Yay! Total Feckin' Eejit's poetry fun is Back! Back! Back!
Christmas themed... here is my contribution.
Mr Creosote's Christmas
Predatory Pringles mingle with tipsy tins of Roses.
Roast potatoes dip delightedly into bowls of keys,
Selecting salacious selection boxes,
disappearing together to dark corners.
Sprouts pout wallflowers unwanted, get their coats and go.
Mince pies laugh as they leave
cleaving brandy butter to their bosoms.
Trifles tickle tousle with the Christmas pud -
wanton lovers devouring each other, unconcerned.
The turkey and ham, wriggle giggle gravily writhe,
beckoning the mash for a threesome.
The Christmas cake hunts the chocolate orange
for a bit of rough.
But the citric circle is occupied elsewhere,
climatic orgasmic with a coquettish chocolate kimberley.
Lonely, a sad After Eight lazily masturbates.
In the cloakroom, icing and marzipan plan
to run away together, once the night is over.
Upstairs in the back bedroom the whipped cream teases the stuffing
tied with tinsel on the duvet, ecstatically prostate.
Oh fucking hell, its the end of Christmas day
I can't believe all I've ate.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
TFE Poetry Pressie
Yay! Total Feckin' Eejit's poetry fun is Back! Back! Back!
Christmas themed... here is my contribution.
Mr Creosote's Christmas
Predatory Pringles mingle with tipsy tins of Roses.
Roast potatoes dip delightedly into bowls of keys,
Selecting salacious selection boxes,
disappearing together to dark corners.
Sprouts pout wallflowers unwanted, get their coats and go.
Mince pies laugh as they leave
cleaving brandy butter to their bosoms.
Trifles tickle tousle with the Christmas pud -
wanton lovers devouring each other, unconcerned.
The turkey and ham, wriggle giggle gravily writhe,
beckoning the mash for a threesome.
The Christmas cake hunts the chocolate orange
for a bit of rough.
But the citric circle is occupied elsewhere,
climatic orgasmic with a coquettish chocolate kimberley.
Lonely, a sad After Eight lazily masturbates.
In the cloakroom, icing and marzipan plan
to run away together, once the night is over.
Upstairs in the back bedroom the whipped cream teases the stuffing
tied with tinsel on the duvet, ecstatically prostate.
Oh fucking hell, its the end of Christmas day
I can't believe all I've ate.
Christmas themed... here is my contribution.
Mr Creosote's Christmas
Predatory Pringles mingle with tipsy tins of Roses.
Roast potatoes dip delightedly into bowls of keys,
Selecting salacious selection boxes,
disappearing together to dark corners.
Sprouts pout wallflowers unwanted, get their coats and go.
Mince pies laugh as they leave
cleaving brandy butter to their bosoms.
Trifles tickle tousle with the Christmas pud -
wanton lovers devouring each other, unconcerned.
The turkey and ham, wriggle giggle gravily writhe,
beckoning the mash for a threesome.
The Christmas cake hunts the chocolate orange
for a bit of rough.
But the citric circle is occupied elsewhere,
climatic orgasmic with a coquettish chocolate kimberley.
Lonely, a sad After Eight lazily masturbates.
In the cloakroom, icing and marzipan plan
to run away together, once the night is over.
Upstairs in the back bedroom the whipped cream teases the stuffing
tied with tinsel on the duvet, ecstatically prostate.
Oh fucking hell, its the end of Christmas day
I can't believe all I've ate.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
My Weak Week...
I appear to blog once a week. Either a Wednesday or a Thursday.
It takes a week for me to find something to say. And it's debatable whether what I've said was even worth it sometimes.
So, what did this week hold for Oubliette's of the Domestic kind?
Well, I didn't win that competition I was shortlisted for. Obviously my story was far, far, far too good. But it's that cosy blanket of superiority that keeps me warm at night. Sure the winner is out there somewhere, probably rolling naked on a bed over, under and around their winnings. But, they are deluded. They, as well as the judges, don't know that my story was better than theirs, and should have won. When, like a ego crushing blow, the truth dawns, I will be expecting a full written apology and any winnings that can be salvaged from the naked tumblings to be forwarded to me.
What else did I do?
Mr Oubliette and I saw Eddie Izzard at The Point on Monday ( I will not call it the *2) It was about the forth time we'd seen the comic genius. Sadly, we may have overdosed on the Izzard magic and while we enjoyed ourselves, and he was funny, we just weren't loosing control of our bladders as we once would have.. oh well. I had to console myself with onion rings and a 'bacon big boy' from Eddie Rockets afterwards.
Yes, the 'bacon big boy' is as deliciously vile as it sounds. It was worth the vicious assault by my weight watchers leader afterwards. As I drifted out of consciousness as one more blow from the electronic scales rained down on me, I licked my lips and muttered 'bacon'...
The Lovely Lucan Creative Writers had their annual Christmas shindig as well since I last blogged. It was a wonderful evening - visit Becketts in Leixlip, its a gem. We managed to peer pressure Various into drinking - cause she couldn't be in our gang if she wasn't like, cool, and like, drinking - but despite being in the pub till 2 am (well, the stragglers at any rate) it didn't feel quite as mad as previous years. Are we all getting old? Or was the fun just concentrated? Condensed? If you had added water, perhaps we'd still be partying now.
I should go. Junior Oubliette wants to spray fake snow on the windows. And who am I to stop him?
Till next Wed/Thurs.
It takes a week for me to find something to say. And it's debatable whether what I've said was even worth it sometimes.
So, what did this week hold for Oubliette's of the Domestic kind?
Well, I didn't win that competition I was shortlisted for. Obviously my story was far, far, far too good. But it's that cosy blanket of superiority that keeps me warm at night. Sure the winner is out there somewhere, probably rolling naked on a bed over, under and around their winnings. But, they are deluded. They, as well as the judges, don't know that my story was better than theirs, and should have won. When, like a ego crushing blow, the truth dawns, I will be expecting a full written apology and any winnings that can be salvaged from the naked tumblings to be forwarded to me.
What else did I do?
Mr Oubliette and I saw Eddie Izzard at The Point on Monday ( I will not call it the *2) It was about the forth time we'd seen the comic genius. Sadly, we may have overdosed on the Izzard magic and while we enjoyed ourselves, and he was funny, we just weren't loosing control of our bladders as we once would have.. oh well. I had to console myself with onion rings and a 'bacon big boy' from Eddie Rockets afterwards.
Yes, the 'bacon big boy' is as deliciously vile as it sounds. It was worth the vicious assault by my weight watchers leader afterwards. As I drifted out of consciousness as one more blow from the electronic scales rained down on me, I licked my lips and muttered 'bacon'...
The Lovely Lucan Creative Writers had their annual Christmas shindig as well since I last blogged. It was a wonderful evening - visit Becketts in Leixlip, its a gem. We managed to peer pressure Various into drinking - cause she couldn't be in our gang if she wasn't like, cool, and like, drinking - but despite being in the pub till 2 am (well, the stragglers at any rate) it didn't feel quite as mad as previous years. Are we all getting old? Or was the fun just concentrated? Condensed? If you had added water, perhaps we'd still be partying now.
I should go. Junior Oubliette wants to spray fake snow on the windows. And who am I to stop him?
Till next Wed/Thurs.
My Weak Week...
I appear to blog once a week. Either a Wednesday or a Thursday.
It takes a week for me to find something to say. And it's debatable whether what I've said was even worth it sometimes.
So, what did this week hold for Oubliette's of the Domestic kind?
Well, I didn't win that competition I was shortlisted for. Obviously my story was far, far, far too good. But it's that cosy blanket of superiority that keeps me warm at night. Sure the winner is out there somewhere, probably rolling naked on a bed over, under and around their winnings. But, they are deluded. They, as well as the judges, don't know that my story was better than theirs, and should have won. When, like a ego crushing blow, the truth dawns, I will be expecting a full written apology and any winnings that can be salvaged from the naked tumblings to be forwarded to me.
