Smile Time

It seems that I shall have to increase the quality of the pictures I take since shrinking them to half size or so to post them up here really screws with the quality. And I must get rid of the bloody time stamp, too. Nevertheless, this one is just about OK despite being gamma-corrected (Must remember to turn flash back on) and shrunk to fit.



Here we see Miss Furtle dozing happily under the watchful eye of a friend. I am not saying it is related, but I woke up this morning with five bites on my left calf, whilst Miss Furtle sported one. Luckily I had Anthisan available or I should be spending a day of unhappy scratching.

Edited to add: In no way do I wish to be the author of Bin's brane going "poing" and sliding out from his ears (entertaining though that might be), and since he kindly provided the relevant html, I have splodged¹ the smaller version of the picture in with associated clickety link to the gopping big version.

¹Technical term.

Smile Time

It seems that I shall have to increase the quality of the pictures I take since shrinking them to half size or so to post them up here really screws with the quality. And I must get rid of the bloody time stamp, too. Nevertheless, this one is just about OK despite being gamma-corrected (Must remember to turn flash back on) and shrunk to fit.



Here we see Miss Furtle dozing happily under the watchful eye of a friend. I am not saying it is related, but I woke up this morning with five bites on my left calf, whilst Miss Furtle sported one. Luckily I had Anthisan available or I should be spending a day of unhappy scratching.

Edited to add: In no way do I wish to be the author of Bin's brane going "poing" and sliding out from his ears (entertaining though that might be), and since he kindly provided the relevant html, I have splodged¹ the smaller version of the picture in with associated clickety link to the gopping big version.

¹Technical term.

(no subject)

Saturday morning, before I forget, was prezzies all round as my consignment of books from Amazon, my season two DVDs of Battlestar Galactica from Play.com and Miss Furtle’s Angel plushie from e-bay all arrived at the same time.

Like Christmas it was.

Part of the weekend – Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning was spent up in South Cambridge chez wallabok for his birthday bash. ellefurtle and I drove up in the borrowed and soon to be sold Pa Furtle Saab, making only one navigating error on the way due to insufficient signposting dropping us in the middle of Baldock instead of the newly opened bypass. Miss Furtle is a shy flower, but she coped well with being surrounded by people and kids she didn’t know very well, though a restorative wander out in the direction of the interestingly named Fowlmere provided a welcome break. It’s a shame we didn’t strike out maybe an hour earlier: Fowlmere is only a mile and a half away across the fields, but about halfway there it was clearly beginning to get dark, so we horseshoed back across other fields and along the road back to Foxton to save us from getting lost in rural Cambridgeshire without a torch etc.

I still have no idea if Fowlmere has either ducks or a lake. Maybe I’ll find out next time.

Mine host was and is a confused fellow, being half German and half Swedish. Foxton is routinely referred to as “Fuchsdorf” and the “White Horse” pub as the “Prancing Pony”. I mention this latter simply because as we were wandering back into the village and headed for the pub to partake of a refreshing sherbet as the twilight darkened, I was absolutely certain that I heard hoof falls but there were no horses to be seen. Were there seven riders behind us and if so, where were the remaining two? Imagination can be a poor thing to have during twilight in the country…

Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday were largely spent lounging. Despite it only being Tuesday today, I am finding it very hard to separate the two out in my memory as we contrived to be quite idly tired for much of the time, watching probably more of season two of The West Wing than is strictly wise.

(no subject)

Saturday morning, before I forget, was prezzies all round as my consignment of books from Amazon, my season two DVDs of Battlestar Galactica from Play.com and Miss Furtle’s Angel plushie from e-bay all arrived at the same time.

Like Christmas it was.

Part of the weekend – Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning was spent up in South Cambridge chez wallabok for his birthday bash. ellefurtle and I drove up in the borrowed and soon to be sold Pa Furtle Saab, making only one navigating error on the way due to insufficient signposting dropping us in the middle of Baldock instead of the newly opened bypass. Miss Furtle is a shy flower, but she coped well with being surrounded by people and kids she didn’t know very well, though a restorative wander out in the direction of the interestingly named Fowlmere provided a welcome break. It’s a shame we didn’t strike out maybe an hour earlier: Fowlmere is only a mile and a half away across the fields, but about halfway there it was clearly beginning to get dark, so we horseshoed back across other fields and along the road back to Foxton to save us from getting lost in rural Cambridgeshire without a torch etc.

I still have no idea if Fowlmere has either ducks or a lake. Maybe I’ll find out next time.

