Now that’s what you call a granny!
Enjoying the first Aus v Ind test. Low scoring, 50/50 winner bet wise at the moment. A bit of rain (time out to read The Telegraph/Beano) and a multitude of Richie’s (Richies? You decide) grey hairing the Adelaide venue with mic accoutrement/s.
Cricket, we love it. Day 1, Marcus Harris’ parents crying in the stands. Only in cricket. For MCC read 10CC, we love it.
Status Quo 1979 vintage. Boredom, isolation, exiled for tax reasons. Not themes that are grounds for prohibition. Yet this bland little number by The Quo has murky undertones and wasn’t banned by the Beeb. Well played, Quo.
Nobody ever has a bad word to say about Nostradamus. Indeed, volumes and volumes of books have been written about this arch-predictor of future events. That should be enough for my argument that astrologers are relevant and prophets of the first division (now called The Premier League but old habits and that) but I will write further of their great service to humanity.
It is a fascinating science the study of astrology and in the morning I fervently read all the newspaper horoscopers that divine the day I am going to have. Using their foreknowledge I know whether to get up out of bed or not. Pre-warned means I can change the road of my life without any Frostian gambles and avoid the pitfalls, so you seer they do serve a purpose.
The celestial language employed by these mighty sages make you want to tail it like a comet to your nearest telescope and gaze at the stars. “The five moons of Pluto are converging , this means pentagonal good luck for you.” Thanks a bunch of fives, Mystic Meghan. Who knew the Kuiper-belted dwarf planet Pluto had five moons? And that their names have Underworld connotations. It’s just so interesting. Our big bad planet has only one moon and it’s boringly called- the moon.
There’s a thing called a cusp which gives you the characteristics of two signs of the Zodiac. Quasar! You can be a crabby twin or a lion and a virgin at the same time. The cusp word is one of my favourites as is the phrase “on the cusp”. Without any modesty I attest that “on the cusp of greatness” is applicable to me. Nearly there.
Horoscope is a fine word but I would prefer the more scarier Horrorscope to be used when there’s writing on the wall. Ominous words daily for all twelve signs would make the population take notice that this world is rough and we ain’t all called Sue. Continue reading “Underrated: Horoscopes”
Freddie Starr ate my hamster.
The Hamster Freddie’d right back at him.
The following is based on a true story that happened on MyT
It was the irresistible force vs the immovable object. It was Ali/Frazier, Creed/Balboa and Butcher/Aggie all rolled into one. Both parties claimed a win the day they jousted on a blog. I’ll let the Charioteers decide whom was the real winner.
In the Red corner- Ana The Imp: erudite, sophisticated, a voracious reader, mixes at the top of society, well-travelled, a supernatural dream weaver entity, she owns a horse! She enters the ring to the hair raising orchestral strains of Dance of the Knights.
In the Blue corner- JW: unlearned non-googler, luddite tendencies, tractor blogger, usually found in the pub, day dreams a lot, owns a piggy bank! He enters the ring to the sawdust floor foot stomping The Sideboard Song.
This mismatch went the distance. Continue reading “Clash Of The Titans”
It’s in a diary
This is my investigation
It’s not a public inquiry
Dire Straits, Private Investigations
The General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) is a cookie too far. You can’t even access their official site without agreeing to the regulations! Every visit to a new website is taking an extra click. GDPR! It’s a click too much.
I, I, I must be getting old
There’s a fire and a fury
driven deep into my soul
It’s the helplessness that comes
from being under your control
Roger Taylor, The Unblinking Eye.
Anytime something bad happens the politicians bring out their sympathetic faces and they all read from the same script. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard them gravely say “This is a terrible tragedy.”
I’m racking my brain to think of any other kind of tragedy. A good tragedy? A funny tragedy? A favourable tragedy? Sooner or later some MP will utter “a tragic tragedy”. Can see it coming.
New Muse. New music. Wonder what the dinosaurs think of it?
Lost a fiver today.
It’s alright, don’t feel sorry for me. It was my own fault. Fell out my pocket. Not got a Clouseau where it went. Like Cato the Younger I took this hit with a resigned Hardy look at the fourth wall and remembered the famous Roman quote by Marcus Porcius Cato Uticensis “What’s for you will never go by you.” Though I’m sure it was originally in Latin,
Quid Leatherus testamus numquam Cheerioyou.
I was heel-clicked incarnate. Honestly, the cliché police, if they existed, would have thrown the book at me or locked me up and thrown away the key. Nothing could stop me in this mood. I was on top of the world, soaring like a cold blister and full of beans that could make a new forest. As I walked down the street I was the shiniest on show by a city mile (not in the country and anyway, a mile’s a mile for all that). I couldn’t resist singing my favourite Scorpions song “Here I am, Rock you like a Harry Kane.”
Then Destiny called. “Hello, you,” she said.
A driver had lost control of his Ford F650 pick up truck and had driven it onto the pavement. Careering at speed it was almost upon a young boy who was walking in front of me. I had a split second to make a decision. Continue reading “You need hands”