What else did I do?
Mr Oubliette and I saw Eddie Izzard at The Point on Monday ( I will not call it the *2) It was about the forth time we'd seen the comic genius. Sadly, we may have overdosed on the Izzard magic and while we enjoyed ourselves, and he was funny, we just weren't loosing control of our bladders as we once would have.. oh well. I had to console myself with onion rings and a 'bacon big boy' from Eddie Rockets afterwards.
Yes, the 'bacon big boy' is as deliciously vile as it sounds. It was worth the vicious assault by my weight watchers leader afterwards. As I drifted out of consciousness as one more blow from the electronic scales rained down on me, I licked my lips and muttered 'bacon'...
The Lovely Lucan Creative Writers had their annual Christmas shindig as well since I last blogged. It was a wonderful evening - visit Becketts in Leixlip, its a gem. We managed to peer pressure Various into drinking - cause she couldn't be in our gang if she wasn't like, cool, and like, drinking - but despite being in the pub till 2 am (well, the stragglers at any rate) it didn't feel quite as mad as previous years. Are we all getting old? Or was the fun just concentrated? Condensed? If you had added water, perhaps we'd still be partying now.
I should go. Junior Oubliette wants to spray fake snow on the windows. And who am I to stop him?
Till next Wed/Thurs.
It takes a week for me to find something to say. And it's debatable whether what I've said was even worth it sometimes.
So, what did this week hold for Oubliette's of the Domestic kind?
Well, I didn't win that competition I was shortlisted for. Obviously my story was far, far, far too good. But it's that cosy blanket of superiority that keeps me warm at night. Sure the winner is out there somewhere, probably rolling naked on a bed over, under and around their winnings. But, they are deluded. They, as well as the judges, don't know that my story was better than theirs, and should have won. When, like a ego crushing blow, the truth dawns, I will be expecting a full written apology and any winnings that can be salvaged from the naked tumblings to be forwarded to me.
What else did I do?
Mr Oubliette and I saw Eddie Izzard at The Point on Monday ( I will not call it the *2) It was about the forth time we'd seen the comic genius. Sadly, we may have overdosed on the Izzard magic and while we enjoyed ourselves, and he was funny, we just weren't loosing control of our bladders as we once would have.. oh well. I had to console myself with onion rings and a 'bacon big boy' from Eddie Rockets afterwards.
Yes, the 'bacon big boy' is as deliciously vile as it sounds. It was worth the vicious assault by my weight watchers leader afterwards. As I drifted out of consciousness as one more blow from the electronic scales rained down on me, I licked my lips and muttered 'bacon'...
The Lovely Lucan Creative Writers had their annual Christmas shindig as well since I last blogged. It was a wonderful evening - visit Becketts in Leixlip, its a gem. We managed to peer pressure Various into drinking - cause she couldn't be in our gang if she wasn't like, cool, and like, drinking - but despite being in the pub till 2 am (well, the stragglers at any rate) it didn't feel quite as mad as previous years. Are we all getting old? Or was the fun just concentrated? Condensed? If you had added water, perhaps we'd still be partying now.
I should go. Junior Oubliette wants to spray fake snow on the windows. And who am I to stop him?
Till next Wed/Thurs.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Things Domestic Oubliette Learnt since she last posted yesterday...
1) Don't go out for a few drinks with writing buddy and leave hubby alone with baking Christmas Cake.
2) Don't forget that the recipe you're using to bake your cake was written long before fan assisted ovens were even thought of.
3) Don't cry when it burns.
4) Don't go on a crusade over the little things in your child life.
5) When they want you to drop it - sometimes its just right to drop it.
6) Don't stay up watching 'There's Something About Mary' till after midnight. (No matter how funny it is.)
7)Sometime missing your writing targets isn't such a bad thing. Maybe the 900 words you came up with instead of the 4000 you were meant to, could be the best 900 words ever.
8) Sometimes, even if you didn't get slaughtered in a budget doesn't mean it was an okay budget.
9) Though, sometimes things just aren't fair.
10) There is one instance of the phrase 'domestic oubliette' other than my blog on the world wide web. There are no new ideas.
2) Don't forget that the recipe you're using to bake your cake was written long before fan assisted ovens were even thought of.
3) Don't cry when it burns.
4) Don't go on a crusade over the little things in your child life.
5) When they want you to drop it - sometimes its just right to drop it.
6) Don't stay up watching 'There's Something About Mary' till after midnight. (No matter how funny it is.)
7)Sometime missing your writing targets isn't such a bad thing. Maybe the 900 words you came up with instead of the 4000 you were meant to, could be the best 900 words ever.
8) Sometimes, even if you didn't get slaughtered in a budget doesn't mean it was an okay budget.
9) Though, sometimes things just aren't fair.
10) There is one instance of the phrase 'domestic oubliette' other than my blog on the world wide web. There are no new ideas.
Things Domestic Oubliette Learnt since she last posted yesterday...
1) Don't go out for a few drinks with writing buddy and leave hubby alone with baking Christmas Cake.
2) Don't forget that the recipe you're using to bake your cake was written long before fan assisted ovens were even thought of.
3) Don't cry when it burns.
4) Don't go on a crusade over the little things in your child life.
5) When they want you to drop it - sometimes its just right to drop it.
6) Don't stay up watching 'There's Something About Mary' till after midnight. (No matter how funny it is.)
7)Sometime missing your writing targets isn't such a bad thing. Maybe the 900 words you came up with instead of the 4000 you were meant to, could be the best 900 words ever.
8) Sometimes, even if you didn't get slaughtered in a budget doesn't mean it was an okay budget.
9) Though, sometimes things just aren't fair.
10) There is one instance of the phrase 'domestic oubliette' other than my blog on the world wide web. There are no new ideas.
2) Don't forget that the recipe you're using to bake your cake was written long before fan assisted ovens were even thought of.
3) Don't cry when it burns.
4) Don't go on a crusade over the little things in your child life.
5) When they want you to drop it - sometimes its just right to drop it.
6) Don't stay up watching 'There's Something About Mary' till after midnight. (No matter how funny it is.)
7)Sometime missing your writing targets isn't such a bad thing. Maybe the 900 words you came up with instead of the 4000 you were meant to, could be the best 900 words ever.
8) Sometimes, even if you didn't get slaughtered in a budget doesn't mean it was an okay budget.
9) Though, sometimes things just aren't fair.
10) There is one instance of the phrase 'domestic oubliette' other than my blog on the world wide web. There are no new ideas.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Shortlists, Christmas Cakes, Budget Cuts and Chapters to Write. (I've a lot on my mind today)
A lot on my mind.
I should have baked the Christmas cake last October like all the true domestic goddesses. Come Christmas day, my cake will crumble like a Fianna Fail politician in the face of a public service union. 'A bit immature' my mother will say, and I'll want to make like the cake and stamp my foot and storm off to my bedroom.
But, regardless, once I put down this laptop, off I'll trot to my kitchen and start the long, laborious process...
It'll take my mind off this afternoons budget though. 'Everyone' begrudgingly admits that Lenihan is the cleverest of the bunch of them (Not hard that said - my Christmas cake will have more brains than at least 96.7% of FFers.) I wonder what joys this budget will contain - it appears most of it has been leaked. Do hope there are no major surprises. Of course, I wouldn't say no if it contained a provision for all women, say, aged 37, and with an O in their names to get a brand new car. I think this would be a great initiative. We all know that women, aged 37 and with an 'O' in their names are big shoppers, and so, a new car would get them to the shops more often and therefore stimulate the economy. Phew. Goodness. I'm a great economic thinker. Who knew.
I wonder if my eggs are at room temperature yet? (No snickering at the back there.)
Can't start the cake till the eggs are warm.
Can't start till I've blogged either.
Why oh why don't I just buy a bloody cake? Its not as if anyone eats it round here...
