just started a very expensive hobby. LARP. Live Action Role-Play. Basically I get to run around on a field with a big sword and hit people with it. A foam sword I hasten to add. Soon to be latexed. I really can't wait for that to really kick off next year when things get a little warmer. It really will be fun.
And as for knitting. Well that really is starting to get on my goat. On my forth pattern for a woolly hat. And this one not going exactly to plan either. rescue remedy: go and talk to Nan about it. She'll know what to do. So that is what I shall do. And on the subject of Circle numbers, does 11 count? because that is a nice number indeed.
NB. Have just noticed: I start an awful lot of sentences with and. That surely isn't good grammar. And don't call me Shirley!
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Birthdays
Hya! Sorry about the gap between the posts. I would say I was busy, but to tell the truth, that would be a lie. I haven't been terribly busy at all. (well, not too busy to write a post, at least).
Today is a friend's birthday. And she has come up with the clever idea of adding all the numbers in your age up. So today, she is nine. And all of this year, I am two.
This explains to me why at certain ages, like when people goto university, people's mental ages seem to lower, sometimes dramatically. I know mine did. I came to uni, and I can enjoy far more childish things now than I did. But then I did go from ten to two when I had my twentieth birthday.
Anyway, my friend is having a party this evening. And because it is her ninth birthday, we are having a proper party for her. With Jelly, and ice cream, and cake, and not to mention the trifle. And so, for an evening we shall regress into a childish state and revel in it. Because we all love to be young again, if only for a short while. Why is this? Because it brings back the memories of our childhood. And gives us a chance to be nostalgic.
I writing this and remembering one of my birthdays, I'm not sure which one where I was promised a barbecue by my parents. The day came, and I was all excited about it, and it tipped it down. Absolute buckets it was. So my dad took an umbrella, stood out in the rain, and cooked the meat whilst my friends and I played in the living room. I have often thought that I have an amazing dad, and this pretty much confirms it for me.
I am happy today. Cheerful. Looking forwards to this evening, and I've had a fairly relaxing day. So I sang in the shower. Loudly. I take this opportunity to apologise to my flat mates, should they read this. Why is it that people do this? Why, when a lot of people refuse to sing anywhere else (I am not one of those, by the way.) will they sing in the shower? I personally have no idea. But maybe it is the water. Do I think it makes my voice sound nicer? Maybe it does. Maybe it is the lack of audience. Actually, that last one will probably clench it for a lot of people. But what do people sing? Personally, I've sang quite quite a wide range. from Queen to the Seekers, to Steeleye Span, and on occaision, the odd bit of Bach and Beethoven. Well, hummed. But by far the largest collection of songs that I've sang, both in and out of the shower is WWI and II songs. And I have no idea why. This morning, a friend put the tune for The Quartermaster's Store in my head. been humming it ever since. But yes. I wonder why I sing so much of the war stuff. because I really don't know. This is a mystery. And mysteries are what keep us going as a race. Whats out there? How can we find out?
Reach for the stars! You might just catch the moon.
Today is a friend's birthday. And she has come up with the clever idea of adding all the numbers in your age up. So today, she is nine. And all of this year, I am two.
This explains to me why at certain ages, like when people goto university, people's mental ages seem to lower, sometimes dramatically. I know mine did. I came to uni, and I can enjoy far more childish things now than I did. But then I did go from ten to two when I had my twentieth birthday.
Anyway, my friend is having a party this evening. And because it is her ninth birthday, we are having a proper party for her. With Jelly, and ice cream, and cake, and not to mention the trifle. And so, for an evening we shall regress into a childish state and revel in it. Because we all love to be young again, if only for a short while. Why is this? Because it brings back the memories of our childhood. And gives us a chance to be nostalgic.
I writing this and remembering one of my birthdays, I'm not sure which one where I was promised a barbecue by my parents. The day came, and I was all excited about it, and it tipped it down. Absolute buckets it was. So my dad took an umbrella, stood out in the rain, and cooked the meat whilst my friends and I played in the living room. I have often thought that I have an amazing dad, and this pretty much confirms it for me.
I am happy today. Cheerful. Looking forwards to this evening, and I've had a fairly relaxing day. So I sang in the shower. Loudly. I take this opportunity to apologise to my flat mates, should they read this. Why is it that people do this? Why, when a lot of people refuse to sing anywhere else (I am not one of those, by the way.) will they sing in the shower? I personally have no idea. But maybe it is the water. Do I think it makes my voice sound nicer? Maybe it does. Maybe it is the lack of audience. Actually, that last one will probably clench it for a lot of people. But what do people sing? Personally, I've sang quite quite a wide range. from Queen to the Seekers, to Steeleye Span, and on occaision, the odd bit of Bach and Beethoven. Well, hummed. But by far the largest collection of songs that I've sang, both in and out of the shower is WWI and II songs. And I have no idea why. This morning, a friend put the tune for The Quartermaster's Store in my head. been humming it ever since. But yes. I wonder why I sing so much of the war stuff. because I really don't know. This is a mystery. And mysteries are what keep us going as a race. Whats out there? How can we find out?
Reach for the stars! You might just catch the moon.
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