This is, as it happens, the 100th post since the switch to this domain. The other 3.5k are stored round and about.

The work on the allotment continues if not apace, at least it continues. More beds dug, another started. Tools bought, old dudes talked to. I hate to scream stereotype!, but yes, there are a fair few flat-cappers knocking around. But also a fair few Margos, as well. Although probably a bit younger, a bit more willing to work, and with tighter teeshirts. So more Babs than Margo. But still very middleclass. A solitary blister obtained, crops sown.

Our local garden centre is also filled with Margo and Babs types. I remember hearing years ago that the best place to pick up women was supermarkets. I never believed that. But garden centres seem a fair bet. If you were looking, of course. I was looking, (sheesh, I don’t want to bump into them), but not looking. You know what I mean. At least, I hope Cassandra does. No, wait, this is an ill-advised paragraph. Move along.

Wee Xandy came with us to Scotsdales, and proceeded to sing the merits of various gardening implements. Like a kid in a toy shop in there, that one. He bought a rake, bamboo canes, a pumpkin, netting for peas and other bits and pieces. But some will have to wait until I have a few more beds dug. All this exercise. Can’t be good for a buddy.

Saturday involved me gazing at the perfect skies[0], and watching the Lancaster rumble overhead. Sunday involved me gazing at the perfect skies[0], watching the Hurricanes bank gracefully overhead. With me digging for victory. With no trappings of modern living around me, it could well have been 1941.

One of those trappings is having trinkets. Stuff. Things.[1] Toys. Just like with photography, where you get better pictures the more expensive gear you have, such it goes with music. I had my eye of a lovely 18-8-2 desk, going for a song. (ha!) And it went for a song. But my sniping sK1Lzz0r are but worthy of a n00b. I had the bid page, but misjudged by a second or so. Thereby losing out. I suck. What’s that Skippy? The talent is trapped down a mine and won’t escape by buying things, just by practising more?

More on those trappings. The cabal’s cabal were discussing fame and money. (One of the many inner circles to which I only think I belong.) Me, I would always choose the latter over the former. The former interests me not. Would be nice, actually, no, it wouldn’t even be that. Money is good, because money buys you trinkets thereby making your photography/music/car/life better. But again, even though I am an unrepentant freemarketeering libertarian, as long as I can feed my children, money only buys those trinkets.

Satdeh was also the FA Cup final. yawn Not exactly the best match ever. And I was interrupted (in the part I watched, I gave up and went to the allotment) by some Jehovah’s Witnesses. And do you know? That is the first time since I moved back to Engerland that they have bothered me. Cassandra returns from wherever she was (I forget) and I mention this is passing. Did you argue with them for an age? she opined. (As, you see, I have form here. Don’t ask.) No, as it happens, I didn’t, as at this juncture I was still waiting to see if the match would gather pace into something I could watch. It didn’t.

Live model, but not life model. A model-shaped gap in the lens.

Well I see you objecting so strongly, to the ways of the liberal disease
And your armchair satisfaction, as you narrow the meaning of free

Socialists. I just don’t get them. At all. I have had several discussions with the grotty collectivists recently, both online and off. Or on and offline. Whatever. But how they can hold the views they do without imploding in illogic is beyond me. Dressing up their concern for the people in weasel words and odd sideways arguments, nothing more than hatred and jealousy. I just don’t get it. (One of them was on whether Christ was the first socialist. Nope, sorry. He didn’t say ‘When I was hungry, you made a collective to coerce taxes from everyone to pay regardless to keep me fed’. Nope. He said something different. Hey! Look at me! I can take a quote from the Bible and use it to justify some of my own beliefs! sigh)

Then again, what do I know?

[0]Note: not cloudless.
[1]Note: The words stuff and thing are banned in our house.

  1. You need auction sniper.
    It bids for you at the last second.
    Used it today to get that jacket I was lusting over in Whistles last year.

    Mon 21 May, 9:07PM

  2. Quoting from the Bible like that sounds like my Da. He’s what you could term one of them fundamental Christian sort. This interweb is getting really scary now with people that sound like my Father ;-)

    Congrats on your 100th post I called in to see if the Queen has commented yet.

    Mon 21 May, 9:36PM

  3. Kirsty: I know. Oh, I know. But I saved money, whereas you spent it. I, erm, win. I think.

    Cybez: The queens I use would not excite you hums a show tune And how do you know I amn’t just some secret construct of the imagination of some fundementalist? Eh? Eh?

    Tue 22 May, 7:51AM

  4. I have a sign now, among it’s comments i included “no godbotherers” not heard from Jehovah since

    Tue 22 May, 6:46PM

Post a comment

(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)

Leave the dark corners of the interweb alone. Go to the bright spots shone on by the Beautiful Ones

The BlackStar Diaspora

The wulf insists on text here...and I shall leave it at that.

People I know

I know people who didn't work at BlackStar, and they have weblogs too. These are they.

News, politics and paranoia

The State is not your friend


It is a well-known fact that the Stray Taoist (nee Toaster) isn't as internally consistent as he thinks he is. Welcome to his world.

Feeds: RSS | Atom