So, what else has camped in my brain and is refusing to leave?
Ah, yes, was delighted to receive an email yesterday informing me of a shortlisting for a story wot I wrote for the 'Stop the Clocks' competition that one of the libraries was running there a few months ago. Various had received an email about her shortlisting agessssssssssssss ago, so I was despondent. Down. Drowning in feelings of wretchedness and worthlessness. I hadn't even gotten an acknowledgement of my entry! But, low, and behold. A pretty little email in my inbox yesterday informing me that I was shortlisted after all! Hurrah!
But the scales tipped once more - I won't be able to go on the night to find out who (me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me) has won :( I will have to rely on my arch rival MsV Cushions to let me know what happens... Can she be trusted? I think we all know the answer to that one...
Anyways. I best go.
Because not only do I have a cake to bake (which will take all day, I am not kidding, it is an epic undertaking), a budget to watch, and shortlisting glory to wallow in, but I am meeting writing chum tonight and AS USUAL I have precious little written. 400 words to be precises. Gah. Said I would have 4000. Oh well. So, let see if I can set some targets.
100 words before I collect the kids from school (remember, I have a cake to bake!)
1600 while I watch the budget.
800 After tea, and before chum arrives.
That'd be 2500 written today. Not ideal, but a damn sight better than nothing.
Okay. Must go.
Update:Forgot to get greaseproof paper - have to make a run to the shops. No writing going to be done before lunch :(
Shortlists, Christmas Cakes, Budget Cuts and Chapters to Write. (I've a lot on my mind today)
A lot on my mind.
I should have baked the Christmas cake last October like all the true domestic goddesses. Come Christmas day, my cake will crumble like a Fianna Fail politician in the face of a public service union. 'A bit immature' my mother will say, and I'll want to make like the cake and stamp my foot and storm off to my bedroom.
But, regardless, once I put down this laptop, off I'll trot to my kitchen and start the long, laborious process...
It'll take my mind off this afternoons budget though. 'Everyone' begrudgingly admits that Lenihan is the cleverest of the bunch of them (Not hard that said - my Christmas cake will have more brains than at least 96.7% of FFers.) I wonder what joys this budget will contain - it appears most of it has been leaked. Do hope there are no major surprises. Of course, I wouldn't say no if it contained a provision for all women, say, aged 37, and with an O in their names to get a brand new car. I think this would be a great initiative. We all know that women, aged 37 and with an 'O' in their names are big shoppers, and so, a new car would get them to the shops more often and therefore stimulate the economy. Phew. Goodness. I'm a great economic thinker. Who knew.
I wonder if my eggs are at room temperature yet? (No snickering at the back there.)
Can't start the cake till the eggs are warm.
Can't start till I've blogged either.
Why oh why don't I just buy a bloody cake? Its not as if anyone eats it round here...
So, what else has camped in my brain and is refusing to leave?
Ah, yes, was delighted to receive an email yesterday informing me of a shortlisting for a story wot I wrote for the 'Stop the Clocks' competition that one of the libraries was running there a few months ago. Various had received an email about her shortlisting agessssssssssssss ago, so I was despondent. Down. Drowning in feelings of wretchedness and worthlessness. I hadn't even gotten an acknowledgement of my entry! But, low, and behold. A pretty little email in my inbox yesterday informing me that I was shortlisted after all! Hurrah!
But the scales tipped once more - I won't be able to go on the night to find out who (me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me) has won :( I will have to rely on my arch rival MsV Cushions to let me know what happens... Can she be trusted? I think we all know the answer to that one...
Anyways. I best go.
Because not only do I have a cake to bake (which will take all day, I am not kidding, it is an epic undertaking), a budget to watch, and shortlisting glory to wallow in, but I am meeting writing chum tonight and AS USUAL I have precious little written. 400 words to be precises. Gah. Said I would have 4000. Oh well. So, let see if I can set some targets.
100 words before I collect the kids from school (remember, I have a cake to bake!)
1600 while I watch the budget.
800 After tea, and before chum arrives.
That'd be 2500 written today. Not ideal, but a damn sight better than nothing.
Okay. Must go.
Update:Forgot to get greaseproof paper - have to make a run to the shops. No writing going to be done before lunch :(
Thursday, December 3, 2009
International put your Poem in a Shop Month - The Bandwagon Begins!
Well, I'm nothing if not a follower! Not so great with the original ideas, but not too bad at slavishly following someones else initiative.
Well, MsVarious, there are now TWO poems in shops as of a hour ago. I was pottering about in my fave place - The Orchard Garden Centre and Cafe on the Celbridge road, and I thought - I gotta put a poem in a shop. Of course, the problem was I didn't have a poem. So, over a large Americano, and as the baby poured chocolate milk over herself I penned this instantly forgettable poem...
Nonchalant gnomes, propagation domes,
Homes and Gardens beautiful
Bonsai, Birch, Gerbera, Poinsettia
Cushions, throws, aspirational a-plethora
Coffees and cakes among the shrubs, hoses and rakes
Feed our hunger and thirst.
Outside these high walls, recession calls
But, goddamn, they've got to catch me first.
So, I lurked like a giddy flasher, attempting the oh-so-casual positioning my poem. I felt like I was about to dump toxic waste on a kids playground, the urge not to litter is so strong. But, as Various says, I am adding to the cultural enrichment of our world... ahem. (All comparisons of my poem to toxic waste will be instantly deleted!)
And here's the proof!
Hurray for "International put your Poem in a Shop Month"!
Well, MsVarious, there are now TWO poems in shops as of a hour ago. I was pottering about in my fave place - The Orchard Garden Centre and Cafe on the Celbridge road, and I thought - I gotta put a poem in a shop. Of course, the problem was I didn't have a poem. So, over a large Americano, and as the baby poured chocolate milk over herself I penned this instantly forgettable poem...
Nonchalant gnomes, propagation domes,
Homes and Gardens beautiful
Bonsai, Birch, Gerbera, Poinsettia
Cushions, throws, aspirational a-plethora
Coffees and cakes among the shrubs, hoses and rakes
Feed our hunger and thirst.
Outside these high walls, recession calls
But, goddamn, they've got to catch me first.
So, I lurked like a giddy flasher, attempting the oh-so-casual positioning my poem. I felt like I was about to dump toxic waste on a kids playground, the urge not to litter is so strong. But, as Various says, I am adding to the cultural enrichment of our world... ahem. (All comparisons of my poem to toxic waste will be instantly deleted!)
And here's the proof!
Hurray for "International put your Poem in a Shop Month"!
International put your Poem in a Shop Month - The Bandwagon Begins!
Well, I'm nothing if not a follower! Not so great with the original ideas, but not too bad at slavishly following someones else initiative.
Well, MsVarious, there are now TWO poems in shops as of a hour ago. I was pottering about in my fave place - The Orchard Garden Centre and Cafe on the Celbridge road, and I thought - I gotta put a poem in a shop. Of course, the problem was I didn't have a poem. So, over a large Americano, and as the baby poured chocolate milk over herself I penned this instantly forgettable poem...
Nonchalant gnomes, propagation domes,
Homes and Gardens beautiful
Bonsai, Birch, Gerbera, Poinsettia
Cushions, throws, aspirational a-plethora
Coffees and cakes among the shrubs, hoses and rakes
Feed our hunger and thirst.
Outside these high walls, recession calls
But, goddamn, they've got to catch me first.
So, I lurked like a giddy flasher, attempting the oh-so-casual positioning my poem. I felt like I was about to dump toxic waste on a kids playground, the urge not to litter is so strong. But, as Various says, I am adding to the cultural enrichment of our world... ahem. (All comparisons of my poem to toxic waste will be instantly deleted!)
And here's the proof!
Hurray for "International put your Poem in a Shop Month"!
