Another day, another 65-75 year-old celebrity dies. It is times like this when I am glad I am not a celebrity. Who's next?
Bill Gates was on 'Desert Island Discs' this week. Absolutely no surprises there. He said he was not very good at talking to girls when at college. REALLY?
We are building up to yet another storm this weekend, but this time it is going to hit us in the South the hardest. I haven't heard a name for it yet, but I am going to guess, 'Isabel'.
I said in the last post that I could not put up a new one, but when I left it loading to make a working drawing, it loaded up to this. I don't know if it will let me publish though.
You can tell by the bite-sized snippets that I am writing now, that I don't have much confidence in it, so I am not going to too much trouble to make it into a piece of literary art. At least this minimal style may hold John's attention for longer than the more laborious posts.
I know what he means though. I too tend to drift off if I am confronted with a complete set of filled-out A4 sheets, no matter how well they are written. I kid myself that I will put some time aside to read them in the evening, but after a few beers and my equivalent of a hard day's work, I seldom do.
That's what so refreshing about Rachel's posts. I pop over there to be insulted with a series of four-letter word insults about how I have no money of my own, do not understand her and do not appreciate her sense of humour, then all is right in the world for another 24 hours.
A few people who I used to enjoy chatting to in the pub have given up drinking, so no longer go there in the early evening. It is no fun being a tee-total in a pub. I miss them, and have to fight off the desire to see them dead, just so I can have another year's worth of chat with them before they leave forever, but this is a little selfish.
I miss Jane and Lance here, and I miss the infrequent comments from Mise, Groucho and Sarah Toa too. I think I have done something to piss Sarah off, but - for the life of me - I cannot think what. My blog world - like the pub - is not the same without these little conversations. It is diminished.
When I watched 'Local Hero' again the other day, I was reminded about Burt Lancaster's shrink, whose treatment consisted of perpetually insulting Burt by calling him a piece of shit, etc. until he gets thrown out of the office.
Somehow, it appears, Rachel has even managed to fall out with Weave - of all people - but they seem to have made it up now. I sometimes wince when I use foul language in Weave's presence, but I have to remind myself that I must not tone-down whatever I feel the need to say, just because of the sensitivities of one reader. Or should I?
It occurred to me this morning that 'reader' is a much better word than 'follower' in the blog world. 'Follower' sounds far too cultish. Now I am going to employ the old Molly trick by asking:
What do you think?
My late mother. - This is the last of my series of old photos, and a particular favourite of my late mother. Not too PC these days, but I like it anyway.
14 minutes ago