tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64013692008-04-09T00:23:20.323+01:00Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-22550268155784326242007-10-31T11:57:00.000Z2007-11-24T00:51:30.122Z

I wouldn't mind, but I'm never invited.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-19832311808925811882007-10-17T19:48:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:50:21.390Z

Well, the girl's moved out at last, thank god. Means I can actually get the place clean and it will stay clean. Girls believe hiding things equates to hygiene and prefer the self-righteousness of periodic cleaning frenzies/theatrics to the relative sanity of simply not spreading crap everywhere in the first place. Breadcrumbs in bed, anyone? But the BIG benefit, of course, is that I won't need

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-56333031790334532112007-10-14T10:23:00.001+01:002008-04-09T00:23:20.356+01:00

with apologies to Richard Feynman I wonder why. I wonder why. I wonder why I wonder. I wonder what I'll do today... Things that I could do today, Things I really should. Weighed up against another list: Things I rather would. To clean the house, for example, now Or do those dishes there. The silent stare of laundry bag And the vacuum's empty glare. The autumn sun awaits me too, As the mist

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-53479464991990755362007-10-13T10:30:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:47:21.637Z

The hills have gone away today. I wonder where they went? This morning's turned my windows grey. Mist is heaven scent.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-61044759833544175572007-10-12T20:53:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:46:07.570Z

"I quite like killing time," Sal said. Arrogant twat. What was he on about now? "No, really. That sense of accomplishment when a fine fat otherwise-productive 15 minutes – BLAM! Gone. Dead. Wasted. Killed." "By you." "By me. Killing time." "I don't know wh…" "Here!" he cried, and flung open a previously unnoticed door. "Check out my trophy room. I keep them all." It was long and

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-44340890843484796452007-09-20T17:40:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:44:04.438Z

Coming back across the ploughed fields now dusted with green shoots, I'm arrested by the sky. Heaven's a high pale blue and beneath it a single spatterwork of cottonwool clouds marches in melee order and at-ease pace, drifting like happy galleons before a summer breeze. But today there's something different, and it takes some time to place it. Flare white a-top, they carry hulls of silver blue,

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-90344314464458869782007-09-20T17:37:00.000+01:002007-11-24T01:02:26.032Z

The light. The light is changing. I noticed it this morning as I rounded a curve at the foot of Little Tibet. The eye-high jumble of hedge by the road, shot through with wickedly spined blackberry hordes, stood unshaded in the sun at that time of the morning as it has every morning since this hell-ride became part of my day. But this morning the exploding green is different somehow. It's… like

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-74575737187302033282007-09-11T19:46:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:37:36.790Z

K : Hi guys Cinema next week – Tuesday – Bourne Ultimatum. Will have a look on Monday where it is showing and what time. Let me know if you fancy it. Sal : Could do – do you need to know the back-story? I haven’t seen the other 11 Bourne movies, you see. K : I don't think so. Sal : Well, just to be on the safe side, I’ll make one up. “Mr & Mrs Bourne-Yesterday were walking through the

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-73473546655833513692007-09-10T20:34:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:35:29.055Z

I bought a leather pipe today, In the spirit of Henery Crun. "Mnk - You can't get the wood" -- you should try eBay! Whatever you want there's one!

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-49618140676490455602007-09-06T19:33:00.000+01:002007-11-24T01:03:50.801Z

The ride to work is a long one and a hilly one. "Little Tibet" the locals call one part of it; and I'd laughed to hear it till I'd tried to ride it. You need low gears and my ancient bike's are jammed in the top cogs. Lifting 150m in a humping half-mile, when the hamstrings cry "Enough!" I tilt gratefully off the side and walk the rattling wobbling machine the rest of the close winding forest

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-84108464108527450982007-09-02T23:32:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:32:41.911Z

First, catch and cook your steak. Make sure it's unfeasibly large. Next, on a fine bright Summer's sun day, remove the remains of your steak from the fridge and hike a mile through winding country lanes exploding with impossibly beautiful frantic green lushness, to an impossibly lovely pub considered traditional in the 16th century. We're talking tiny rooms, 6 foot ceilings, and more exposed

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-36421126774582208012007-08-23T22:20:00.000+01:002007-11-24T00:30:09.942Z