Well, MsVarious, there are now TWO poems in shops as of a hour ago. I was pottering about in my fave place - The Orchard Garden Centre and Cafe on the Celbridge road, and I thought - I gotta put a poem in a shop. Of course, the problem was I didn't have a poem. So, over a large Americano, and as the baby poured chocolate milk over herself I penned this instantly forgettable poem...
Nonchalant gnomes, propagation domes,
Homes and Gardens beautiful
Bonsai, Birch, Gerbera, Poinsettia
Cushions, throws, aspirational a-plethora
Coffees and cakes among the shrubs, hoses and rakes
Feed our hunger and thirst.
Outside these high walls, recession calls
But, goddamn, they've got to catch me first.
So, I lurked like a giddy flasher, attempting the oh-so-casual positioning my poem. I felt like I was about to dump toxic waste on a kids playground, the urge not to litter is so strong. But, as Various says, I am adding to the cultural enrichment of our world... ahem. (All comparisons of my poem to toxic waste will be instantly deleted!)
And here's the proof!
Hurray for "International put your Poem in a Shop Month"!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
And the results are in!!!!!
Well, I'm not going to try to bluff this one out anymore.
Indeed my dear old friend Dave let the drunken partying cat out of the bag. I have of course been to London, many times, and have partied my once little ass of there...
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
When I was twelve the then Crown Prince, and now Emperor, Akihito and his wife visited Ireland. His wife had been educated by Sacred Heart nuns, so quite fancied visiting a Sacred Heart school here in Ireland. I was educated by Sacred Heart nuns... I think you can fill in the gaps...
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
Check out the last episode on Volume 2 of the Bosco dvd for my mothers wonderful illustrations :)
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
The Hon. Mr Justice J Quirke. First cousin once removed or something... he wouldn't know me from Adam, but I am hoping when my deep dark criminal activities are uncovered I'll come up before dear old Cuz.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
He is.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
Back when I used to give a damn about humanity. Now I say, kill everyone. Wonder would the Times print that one?
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
Has this got to a 'so uncool it's cool' point yet? He got a sodastream out of it...
7) I've never been to London, England.
Mr Oubliette came up with the lie. Honestly. Methinks his talents lie with useless trivia. I guess the questions just didn't suit me...
8) I have taken an overdose.
I was two and a half, and they used to make aspirin that tasted like orange tic-tacs. Stomach-pumping-tastic.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
The Cuban one was a doctor and all! What was I thinking turning him down? He could have learned to love me... Ahem, sorry Mr Oubliette - am so glad it didn't work out, where would I be without my Larry Gogan love kitten...
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Why is God in heaven?
Because he's stuck with glue!
Really, its a brilliant piece of wit. I should have been a stand up.
Indeed my dear old friend Dave let the drunken partying cat out of the bag. I have of course been to London, many times, and have partied my once little ass of there...
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
When I was twelve the then Crown Prince, and now Emperor, Akihito and his wife visited Ireland. His wife had been educated by Sacred Heart nuns, so quite fancied visiting a Sacred Heart school here in Ireland. I was educated by Sacred Heart nuns... I think you can fill in the gaps...
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
Check out the last episode on Volume 2 of the Bosco dvd for my mothers wonderful illustrations :)
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
The Hon. Mr Justice J Quirke. First cousin once removed or something... he wouldn't know me from Adam, but I am hoping when my deep dark criminal activities are uncovered I'll come up before dear old Cuz.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
He is.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
Back when I used to give a damn about humanity. Now I say, kill everyone. Wonder would the Times print that one?
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
Has this got to a 'so uncool it's cool' point yet? He got a sodastream out of it...
7) I've never been to London, England.
Mr Oubliette came up with the lie. Honestly. Methinks his talents lie with useless trivia. I guess the questions just didn't suit me...
8) I have taken an overdose.
I was two and a half, and they used to make aspirin that tasted like orange tic-tacs. Stomach-pumping-tastic.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
The Cuban one was a doctor and all! What was I thinking turning him down? He could have learned to love me... Ahem, sorry Mr Oubliette - am so glad it didn't work out, where would I be without my Larry Gogan love kitten...
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Why is God in heaven?
Because he's stuck with glue!
Really, its a brilliant piece of wit. I should have been a stand up.
And the results are in!!!!!
Well, I'm not going to try to bluff this one out anymore.
Indeed my dear old friend Dave let the drunken partying cat out of the bag. I have of course been to London, many times, and have partied my once little ass of there...
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
When I was twelve the then Crown Prince, and now Emperor, Akihito and his wife visited Ireland. His wife had been educated by Sacred Heart nuns, so quite fancied visiting a Sacred Heart school here in Ireland. I was educated by Sacred Heart nuns... I think you can fill in the gaps...
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
Check out the last episode on Volume 2 of the Bosco dvd for my mothers wonderful illustrations :)
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
The Hon. Mr Justice J Quirke. First cousin once removed or something... he wouldn't know me from Adam, but I am hoping when my deep dark criminal activities are uncovered I'll come up before dear old Cuz.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
He is.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
Back when I used to give a damn about humanity. Now I say, kill everyone. Wonder would the Times print that one?
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
Has this got to a 'so uncool it's cool' point yet? He got a sodastream out of it...
7) I've never been to London, England.
Mr Oubliette came up with the lie. Honestly. Methinks his talents lie with useless trivia. I guess the questions just didn't suit me...
8) I have taken an overdose.
I was two and a half, and they used to make aspirin that tasted like orange tic-tacs. Stomach-pumping-tastic.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
The Cuban one was a doctor and all! What was I thinking turning him down? He could have learned to love me... Ahem, sorry Mr Oubliette - am so glad it didn't work out, where would I be without my Larry Gogan love kitten...
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Why is God in heaven?
Because he's stuck with glue!
Really, its a brilliant piece of wit. I should have been a stand up.
Indeed my dear old friend Dave let the drunken partying cat out of the bag. I have of course been to London, many times, and have partied my once little ass of there...
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
When I was twelve the then Crown Prince, and now Emperor, Akihito and his wife visited Ireland. His wife had been educated by Sacred Heart nuns, so quite fancied visiting a Sacred Heart school here in Ireland. I was educated by Sacred Heart nuns... I think you can fill in the gaps...
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
Check out the last episode on Volume 2 of the Bosco dvd for my mothers wonderful illustrations :)
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
The Hon. Mr Justice J Quirke. First cousin once removed or something... he wouldn't know me from Adam, but I am hoping when my deep dark criminal activities are uncovered I'll come up before dear old Cuz.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
He is.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
Back when I used to give a damn about humanity. Now I say, kill everyone. Wonder would the Times print that one?
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
Has this got to a 'so uncool it's cool' point yet? He got a sodastream out of it...
7) I've never been to London, England.
Mr Oubliette came up with the lie. Honestly. Methinks his talents lie with useless trivia. I guess the questions just didn't suit me...
8) I have taken an overdose.
I was two and a half, and they used to make aspirin that tasted like orange tic-tacs. Stomach-pumping-tastic.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
The Cuban one was a doctor and all! What was I thinking turning him down? He could have learned to love me... Ahem, sorry Mr Oubliette - am so glad it didn't work out, where would I be without my Larry Gogan love kitten...
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Why is God in heaven?
Because he's stuck with glue!
Really, its a brilliant piece of wit. I should have been a stand up.
Odd One Out! (Yes, me too!)
I'm most intrigued by this latest craze sweeping blogland.
Ten facts about yourself. One of which is false. Can you guess which one??
Here are my ten - which one is nonsense?
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
7) I've never been to London, England.
8) I have taken an overdose.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Ten facts about yourself. One of which is false. Can you guess which one??
Here are my ten - which one is nonsense?
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
7) I've never been to London, England.
8) I have taken an overdose.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Odd One Out! (Yes, me too!)
I'm most intrigued by this latest craze sweeping blogland.
Ten facts about yourself. One of which is false. Can you guess which one??
Here are my ten - which one is nonsense?
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
7) I've never been to London, England.
