i’m feeling a tad flat right now. the same malaise seems to be afflicting many of the virtual street corners around which i hang: dr socks has had a dr foster-esque moment and stepped into a blog right up to her middle – actually, she’s sick of all the shite and has sat on her arse not blogging for a while (she may perhaps have stated it more elegantly, but you get my drift); witchy woo has had an attack of the ‘what’s the point’s; and my excellent geordie chum sparkle’s lobster has moved to another state of being – i found this strangely moving. and not just because lobsters do move strangely. even the web search terms have become stale and hackneyed with nary a ‘pubed pantie’ nor ‘yong perve’ to amuse me. worse, my great pal dave hasn’t called for ages – some pathetic excuse about formulating policy for the major political party he claims to run (you’d think i’d know about that???). i also have this funny pain in my elbow.
and yet…
and yet wonderful random bonuses sprout crocus-like around me, as this glorious english spring really hits its straps: the thread below is being written beautifully, surreally and at length by daisy puke, infidel and ehj2 (even though the spam cruncher does not get on with daisy and keeps consigning her innocent comments to the cack box – i assume mine only get through because its ‘my'[?] blog); a mysterious link may have appeared on the blog to the geezer who does clever website stuff (says it’s there but i can’t find it) and may or may not (site looked interesting if a bit too much about computers and other new-fangled stuff for me to read the damn thing) have designed the cutline theme (as used here; but i stuck my own picture in cos i’m well on top of the tech); and tomorrow i get to bang drums with 4 year olds.
i think it must be pixies. hey, you want narrative? – go read the stuff about fish from my three ghostwriters
there's a place for us 
Thank you for your kind and eloquent critique SW me old china! (I feel by now I can be familiar enough to call you that).
Today, I am being taken to lunch in the great town of Windsor, one of the homes of the family of the same name (I am not a royalist by any means, but that’s another story- I do like the architecture of the surrounding castle) – The sun is out, yes, maybe there are doldrums other places, but when the sun comes out, it’s easier to see the nice places you missed when it’s all dark and gloomy (yes, that can be a metaphor too) – the buds are on the trees, there is colour all around – blue sky and twittering birds.
I only mention Windsor as it has come up in this blog, in reference to, Ibelive, your good mate dave, who went to school there for awhile and tried to dumb himself down in that particular posh ‘hood. I think it was finally established that he got his “bitch” (forget what they call the lower boys in public schools over here) to to all the chavving by proxy.
Today, we will be passing thru the other capital of HipHopvilles – Staines – I hope to see the “massive” there roaming the streets bragging about thier asbos and hangin with ali g (who, it has to be said, is now very busy ironically, being held up as a hero by the very peeps he has taken the piddle out of so much – well, he did it with both “sides ” innit? That’s what was so funny about it).
Now, we hope to meet up with her maj about 2 pm, take some tea and cucumber sarnies, I will be making a respectful but subtly barbed and bitchy comment about how she needs a serious consultation with a sartorial expert who’s mindset is not stilll stuck in the 1940’s (oh yes ok, different day love, different colours, but same outfit – oh dear – all that money and oh – I nearly fogot – the hair – why, a high court judges’s wig could not be more stiff and solid as that hair!) Still, I guess it’s good some things in this world remain the same – it would just be nice to see it slightly updated occasionally – I have free-flowed off again – as I have said, I think most of the royals have anal sphincter issues, and reserve a special disdain for the queen, who it has to be said, is not the most demonstratively humourous of people but there you go. I won’t be waving any union jacks on my visit.
We will then be proceeding to have a quick drink at the Isinglass and Monkee Pub just up the road from the palace innit? I’ll say “hi” to maj for you!
Spam filter be damned!!!
SW my last comment went in your spam box – I think I will have to try another variation on my name to see if your blog likes that better.
Only a week ago I had six inches of snow to amble around in for miles under a full moon at midnight … and for hours I following little mice and mole and squirrel and bird and skunk and deer trails through the woods around me.
For the last two days the temperature has been in the sixties, and I’ve been pruning trees, helping the roses thread through their trellises, clearing debris from small ponds, enjoying the bees in the crocuses, and watching the return of the birds and basking in their song.
Now it’s to sprinkle on and off for two days before properly raining on the third … and I’m playing at cleaning up the garage a bit, puttering around dusting the tractor and topping off fluids and cleaning air filters, looking out for downed trees to cut and split and stack for next winter’s fires.
In a moment it’s time for a nap. And I’ll join my old friend Don Quixote in donning old armor and we’ll tilt at windmills for awhile with our rusty swords and broken lances. Perhaps, as always, we’ll find a quiet castle that will welcome us, or a broken down tavern in the woods, and we’ll pause to drink deep mugs of dark beer with Cyrano and Paladin and d’Artagnan and Ivanhoe.
Of late, Jack Sparrow has occasionally been joining us, complaining at length that we don’t have his favorite rum and he must make do with cognac. At least he pays in gold.
There is no plot. Just tired old men drinking. And napping in the slow afternoon light.
Just peace. For all.
Thank you for thinking about Fluffy the Geordie Lobster who has gone to the big Toon in the sky.
>.
and probably being chucked out of the celestial crown posada as we speak…
Only if they have gone cannibal?
However, yes – I catch your drift and now I feel hungry, though I’m not a member of the bigg market – yunno.
I never cease to find that place – bloody err amazing. The market not the Posada that is.
my friend went into a kebab shop one night and was promptly asked ‘ye lookin for a fuckin fight, like?’ by a helpful chap who immediately assisted him in finding one (albeit a short one). only in the bigg market…
i am, however, most grateful for the rupali in all its weirdness.
dp – i have just retrieved two of your comments from the coalhole of cack – sorry. your remarks on a certain family reminded me of a story about them i doubt is true but would very much like to be: liz is helping herself to a drink at lunchtime observed by her mother who asks tartly: ‘aren’t you supposed to be ruling this afternoon?’.
and the more widely reported story of said mother when she was George VI’s queen meeting the celebrated but absent-minded conductor sir thomas beecham.
queen: oh sir thomas, how are you?
beecham(knows he knows her but no idea how): very well thank you and yourself?
queen: yes well, thank you.
beecham(fishing for a clue): and your husband – is he well?
queen: yes very well thank you.
beecham(none the wiser and getting desperate): and is he still in the same line of work?
queen (deadpan): yes; still king!
not bad for a bunch of inbred germans.