Mine host was and is a confused fellow, being half German and half Swedish. Foxton is routinely referred to as “Fuchsdorf” and the “White Horse” pub as the “Prancing Pony”. I mention this latter simply because as we were wandering back into the village and headed for the pub to partake of a refreshing sherbet as the twilight darkened, I was absolutely certain that I heard hoof falls but there were no horses to be seen. Were there seven riders behind us and if so, where were the remaining two? Imagination can be a poor thing to have during twilight in the country…

Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday were largely spent lounging. Despite it only being Tuesday today, I am finding it very hard to separate the two out in my memory as we contrived to be quite idly tired for much of the time, watching probably more of season two of The West Wing than is strictly wise.

Mind Map Malarchy

I'd forgotten that I'd clicked on this, it was so long ago. But since the chap actually did it and sent me the link albeit after some months, I felt I ought to break my meme rule and post up my mind map here.


( Click here to see! )

Mind Map Malarchy

I'd forgotten that I'd clicked on this, it was so long ago. But since the chap actually did it and sent me the link albeit after some months, I felt I ought to break my meme rule and post up my mind map here.


( Click here to see! )

Nice weather, strange times

What a difference a month makes. On 28 July I was grumbling about the heat - we had just had a power cut the night before which left us at the mercy of midnight heat with no breeze. We had even acquired a new fan which saw several days sterling use before the temperatures fell to more palatable levels.

Tonight, for the first time in about five months, I am wearing a sweater. Yes, folks, it's officially chilly tonight, if not downright parky. I am loving every minute of it. The Tubes are still sweltering hell-holes to travel on, and the days can still be very warm, but the evenings are now beginning to become distinctly autumnal . And we keep getting rain, too. Not enough to break the drought as yet, but enough to make it feel like England again, rather than Whetstone-upon-Malaga. Fantastic. What with significant daylight not arriving until around five fifteen in the morning and these lower temperatures I am beginning at long last to get significant amounts of uninterrupted sleep at night. Oh, late summer, how I love ye. Enough daylight to do what I want, not so much as to keep me red-eyed and weary. All I need now is curtains in the computer room to keep the early morning sun off the PC so I can check the TFL web page of a morning without having to position myself and the monitor without astronomical precision...

Changing the subject, I found out tonight that my youngest niece, Sarah-Lou now has a mobile phone. She is still a month away from her 9th birthday. Is it just me who thinks that this might be just a little over indulgent? What does an 8 or 9 year old need with a telephone, or am I just displaying further evidence of 21st century dislocation? My nephew and God son, Tom also informs me that he has not made it into college (by which I assume he means 6th form college or similar since he is only 16). I swear he sounded pleased about that. He never had much academic ambition and wants to be a chippy, though I would prefer he trained up as a plumber if he is going to be a tradesman - I'm not so sure that wood working is steady enough work. Even so, I wouldn’t have thought that dismal GCSE results is a cause for celebration.

I'm getting old; I do not understand and it's not as if he is stupid or anything.

Poot. Ah well.

Nice weather, strange times

What a difference a month makes. On 28 July I was grumbling about the heat - we had just had a power cut the night before which left us at the mercy of midnight heat with no breeze. We had even acquired a new fan which saw several days sterling use before the temperatures fell to more palatable levels.

Tonight, for the first time in about five months, I am wearing a sweater. Yes, folks, it's officially chilly tonight, if not downright parky. I am loving every minute of it. The Tubes are still sweltering hell-holes to travel on, and the days can still be very warm, but the evenings are now beginning to become distinctly autumnal . And we keep getting rain, too. Not enough to break the drought as yet, but enough to make it feel like England again, rather than Whetstone-upon-Malaga. Fantastic. What with significant daylight not arriving until around five fifteen in the morning and these lower temperatures I am beginning at long last to get significant amounts of uninterrupted sleep at night. Oh, late summer, how I love ye. Enough daylight to do what I want, not so much as to keep me red-eyed and weary. All I need now is curtains in the computer room to keep the early morning sun off the PC so I can check the TFL web page of a morning without having to position myself and the monitor without astronomical precision...

Changing the subject, I found out tonight that my youngest niece, Sarah-Lou now has a mobile phone. She is still a month away from her 9th birthday. Is it just me who thinks that this might be just a little over indulgent? What does an 8 or 9 year old need with a telephone, or am I just displaying further evidence of 21st century dislocation? My nephew and God son, Tom also informs me that he has not made it into college (by which I assume he means 6th form college or similar since he is only 16). I swear he sounded pleased about that. He never had much academic ambition and wants to be a chippy, though I would prefer he trained up as a plumber if he is going to be a tradesman - I'm not so sure that wood working is steady enough work. Even so, I wouldn’t have thought that dismal GCSE results is a cause for celebration.

I'm getting old; I do not understand and it's not as if he is stupid or anything.

Poot. Ah well.