8) I have taken an overdose.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Ten facts about yourself. One of which is false. Can you guess which one??
Here are my ten - which one is nonsense?
1) I have bowed to the Emperor of Japan.
2) My mother drew pictures for Bosco.
3) My cousin is a High Court judge.
4) The most senior Garda in Ireland is my neighbour.
5) I had a letter condemning the death penalty published in the Irish Times.
6) I am married to a Larry Gogan's Just A Minute quiz yearly finalist.
7) I've never been to London, England.
8) I have taken an overdose.
9) I have been proposed to twice by men wanting to escape different oppressive communist regimes.
10)When I was three I told jokes about God.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I should be doing something else
I'm blogging as usual because I should be doing something else. Anything else. The baby is in her pyjamas still and it is 11 am. I, you'll be glad to hear, am dressed.
The TV is on - children's chirpy chirpy smiley smiley smack them all in the gob telly. We watch too much telly in this house. When I refused to put it on the other day, the baby checked the scart cables to see if that was why it wouldn't come on. I am serious. I was part proud. Part shamed.
So, here specifically is what I 'm avoiding
1) Dressing baby.
2) Writing my novel.
I have my Millionaire Authors Club meeting tonight. Its been about three weeks since we last met and I haven't written a word. And, yet, with the clock ticking Poe-like, I'm still not putting finger to keyboard. And I only have two chapters left of my epic boooook. You'd think I'd put everyone out of their misery and just finished the horrid thing.
But no, I procrastinate still.
Here's a haiku about my problem. But that said I'm feeling too lazy to even google the rules of haiku so its probably not really even a proper one. I could just call it a very short poem?
Sigh. Even the telly is boring baby now - she's rolling on the floor humming to herself. Sorta like the mad polar bears in Dublin zoo who used to just walk up and down and up and down, swaying gently, insanely.
Okay. baby steps.
700 words before one o'clock. Break. Coffee, lunch etc. Pick up elder Oubliette spawn. 700 words while they chillax after their tough day at school. Feed and shout at the children till about 6pm. Then 700 words before 8 o'clock when I must depart for M.A.C. That would have the chapter finished.
I can do it!
Perhaps.
Update: 1000 words done by 1 o'clock! We're ahead of schedule. Time for coffee.
Update 2: 1500 by dinner time...
Update 3: 2600 words by 8 o'clock! Hurrah! And chapter finished!
The TV is on - children's chirpy chirpy smiley smiley smack them all in the gob telly. We watch too much telly in this house. When I refused to put it on the other day, the baby checked the scart cables to see if that was why it wouldn't come on. I am serious. I was part proud. Part shamed.
So, here specifically is what I 'm avoiding
1) Dressing baby.
2) Writing my novel.
I have my Millionaire Authors Club meeting tonight. Its been about three weeks since we last met and I haven't written a word. And, yet, with the clock ticking Poe-like, I'm still not putting finger to keyboard. And I only have two chapters left of my epic boooook. You'd think I'd put everyone out of their misery and just finished the horrid thing.
But no, I procrastinate still.
Here's a haiku about my problem. But that said I'm feeling too lazy to even google the rules of haiku so its probably not really even a proper one. I could just call it a very short poem?
120,000 words
inertia seeps
no book deal for me.
inertia seeps
no book deal for me.
Sigh. Even the telly is boring baby now - she's rolling on the floor humming to herself. Sorta like the mad polar bears in Dublin zoo who used to just walk up and down and up and down, swaying gently, insanely.
Okay. baby steps.
700 words before one o'clock. Break. Coffee, lunch etc. Pick up elder Oubliette spawn. 700 words while they chillax after their tough day at school. Feed and shout at the children till about 6pm. Then 700 words before 8 o'clock when I must depart for M.A.C. That would have the chapter finished.
I can do it!
Perhaps.
Update: 1000 words done by 1 o'clock! We're ahead of schedule. Time for coffee.
Update 2: 1500 by dinner time...
Update 3: 2600 words by 8 o'clock! Hurrah! And chapter finished!
I should be doing something else
I'm blogging as usual because I should be doing something else. Anything else. The baby is in her pyjamas still and it is 11 am. I, you'll be glad to hear, am dressed.
The TV is on - children's chirpy chirpy smiley smiley smack them all in the gob telly. We watch too much telly in this house. When I refused to put it on the other day, the baby checked the scart cables to see if that was why it wouldn't come on. I am serious. I was part proud. Part shamed.
So, here specifically is what I 'm avoiding
1) Dressing baby.
2) Writing my novel.
I have my Millionaire Authors Club meeting tonight. Its been about three weeks since we last met and I haven't written a word. And, yet, with the clock ticking Poe-like, I'm still not putting finger to keyboard. And I only have two chapters left of my epic boooook. You'd think I'd put everyone out of their misery and just finished the horrid thing.
But no, I procrastinate still.
Here's a haiku about my problem. But that said I'm feeling too lazy to even google the rules of haiku so its probably not really even a proper one. I could just call it a very short poem?
Sigh. Even the telly is boring baby now - she's rolling on the floor humming to herself. Sorta like the mad polar bears in Dublin zoo who used to just walk up and down and up and down, swaying gently, insanely.
Okay. baby steps.
700 words before one o'clock. Break. Coffee, lunch etc. Pick up elder Oubliette spawn. 700 words while they chillax after their tough day at school. Feed and shout at the children till about 6pm. Then 700 words before 8 o'clock when I must depart for M.A.C. That would have the chapter finished.
I can do it!
Perhaps.
Update: 1000 words done by 1 o'clock! We're ahead of schedule. Time for coffee.
Update 2: 1500 by dinner time...
Update 3: 2600 words by 8 o'clock! Hurrah! And chapter finished!
The TV is on - children's chirpy chirpy smiley smiley smack them all in the gob telly. We watch too much telly in this house. When I refused to put it on the other day, the baby checked the scart cables to see if that was why it wouldn't come on. I am serious. I was part proud. Part shamed.
So, here specifically is what I 'm avoiding
1) Dressing baby.
2) Writing my novel.
I have my Millionaire Authors Club meeting tonight. Its been about three weeks since we last met and I haven't written a word. And, yet, with the clock ticking Poe-like, I'm still not putting finger to keyboard. And I only have two chapters left of my epic boooook. You'd think I'd put everyone out of their misery and just finished the horrid thing.
But no, I procrastinate still.
Here's a haiku about my problem. But that said I'm feeling too lazy to even google the rules of haiku so its probably not really even a proper one. I could just call it a very short poem?
120,000 words
inertia seeps
no book deal for me.
inertia seeps
no book deal for me.
Sigh. Even the telly is boring baby now - she's rolling on the floor humming to herself. Sorta like the mad polar bears in Dublin zoo who used to just walk up and down and up and down, swaying gently, insanely.
Okay. baby steps.
700 words before one o'clock. Break. Coffee, lunch etc. Pick up elder Oubliette spawn. 700 words while they chillax after their tough day at school. Feed and shout at the children till about 6pm. Then 700 words before 8 o'clock when I must depart for M.A.C. That would have the chapter finished.
I can do it!
Perhaps.
Update: 1000 words done by 1 o'clock! We're ahead of schedule. Time for coffee.
Update 2: 1500 by dinner time...
Update 3: 2600 words by 8 o'clock! Hurrah! And chapter finished!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Drama Queen
Our wonderful friend Joan left us yesterday. We all knew she was unwell, but no one expected to lose her so suddenly. Without her, we won't laugh as heartily again. Without her, we won't face life with quite so much courage. Without her, our world has lost it most vibrant colours. We miss you and love you Drama Queen.
Drama Queen
Our wonderful friend Joan left us yesterday. We all knew she was unwell, but no one expected to lose her so suddenly. Without her, we won't laugh as heartily again. Without her, we won't face life with quite so much courage. Without her, our world has lost it most vibrant colours. We miss you and love you Drama Queen.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
X-Factor and the meaning of life
Apparently Jeward went to the same school as the Oubliette boys.