"Hey, you know how you took the fryingpan for your camping trip? Turns out I don't need one. You can just cook directly on the hob. One less thing for the washing up, too. Genius." [Context: My new flatmate is a bundle of fun: unmalicious, energetic, a life-lover. The only girl I've ever been able to talk with first thing in the morning without feeling like I'm going to crumple up. A running

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-80153628329836200162007-02-19T10:07:00.002Z2007-06-07T01:05:00.326+01:00

God creates Religions. Man creates Churches.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-46069354315771415792007-02-19T10:07:00.001Z2007-02-19T10:07:49.538Z

The difference between a religion and a church, of course, is that religion has Prophets, while churches have Priests.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-32066009081652056642007-02-19T09:51:00.000Z2007-02-19T10:08:22.045Z

Our fears are evolutionarily selected for, to improve our species' success even as they damage our own. Lifted out of my own comment box, as part of the discussion of the post immediately below: "Social Fears are simply Evolution". (some typos have been corrected; capitalisation/punctuation added for wider readability) Zeno : ... I would have thought that selection of fears and insecurities over

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-91896403243611253922007-02-13T19:44:00.003Z2007-02-13T19:45:19.758Z

replicated out for posterity from comment on: Yobbo> Why? Because when you give someone a little bit of power, they always lust for more. Actually, more that people who desire power over other people are the ones who tend to strive for such positions. People who desire power over other people, as opposed to people who desire a good result for other people, need to Use that power continuously.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-46207491282722752532007-02-13T19:44:00.002Z2007-02-13T19:44:39.782Z

replicated out for posterity from comment on: Mirror, mirror...Beauty also comes in many forms, or rather the perception of beauty does… stick with me here. The other day I came upon a news article in which a woman, suffering from Body Integrity Identity Disorder, explains the feelings and circumstances that led to her having one of her (healthy) legs amputated. The article was certainly news

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-60810904697378344592007-02-13T19:44:00.001Z2007-02-13T19:46:31.704Z

replicated out for posterity from comment on: Central News: Tri-Cameral LegislatureA few days ago I blogged about my thoughts on a type of tri-cameral legislature. I have read other blogs and they don’t seem to think that we need hereditary peers. Some think it is unfair that they get the job by being born into it. I agree, it is unfair but these people are doing a very good job. If it wasn’t

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1170298954722188782007-02-01T03:02:00.000Z2007-02-01T03:02:34.736Z

The words said "Refrain", but nobody did.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1169472424290373072007-01-22T13:26:00.000Z2007-01-22T13:28:40.463Z

Have I need of expression? I fear that I feel that I don't. The active understanding -- it serves. The froth of attention -- it won't.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1169063642561799652007-01-17T19:53:00.000Z2007-01-17T19:54:02.650Z

I just ran across this again, via a referral. It was posted as a comment to another blog. I think it deserves to stand alone. Scott Water's blog post: In preparation for a corporate trip, I just read "Who Moved My Cheese", by Spencer Johnson, M.D. Some of you might recognize Spencer's name. He is the co-author of another interesting book, "One Minute Manager". It was a very insightful book

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1161137833904410562006-10-18T03:16:00.000+01:002006-10-18T03:17:13.916+01:00

It occurs to me that, on average, ALL of my life is past-tense.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1159871717484583492006-10-03T11:34:00.000+01:002006-10-15T03:30:06.666+01:00

What people call "memories" are more usually a reconstructed view of a past that would justify their current preferred view of themself. He who does not remember the past is condemned to oh look a butterfly.

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1159810800356771122006-10-02T18:40:00.000+01:002006-10-02T19:18:53.930+01:00

> ref comment re Crusaders Spot on, as regards most crusaders' scrabbling need to paper over their own insecurities by changing other people's lives. ...regardless of those people's wishes or the actual consequences of their own actions. However, I take very minor issue with this: "They make windows into men's souls, dislike what they see, and resolve to change it." I'd have phrased it that

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401369.post-1159807941815248802006-10-02T18:38:00.000+01:002006-10-02T19:17:46.986+01:00

>We keep racheting up and, on the average, the richer and more educated we get the more rational, humane and civilized we get. 2 things here: 1/ evolution of cultures, just like genes, is a Process, not a Progress seeing a result as Progress, rather than Consequence, stems from individual Social outlook of an aspirational nature. the Habsburg Lip was a triumph of evolution, the pinnacle of

Salhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04241907951700887861noreply@blogger.com