Category: Creativity

Airmiles is at it again

It’s been a while since I reported on the royals. Probably because Kate can do no wrong and Wills is doing his best, bless him.

But sources tell me that the PoW is side-lining his rapacious brother whose strings are obviously still being jerked by the inimitable Fergie. Andy’s been whining about his daughters’ having to work for living – which they seem do do but rather spasmodically – arguing that the Heir’s lads are fully subsidised royals. With his nose well and truly out of joint, Andy asked HM the Queen to intercede on his behalf – and got what can only be described as the bum’s rush from the Palace too.

Come on girls! Use your natural talents, tap into Daddy’s well-oiled connections, marry well – and Chuck’s your uncle!

Proud

It’s meant a lot of work and determination but worth every ounce. I refer of course to a grandparent’s input to a grandchild’s GCSE results, published yesterday!

My most senior of ten did all the requisite academic subjects and (Jazz note)  the really useful Textiles Technology, well suited to the distaff side methinks. 😷

So I can relax again until next year when another young lady shows her paces.

 

A Fest of Lit.

As an aspiring writer, my big breakthrough piece of fiction is still unwritten, I have always wanted to visit the Cheltenham Literature Festival. The chance to hob-nob with fellow unpublished sorts and to see in the flesh real authors would be happiness unbound.

Mingling at social gatherings with the lit-set I would forgo the glasses of bubbly on the trays and demand a beer from the Jeeves-like waiter. After all, With Faulks’ powers faltering, I’m the next big thing in town. I’d also ask Jeeves for the big daddy of vol-au-vents, a scotch pie. And I’d tell him to drown the pastry with Bertie Worcester sauce. Continue reading “A Fest of Lit.”

Moratorium

With the whole world now revolving around the times of 3pm CET, 6pm CET and 9pm CET important duties have to be sandwiched between the Euro 2016 games or discarded altogether. Discarsions, for me, have included no trampolining practice or parkouring. Other pieces of business have to be rushed. Blogging has been put on the Croatian flares backburner.

Then a window of opportunity presented itself. Right now.

Pass the open window
For it bodes ill
The sash could break
Your neck on its sill

Your fave toons

Not for the faint-hearted, the Grauniad reveals HM the Queen’s pop picks. Few surprises of course. And if One may do it, so may we, innit?

So I’ll start you off, just to cause a mild flutter of interest or disgust here.

Michelle, the Beatles, Rubber Soul.

Road to Hell, Chris Rhea.

Let’s dance, David Bowie.

…and almost every Buddy Holly and Billy Holliday number!

So now it’s your turn. Don’t be shy.

Putin put out

I couldn’t miss out on a headline like this, could I? Even though I refuse to watch or enter discussions about the much-feted Eurovision extravaganza, which, allegedly Vlad himself dictated Mother Russia must win at any cost. Heads will roll, it is reported, now that a Ukrainian song about genocide in the Crimea (in English) beat the Russian entry. The votes were rigged by the pesky Western organisers, of course. So what’s new? Apart from the Aussies wanting to horn in on the show too. Typical Eurononsense.