The Oubliette boys are thrilled with this information as they are possibly the twins biggest fans. There are tense and difficult arguments in the Oubliette household about the merits of performance versus talent. The kids come down on the side of spectacle, I say, in the end, its got to be about the talent. And Mr Oubliette tears out what little hair is left, tears streaming down his face, wailing and gnashing of teeth begging not to be made watch any more of this rubbish.
Middle philosophical child has decided one thing though that we can all agree upon. He reckons Simon Cowell is unlikely to get into heaven.
The gospel message a few weeks ago - the old rich man, eye of a needle story - made a big impression on him. He felt torn recently when I told him Consultants, of the medical kind, make a lot of money. He thought about it for a while, then decided that as they spend their time helping people, even though they are paid lots of money, they may still get to their eternal reward.
Older, megalomaniac Oubliette son - ironically utterly corrupted by his communion money - has been noticeably silent on the topic.
Anyway, with this recession, there is little fear of this become a problem for the Oubliettes anytime soon.
The Oubliette boys are thrilled with this information as they are possibly the twins biggest fans. There are tense and difficult arguments in the Oubliette household about the merits of performance versus talent. The kids come down on the side of spectacle, I say, in the end, its got to be about the talent. And Mr Oubliette tears out what little hair is left, tears streaming down his face, wailing and gnashing of teeth begging not to be made watch any more of this rubbish.
Middle philosophical child has decided one thing though that we can all agree upon. He reckons Simon Cowell is unlikely to get into heaven.
The gospel message a few weeks ago - the old rich man, eye of a needle story - made a big impression on him. He felt torn recently when I told him Consultants, of the medical kind, make a lot of money. He thought about it for a while, then decided that as they spend their time helping people, even though they are paid lots of money, they may still get to their eternal reward.
Older, megalomaniac Oubliette son - ironically utterly corrupted by his communion money - has been noticeably silent on the topic.
Anyway, with this recession, there is little fear of this become a problem for the Oubliettes anytime soon.
X-Factor and the meaning of life
Apparently Jeward went to the same school as the Oubliette boys.
The Oubliette boys are thrilled with this information as they are possibly the twins biggest fans. There are tense and difficult arguments in the Oubliette household about the merits of performance versus talent. The kids come down on the side of spectacle, I say, in the end, its got to be about the talent. And Mr Oubliette tears out what little hair is left, tears streaming down his face, wailing and gnashing of teeth begging not to be made watch any more of this rubbish.
Middle philosophical child has decided one thing though that we can all agree upon. He reckons Simon Cowell is unlikely to get into heaven.
The gospel message a few weeks ago - the old rich man, eye of a needle story - made a big impression on him. He felt torn recently when I told him Consultants, of the medical kind, make a lot of money. He thought about it for a while, then decided that as they spend their time helping people, even though they are paid lots of money, they may still get to their eternal reward.
Older, megalomaniac Oubliette son - ironically utterly corrupted by his communion money - has been noticeably silent on the topic.
Anyway, with this recession, there is little fear of this become a problem for the Oubliettes anytime soon.
The Oubliette boys are thrilled with this information as they are possibly the twins biggest fans. There are tense and difficult arguments in the Oubliette household about the merits of performance versus talent. The kids come down on the side of spectacle, I say, in the end, its got to be about the talent. And Mr Oubliette tears out what little hair is left, tears streaming down his face, wailing and gnashing of teeth begging not to be made watch any more of this rubbish.
Middle philosophical child has decided one thing though that we can all agree upon. He reckons Simon Cowell is unlikely to get into heaven.
The gospel message a few weeks ago - the old rich man, eye of a needle story - made a big impression on him. He felt torn recently when I told him Consultants, of the medical kind, make a lot of money. He thought about it for a while, then decided that as they spend their time helping people, even though they are paid lots of money, they may still get to their eternal reward.
Older, megalomaniac Oubliette son - ironically utterly corrupted by his communion money - has been noticeably silent on the topic.
Anyway, with this recession, there is little fear of this become a problem for the Oubliettes anytime soon.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Brrrr....
I'm bloody freezing. Mr Oubliette has man flu. Baby Oubliette is master classing tantrums.
And with no Poetry Bus to force me to write, I'm not creating anything.
Other than resentment.
I need to go to the shops. With man-flu victim at home, I can do this without the company of crazy baby diva. But, it's only the heat from the (now fixed) laptop battery that's keeping me warm. If I throw off my electronic hot water bottle, then I'll freeze solid. And that's before I even leave the house.
Truly, I have a difficult life.
And maybe I'll even shop unwisely if I ever get to the shops because I'm feeling cold. I might buy chocolate. And cake. And biscuits. My body crying out for the energy they'd provide, to warm me up. Ruin the diet that's only about three hours old.
Disaster.
Any tips on how I can resolve this incredibly awful dilemma will be gratefully received.
And with no Poetry Bus to force me to write, I'm not creating anything.
Other than resentment.
I need to go to the shops. With man-flu victim at home, I can do this without the company of crazy baby diva. But, it's only the heat from the (now fixed) laptop battery that's keeping me warm. If I throw off my electronic hot water bottle, then I'll freeze solid. And that's before I even leave the house.
Truly, I have a difficult life.
And maybe I'll even shop unwisely if I ever get to the shops because I'm feeling cold. I might buy chocolate. And cake. And biscuits. My body crying out for the energy they'd provide, to warm me up. Ruin the diet that's only about three hours old.
Disaster.
Any tips on how I can resolve this incredibly awful dilemma will be gratefully received.
Brrrr....
I'm bloody freezing. Mr Oubliette has man flu. Baby Oubliette is master classing tantrums.
And with no Poetry Bus to force me to write, I'm not creating anything.
Other than resentment.
I need to go to the shops. With man-flu victim at home, I can do this without the company of crazy baby diva. But, it's only the heat from the (now fixed) laptop battery that's keeping me warm. If I throw off my electronic hot water bottle, then I'll freeze solid. And that's before I even leave the house.
Truly, I have a difficult life.
And maybe I'll even shop unwisely if I ever get to the shops because I'm feeling cold. I might buy chocolate. And cake. And biscuits. My body crying out for the energy they'd provide, to warm me up. Ruin the diet that's only about three hours old.
Disaster.
Any tips on how I can resolve this incredibly awful dilemma will be gratefully received.
And with no Poetry Bus to force me to write, I'm not creating anything.
Other than resentment.
I need to go to the shops. With man-flu victim at home, I can do this without the company of crazy baby diva. But, it's only the heat from the (now fixed) laptop battery that's keeping me warm. If I throw off my electronic hot water bottle, then I'll freeze solid. And that's before I even leave the house.
Truly, I have a difficult life.
And maybe I'll even shop unwisely if I ever get to the shops because I'm feeling cold. I might buy chocolate. And cake. And biscuits. My body crying out for the energy they'd provide, to warm me up. Ruin the diet that's only about three hours old.
Disaster.
Any tips on how I can resolve this incredibly awful dilemma will be gratefully received.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Laptop RIP
Ill laptops - its a theme. First poor Various Cushion suffered the demise of her laptop - now in a case of laptop swine flu, my one has fallen over.
How am I posting, you may ask?
Well, techy Mr Oubliette has worked it so that I get a few minutes on the machine before it dies again. And what am I doing while I have these precious few minutes? Replying to emails that are backing up? No. Doing some writing of the great Irish novel? No.
Instead I am blogging and getting my fix of celeb gossip. Cause, like I'll fall apart if I don't know what John and Edward are getting up to right now!! (Of course I don't need an internet connection to know what they're doing - they're being deluded yet strangely entertaining 24/7 I suspect.)
But there you go.
I should attempt the Everest that is my email now. Wish me luck.
And if you hear a loud bang coming from the west part of Dublin - that'll be the laptop going again.
How am I posting, you may ask?
