A man cannot have too many TARDISes

I arrived in the office this morning to find a Christmas card and a gift wrapped TARDIS containing mallows on my desk.

It is good to have a boss who understands the finer points in life. I am a) losing count of the number of TARDISes I own, and b) feeling a little guilty about using my new Christmas icon to relay these facts...

A man cannot have too many TARDISes

I arrived in the office this morning to find a Christmas card and a gift wrapped TARDIS containing mallows on my desk.

It is good to have a boss who understands the finer points in life. I am a) losing count of the number of TARDISes I own, and b) feeling a little guilty about using my new Christmas icon to relay these facts...

Crab machine and tentacles

I have just nipped outside for a smoke. By crackey, but it’s chilly out there.

The main point of interest in the walkway between this building and the Marks & Spencer is the avenue of young trees that was transplanted in as part of the recent redevelopment. They are only about 10-12 feet tall and clearly immature, but they look healthy enough for central London and are in a location where they are not likely to get vandalised. The past couple of days have seen these poor things getting draped with the sorriest excuses for Christmas lights I have seen in a long time; they are not unlike samples being pushed by Woolworth’s, which were rejected by ellefurtle and myself when we were on the look out for festive decorations. Quite apart from that, it is interesting quite how long it is taking to drape these sorry specimens across the trees. There is a strange crab-like machine out there which is supposed to do the job, but which spends most of its time idle, looking vaguely ominous. Brightly painted but ominous. I have taken a photo of it on my phone and I shall try to post it up tonight, if I remember.

In the meantime, I keep checking my neck for gills.

Not because we are being deluged with rain or engulfed in floodwater, you understand, but because I think I am turning into an aquatic creature. We changed the plaster holding the splint to my finger this morning only to find that the skin has gone pasty white and wrinkled as though it has spent a month in the bath. The bits where the air can get to it are fine, but the rest looks as thought it is developing suckers.

Come join our inky collective….

Crab machine and tentacles

I have just nipped outside for a smoke. By crackey, but it’s chilly out there.

The main point of interest in the walkway between this building and the Marks & Spencer is the avenue of young trees that was transplanted in as part of the recent redevelopment. They are only about 10-12 feet tall and clearly immature, but they look healthy enough for central London and are in a location where they are not likely to get vandalised. The past couple of days have seen these poor things getting draped with the sorriest excuses for Christmas lights I have seen in a long time; they are not unlike samples being pushed by Woolworth’s, which were rejected by ellefurtle and myself when we were on the look out for festive decorations. Quite apart from that, it is interesting quite how long it is taking to drape these sorry specimens across the trees. There is a strange crab-like machine out there which is supposed to do the job, but which spends most of its time idle, looking vaguely ominous. Brightly painted but ominous. I have taken a photo of it on my phone and I shall try to post it up tonight, if I remember.

In the meantime, I keep checking my neck for gills.

Not because we are being deluged with rain or engulfed in floodwater, you understand, but because I think I am turning into an aquatic creature. We changed the plaster holding the splint to my finger this morning only to find that the skin has gone pasty white and wrinkled as though it has spent a month in the bath. The bits where the air can get to it are fine, but the rest looks as thought it is developing suckers.

Come join our inky collective….

I don't do memes... (IV)

...but it's worth it for the place names generated as much as the titles (some of which, to we purists, are meaninglessly inaccurate)!

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Grand Duke Bryan the Laconic of Lardle St Earache Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

I don't do memes... (IV)

...but it's worth it for the place names generated as much as the titles (some of which, to we purists, are meaninglessly inaccurate)!

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Grand Duke Bryan the Laconic of Lardle St Earache Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title