Getting comfy

I think I’m getting the hang of this site now and starting to feel at home.

I blog here and on my page, click between the two, a bit like MyT without the Disordered Personalities.

I go to see what the Freefarmer has written and drool over the photos.

I go to the dashboard and each time find something new to play with (though how can I change the names of blogs on my blogroll?  I want John Mackie’s to say John Mackie and not Embraforever).

I can waste every bit of much time here as I did on MyT.  And I do.

Yep. I like it. I think I’ll stay.

Lost cause

It is crews who make ships.  I am sure that we all remember folk who – in our pasts – have determined their place in our memories for good (or even bad) reasons. I dedicate this memory, therefore, to someone I learned a lot from but who – for want of a better explanation – fell victim to the ‘demon’ drink. A true ‘victim of circumstance’, one of life’s inevitable, self-inflicted casualties.

He was an old style AB, frequently grizzled – some would say ‘rough’ – but he was an expert seaman and knew his job. I can still see him up to his waist in water on the afterdeck of the ‘Afon Las’ as we ship handled a bulker at the deep water jetty, laughing and making comments about better ways to make a living – but loving it, knowing that was what he was born to do – and did well. Continue reading “Lost cause”

Dollops and blobs

How do you tell when your paint tray is overfilled?

When it washes over the edge like a tidal wave all down your front, that’s when.

I discovered this morning that I have lost my decorating mojo.   Not only did I fail to manage my paint tray correctly but my roller wouldn’t roll. It just kind of stuck so great floppily globs of emulsion dripped from it when I applied it to the ceiling in time-honoured fashion.

I was ok with the rubbing down. I mean, what can you get wrong with sandpaper, apart from sandpapering the tips off your newly bought decorating gloves? Fingerless mitts might have been ok in Dickens’ day but quite frankly, they are just further crevices into which emulsion paint can seep.
Continue reading “Dollops and blobs”

Blissy biking.

Knee injuries make you feel really old.   I mean really old; Igor-loping, arthriticky, limpingly, grotesquely old.

Dodgy knees don’t like stairs. You pause and think “oh drat” before going up and you come down in the ungainly fashion of a unidexter.

Knee problems are a timely reminder to have patience with people who are a bit slow on stairs and to be considerate at all times to those folk whose entire existence is ruled by degrees of impaired mobility.

Part of the knee recovery plan has been to use the turbo-trainer to keep the muscles in shape.  It’s in the dining room overlooking the garden. Two hours before people turn up to dinner I get asked “Will you get that bike out into the garage?” and I’m afraid I always refuse because a) it’s a nice bike (elegant Simoncini frame with Shimano Ultegra gears) and b) because the garage is not a good place for a nice bike being so crowded with stuff and c) it’s a fag getting it to the garage and bringing it back again five hours later.

Anyway, the turbo-trainer deserves house room. I’ve kept faith with it through this injury and the frequent winter days when I deem it not safe to mix it with ice or traffic. Continue reading “Blissy biking.”

On this Day – 9th March 1562

On the 9th of March 1562, kissing in public was banned – the penalty was death. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out how many people were punished!

That was not the first time that public kissing had been prohibited. The Emperor Tiberius banned kissing in public ceremonies in the hope that it would prevent the spread of herpes. In 1439, Henry VI banned kissing to stop the spread of plague and pestilence. More recently in 2004,  Indonesia passed laws that banned not only public nudity, erotic dancing, and “sex parties”, but also punished public kissing with up to five years in prison.

According to one article, people in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, are not permitted to kiss strangers and women in Hartford, Connecticut, are not legally allowed to lock lips with their husbands on Sundays.  And according to Indiana law, it is illegal for men who have a mustache to “habitually kiss human beings”. Continue reading “On this Day – 9th March 1562”

Short story / flash fiction competition

The Sunday Times yesterday announced the short list for the short story competition and in the Culture section AS Byatt wrote a piece about what makes a short story.

The short story is defined and redefined year on year.

What makes a good short story for you?  And can you name an author and a short story that has made a difference to you, or at least an impression on you?

And thirdly, a challenge.

A short short story. You have 150 words: post as a comment in the thread. Subject or theme, ‘Envy’. To include the word ‘audacious.’

Danny’s Boy

A short story – written a few years ago but it never saw the light of day except back on my home town forum. I’ve tidied it up a fair bit but the essence is still there. It was inspired by the loss of the ferry ‘Estonia’ in the Baltic, a terrible tragedy that claimed many lives and has never really been concluded. If I stray into nauticalese too much then tell me; it’s still a learning curve!

Continue reading “Danny’s Boy”