Well, techy Mr Oubliette has worked it so that I get a few minutes on the machine before it dies again. And what am I doing while I have these precious few minutes? Replying to emails that are backing up? No. Doing some writing of the great Irish novel? No.
Instead I am blogging and getting my fix of celeb gossip. Cause, like I'll fall apart if I don't know what John and Edward are getting up to right now!! (Of course I don't need an internet connection to know what they're doing - they're being deluded yet strangely entertaining 24/7 I suspect.)
But there you go.
I should attempt the Everest that is my email now. Wish me luck.
And if you hear a loud bang coming from the west part of Dublin - that'll be the laptop going again.
Laptop RIP
Ill laptops - its a theme. First poor Various Cushion suffered the demise of her laptop - now in a case of laptop swine flu, my one has fallen over.
How am I posting, you may ask?
Well, techy Mr Oubliette has worked it so that I get a few minutes on the machine before it dies again. And what am I doing while I have these precious few minutes? Replying to emails that are backing up? No. Doing some writing of the great Irish novel? No.
Instead I am blogging and getting my fix of celeb gossip. Cause, like I'll fall apart if I don't know what John and Edward are getting up to right now!! (Of course I don't need an internet connection to know what they're doing - they're being deluded yet strangely entertaining 24/7 I suspect.)
But there you go.
I should attempt the Everest that is my email now. Wish me luck.
And if you hear a loud bang coming from the west part of Dublin - that'll be the laptop going again.
How am I posting, you may ask?
Well, techy Mr Oubliette has worked it so that I get a few minutes on the machine before it dies again. And what am I doing while I have these precious few minutes? Replying to emails that are backing up? No. Doing some writing of the great Irish novel? No.
Instead I am blogging and getting my fix of celeb gossip. Cause, like I'll fall apart if I don't know what John and Edward are getting up to right now!! (Of course I don't need an internet connection to know what they're doing - they're being deluded yet strangely entertaining 24/7 I suspect.)
But there you go.
I should attempt the Everest that is my email now. Wish me luck.
And if you hear a loud bang coming from the west part of Dublin - that'll be the laptop going again.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Worst of times, Best of times
It was one of those days.
I woke up with a headache. Its just going to be a struggle when you greet the day with a thumping jackhammer in your head.
Also, my alarm didn't go off, so the kids were late to school.
They then came home from school with a note saying a pupil has come down with swine flu.
I opened the car door too quickly and bashed my head (yes, that really helped with the headache.)
The wan behind the desk told me that the kids were filed under Tuesday for their swimming lessons and the Monday was all booked up, despite the fact they've been coming to swimming on a Monday for a year. Oh yeah, and this was somehow my fault.
I was too tired to get into town tonight to see the wonderful David Mohan and Colm Keegan read at the Glór sessions.
Hubby was v late home from work (yet another crisis!)
The wine ran out.
I have given up coffee.
The baby turned on the hot tap when I wasn't looking when she was having her bath. Could have scalded herself and I'd have had no one to blame but myself.
I had no inspiration for TFE's poetry bus. I was left winded and gasping for breath as it pulled away from the stop without me.
Of course, I shouldn't be such a misery guts! I should look at it this way...
I have a head - and though it hurts sometime, its something many people would be very happy to have (For example, many victims of the French Revolution.)
I have three lovely children. They have a school to go to. (This gives me free time to go to cafes and meet lovely friends! Hi DramaQueen! Hi DublinDave! Hi Weir Cafe!)
My children (as yet) do not have swine flu.
I bashed my bonce while going to a cafe to meet lovely friends (Hi DramaQueen! Hi DublinDave! Hi WeirCafe!)
Does it really matter whether swimming lessons are on a Monday or a Tuesday? I'm still down nearly 200 quid and the land lubbers are still rubbish at it, no matter what the day.
So, I missed one Glór session - at least I didn't have have my hair fondled by an odd old bloke who I will then have to run into in the butchers the next day...
Early hubby, or late hubby - does it really matter, in the end, he came home, made me a cup of tea and put the kids to bed.
Wine is bad for me.
Coffee is bad for me.
At least the baby didn't scald herself.
I think TFE will manage just fine without my genius for just this once.
There we go. So, like a cheap chick lit novel its all worked out for everyone in the end, and I think its fair to say, we've all grown as people.
C'mon Tuesday, do your worst. Or best, I should say.
Worst of times, Best of times
It was one of those days.
I woke up with a headache. Its just going to be a struggle when you greet the day with a thumping jackhammer in your head.
Also, my alarm didn't go off, so the kids were late to school.
They then came home from school with a note saying a pupil has come down with swine flu.
I opened the car door too quickly and bashed my head (yes, that really helped with the headache.)
The wan behind the desk told me that the kids were filed under Tuesday for their swimming lessons and the Monday was all booked up, despite the fact they've been coming to swimming on a Monday for a year. Oh yeah, and this was somehow my fault.
I was too tired to get into town tonight to see the wonderful David Mohan and Colm Keegan read at the Glór sessions.
Hubby was v late home from work (yet another crisis!)
The wine ran out.
I have given up coffee.
The baby turned on the hot tap when I wasn't looking when she was having her bath. Could have scalded herself and I'd have had no one to blame but myself.
I had no inspiration for TFE's poetry bus. I was left winded and gasping for breath as it pulled away from the stop without me.
Of course, I shouldn't be such a misery guts! I should look at it this way...
I have a head - and though it hurts sometime, its something many people would be very happy to have (For example, many victims of the French Revolution.)
I have three lovely children. They have a school to go to. (This gives me free time to go to cafes and meet lovely friends! Hi DramaQueen! Hi DublinDave! Hi Weir Cafe!)
My children (as yet) do not have swine flu.
I bashed my bonce while going to a cafe to meet lovely friends (Hi DramaQueen! Hi DublinDave! Hi WeirCafe!)
Does it really matter whether swimming lessons are on a Monday or a Tuesday? I'm still down nearly 200 quid and the land lubbers are still rubbish at it, no matter what the day.
So, I missed one Glór session - at least I didn't have have my hair fondled by an odd old bloke who I will then have to run into in the butchers the next day...
Early hubby, or late hubby - does it really matter, in the end, he came home, made me a cup of tea and put the kids to bed.
Wine is bad for me.
Coffee is bad for me.
At least the baby didn't scald herself.
I think TFE will manage just fine without my genius for just this once.
There we go. So, like a cheap chick lit novel its all worked out for everyone in the end, and I think its fair to say, we've all grown as people.
C'mon Tuesday, do your worst. Or best, I should say.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Only three Chapters to go...
Ah life, so busy.
Am just back in after meeting my book writing partner tonight. As avid readers of my blog (all mythical masses of you) will know, I meet weekly(ish) with said partner in an atmosphere of mutual support, encouragement and threat, in an attempt to finish our books. He has abandoned one book after 60/80k words and is now on a new one. Brave man! I on the other hand, am limping pathetically through the longest gestation for a simple light and frothy book ever. I've hit about 110k words now myself, which I am delighted and amazed with, and have only 12k left before a first draft is accomplished.
Then the redraft.
Then the dumping in the bin and the wailing and gnashing of teeth at the wasted years.
(Then hopefully the retrieval from the bin, the sending to a publisher, the discovery as amazing new Irish writing talent and then the millions of euro rolling in.)
Can't wait.
Am just back in after meeting my book writing partner tonight. As avid readers of my blog (all mythical masses of you) will know, I meet weekly(ish) with said partner in an atmosphere of mutual support, encouragement and threat, in an attempt to finish our books. He has abandoned one book after 60/80k words and is now on a new one. Brave man! I on the other hand, am limping pathetically through the longest gestation for a simple light and frothy book ever. I've hit about 110k words now myself, which I am delighted and amazed with, and have only 12k left before a first draft is accomplished.
Then the redraft.
Then the dumping in the bin and the wailing and gnashing of teeth at the wasted years.
