Brute Force And Ignorance
Hurrah! A week after it was ordered, our connection to the Internet is all jumpered up and working again. We are connected to the outside world; it’s just a shame that there’s all that unpacking and...
View ArticleCollodion
Back in the mists of time, I used to think it would be a nice idea to move to London. There’s always something going on, of course. Always plenty to do, and always plenty to keep me entertained. When I...
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Why We Now Have A Frost-Free Fridge
When we first moved to Bristol, we moved into an unfurnished flat that came supplied with white goods, partly because it made life much easier for us when moving. No worries about having to find a...
View ArticleMonetising Friendship
I’m inviting a few friends round one night. We’ll have a few drinks, a bit of a laugh, and I’ll show them a pile of stuff that I’m trying to sell. Hopefully, they’ll buy some, and I’ll make a tidy...
View ArticleOverheard
Overheard: a youngish woman walking down Bedminster Parade, phone in hand: “I think I’m in Bedminster, Mum, but I don’t know where Bedminster is…”
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Quiet, please
Saturday night: to Bristol Central Library, for a gig by The Wraiths, a local band whose “thing” is setting classic poems to music. We’d seen them twice before, at various events,* but last night was...
View ArticleSuddenly, half a year
Well, hello again. Apparently, it’s summer. Regularly, I do get urges to come back to the Admin Interface and write a bit more prose-doodling for this website. There are so many other things to do that...
View ArticleThe Parsimonious Bonfire Night
Today, we were up in Worcestershire; and as we drove home down the dark motorway, we watched rockets flying up into the sky, from all the towns and villages along the way. Strensham, Tewkesbury;...
View ArticleThe Writer’s Voice
Writing this post from the other week, with its long rant about the poor quality of the worldbuilding in BBC3′s Being Human, has made me think more in general about the quality of writing, and the...
View ArticleWell, hello there
I don’t believe in round numbers. Other people, though, do believe in round numbers, and I admit I compulsively watch the odometer turn over on the car. Five hundred miles since the start of the trip,...
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