I hope you will forgive this one. I know it’s pure maudlin self indulgence but it’s written in honour of the day that’s in it.
My Dad was the youngest of eight children and the son of a baker. Born in a tenement flat in Leith, home of the accursed Hibees. Luckily, the family moved back to Easter Ross and Grandad’s home town of Invergordon before there was any chance of infection.
Mom’s untimely call bags burglar
LAKE WORTH, Florida: A burglar who left his phone behind was rumbled when his mum rang just as police officers arrived at the house he’d just robbed.
Derek Codd, 19, left his cellphone on the kitchen sideboard after he and sidekick Kristen Rynearson stole jewellery from a house in Palm Beach County.
When an investigators were called to the house, the discarded phone rang, the officer picked it up and saw “Mom” lit up on the screen.
The policeman asked the woman on the other end who the phone belonged to, and she said it was her son’s.
Codd, of Lake Worth, had stolen the victim’s cellphone and a shotgun. His female companion had 49 pieces of jewellery belonging to the victim’s wife in her purse.
Both were arrested and face multiple charges, including burglary and larceny. – orange news
Notwithstanding that management has probably sent messages to all Cherished Colleagues never to let OZ win any competition ever again, it behoves me to set a photo comp while my poor old laptop is still whirring.
I should like to see a piccie entitled “My Favourite Thing(s)”. Any subject matter is admissible – a person, a view, an object, a pet, etc., etc. – the only rules being that it must, of course, be your own composition and must be on this thread by midnight Zulu this coming 30th November.
It was always he that stirred us into to casting our minds back and thinking of those who fell during the many conflicts, in many different parts of the world for far too long.
I was pleased to see the Springboks with the poppy on our shirt during the destruction of the Welsh in Cardiff yesterday. In remembrance of Toc and the millions of others, I’ve changed mine.
Dear cherished colleagues. I apologise for my absence from The Chariot, which is down to chronic connectivity problems and a laptop that will be shot in the face very soon unless it shapes up pronto.
I know a photo comp needs to be set and I’m thinking of “My favourite thing(s)” as a working title. I shall put up a separate post on this.
Oh, a bit of news. In the early morning of 31st October, our fourth anniversary, I plied the NSW with champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice and asked her if she would do me the honour of becoming the next Mrs OZ. She eventually said, “Yesh” There was a solitaire involved.
Kaohsiung is often described as the “anti-Taipei” in much the same way as Osaka is the anti-Tokyo or Marseille is the anti-Paris. This view is very much true. In practical matters it holds true as much as it does in abstract. Kaohsiung is connected to its airport by its underground system. Taipei is connected to its airport by bus and only bus. I am not especially fond of buses and avoid them whenever possible preferring trams, trains and subways. There is something uncivilised about buses. Perhaps it is the tendency of peasants to use them as a favoured means of transport? But that is not relevant to this topic, so I will digress. After a long morning of walking about Taipei I took the bus to the airport to fly to Osaka. The security check was fast and pleasant. No aggro, no hassle. Everything was scanned, the metal detector did not sound as I went through and an exit stamp was duly affixed to my passport. Read more…
Thank you, Janus for your timely reminder that some of us are not exactly pulling our weight.
Moving day went as well as can be expected, and I dare say I will recover from the trauma in the next few months. Meanwhile, I cannot find anything or rather essentials always seem to be at the bottom of the large packing case we open. We have most of our furniture in the garage and about fifty packing cases still unopened. Packing cases which we have explored line the hall, mostly full of stuff which we can happily live without! I thought I had successfully de-cluttered but it would appear not.
I took the summer off, basically. Well, if you can call doing two jobs, managing the house and garden and going through a family bereavement ‘taking time off’.
It was however time off from blogging.
Anyhoo I’m back. Read more…
Apologies for not having been around, I have been busy dying from the local version of the Black Death. A couple of weekends ago I ventured south to inspect a festival of Llamas, no, Not the religious variety more the four hooved kind! And to purchase an alpaca/silk mix for spinning on behalf of my sister. This was held at some rat hole too near Seattle, namely Monroe. I say rathole without fear of contradiction when the best restaurant in town for lunch was, wait for it, Dennys!!! (For those of you not conversant with our erstwhile colonies, think Little Chef!
Obviously there was an insufficient distance to quarantine the place from the miasmic effluvia of Seattle, too many wogs and queers have the place radiating germs, stray bullets and knives! Three days later, wipe out! A week in bed and thereafter spectral totterings from room to room, coughing, choking, hacking, wheezing and cursing. I still haven’t been out of the door and am unlikely to in the near future.
Good thing I have pneumonia shots these days or the local Sisters of the Perpetual Prophet, sorry profit, aka The Sisters of Mercy aka Bellingham Hospital would have had their claws in my bank balance! (No mercy shown there I assure you!)