(Then hopefully the retrieval from the bin, the sending to a publisher, the discovery as amazing new Irish writing talent and then the millions of euro rolling in.)
Can't wait.
Only three Chapters to go...
Ah life, so busy.
Am just back in after meeting my book writing partner tonight. As avid readers of my blog (all mythical masses of you) will know, I meet weekly(ish) with said partner in an atmosphere of mutual support, encouragement and threat, in an attempt to finish our books. He has abandoned one book after 60/80k words and is now on a new one. Brave man! I on the other hand, am limping pathetically through the longest gestation for a simple light and frothy book ever. I've hit about 110k words now myself, which I am delighted and amazed with, and have only 12k left before a first draft is accomplished.
Then the redraft.
Then the dumping in the bin and the wailing and gnashing of teeth at the wasted years.
(Then hopefully the retrieval from the bin, the sending to a publisher, the discovery as amazing new Irish writing talent and then the millions of euro rolling in.)
Can't wait.
Am just back in after meeting my book writing partner tonight. As avid readers of my blog (all mythical masses of you) will know, I meet weekly(ish) with said partner in an atmosphere of mutual support, encouragement and threat, in an attempt to finish our books. He has abandoned one book after 60/80k words and is now on a new one. Brave man! I on the other hand, am limping pathetically through the longest gestation for a simple light and frothy book ever. I've hit about 110k words now myself, which I am delighted and amazed with, and have only 12k left before a first draft is accomplished.
Then the redraft.
Then the dumping in the bin and the wailing and gnashing of teeth at the wasted years.
(Then hopefully the retrieval from the bin, the sending to a publisher, the discovery as amazing new Irish writing talent and then the millions of euro rolling in.)
Can't wait.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday Poem
Here we go with TFE's last minute challenge... The pic below is the one I used...
Us.
Grey gathers overhead.
the first drops, drip.
Our very own private hurricane.
Ravenous gales rush the kitchen
A twister kicks and smashes like a skinheaded yob
through our living room
The eye of the storm sits quietly on our bed.
I run for cover under a table,
but you dance, waltz, foxtrot, jive with the storm.
Exhausted, eventually, it leaves.
It always does.
And after, we pick up the pieces,
wooden splinters stabbing our palms
glass shards embedding in our knees
rats and stagnant filthy water squelch underfoot.
You smile and say its great
You feel alive
I nod, damp and sore.
Us.
Grey gathers overhead.
the first drops, drip.
Our very own private hurricane.
Ravenous gales rush the kitchen
A twister kicks and smashes like a skinheaded yob
through our living room
The eye of the storm sits quietly on our bed.
I run for cover under a table,
but you dance, waltz, foxtrot, jive with the storm.
Exhausted, eventually, it leaves.
It always does.
And after, we pick up the pieces,
wooden splinters stabbing our palms
glass shards embedding in our knees
rats and stagnant filthy water squelch underfoot.
You smile and say its great
You feel alive
I nod, damp and sore.
Monday Poem
Here we go with TFE's last minute challenge... The pic below is the one I used...
Us.
Grey gathers overhead.
the first drops, drip.
Our very own private hurricane.
Ravenous gales rush the kitchen
A twister kicks and smashes like a skinheaded yob
through our living room
The eye of the storm sits quietly on our bed.
I run for cover under a table,
but you dance, waltz, foxtrot, jive with the storm.
Exhausted, eventually, it leaves.
It always does.
And after, we pick up the pieces,
wooden splinters stabbing our palms
glass shards embedding in our knees
rats and stagnant filthy water squelch underfoot.
You smile and say its great
You feel alive
I nod, damp and sore.
Us.
Grey gathers overhead.
the first drops, drip.
Our very own private hurricane.
Ravenous gales rush the kitchen
A twister kicks and smashes like a skinheaded yob
through our living room
The eye of the storm sits quietly on our bed.
I run for cover under a table,
but you dance, waltz, foxtrot, jive with the storm.
Exhausted, eventually, it leaves.
It always does.
And after, we pick up the pieces,
wooden splinters stabbing our palms
glass shards embedding in our knees
rats and stagnant filthy water squelch underfoot.
You smile and say its great
You feel alive
I nod, damp and sore.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Help! I think Paris Hilton is possesing my child..
As a parent you do your best. You try to raise your kids right. Its tough in this day and age, but, I have to say I modestly thought I was doing an alright job.
Pride, fall etc, etc.
So, I decide to check the eldest Oubliette's homework this morning, just to be sure he'd done what he should have last night. Mondays are our busiest day, so sometimes something slips through the cracks.
Part of his home work was to fill out a page in his 'All About Me' book. This has been an on going project since the start of school four weeks ago and has produced such classics as:
Q-"When were you the most disappointed?"
A- "When I first had homework."
Q-"What have you learned to never do?"
A- "Read while walking."
So, below is what I found written in this morning..
It's like Paris Hilton's mission statement! What kind of child am I raising?? Where is the 'Help the poor,' 'Become a doctor,' 'Cure cancer'???
Sigh.
Pride, fall etc, etc.
So, I decide to check the eldest Oubliette's homework this morning, just to be sure he'd done what he should have last night. Mondays are our busiest day, so sometimes something slips through the cracks.
Part of his home work was to fill out a page in his 'All About Me' book. This has been an on going project since the start of school four weeks ago and has produced such classics as:
Q-"When were you the most disappointed?"
A- "When I first had homework."
Q-"What have you learned to never do?"
A- "Read while walking."
So, below is what I found written in this morning..
It's like Paris Hilton's mission statement! What kind of child am I raising?? Where is the 'Help the poor,' 'Become a doctor,' 'Cure cancer'???
Sigh.
Help! I think Paris Hilton is possesing my child..
As a parent you do your best. You try to raise your kids right. Its tough in this day and age, but, I have to say I modestly thought I was doing an alright job.
Pride, fall etc, etc.
So, I decide to check the eldest Oubliette's homework this morning, just to be sure he'd done what he should have last night. Mondays are our busiest day, so sometimes something slips through the cracks.
Part of his home work was to fill out a page in his 'All About Me' book. This has been an on going project since the start of school four weeks ago and has produced such classics as:
Q-"When were you the most disappointed?"
A- "When I first had homework."
Q-"What have you learned to never do?"
A- "Read while walking."
So, below is what I found written in this morning..
It's like Paris Hilton's mission statement! What kind of child am I raising?? Where is the 'Help the poor,' 'Become a doctor,' 'Cure cancer'???
Sigh.
Pride, fall etc, etc.
So, I decide to check the eldest Oubliette's homework this morning, just to be sure he'd done what he should have last night. Mondays are our busiest day, so sometimes something slips through the cracks.
Part of his home work was to fill out a page in his 'All About Me' book. This has been an on going project since the start of school four weeks ago and has produced such classics as:
Q-"When were you the most disappointed?"
A- "When I first had homework."
Q-"What have you learned to never do?"
A- "Read while walking."
So, below is what I found written in this morning..
It's like Paris Hilton's mission statement! What kind of child am I raising?? Where is the 'Help the poor,' 'Become a doctor,' 'Cure cancer'???
Sigh.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Its Monday, its Total Fecking Poetry
My effort this week isn't the genius epic I promised Drama Queen this morning via text message. She told me she had something for TFE's poetry challenge and I predicted that my ditty would be quite frankly, spectacular.
I may have been a little bit optimistic.
I hadn't time to really sit down this week and create, so in the end, this afternoon, I did a sort of stream of consciousness sort of thing, and I cut out a middle section which was the most coherent. (It was kicked off when looking at the fishermen picture, not that you'd know it from the result..)
Here you go...
God is shuffling by your door
crouching, peering through the keyhole
don't move a muscle.
Return your darkness to its lacquered box,
put it high upon its shelf
simpering to the dust.
Trust that no one else knew either.
Go now, flow by,
its been enough to try.
I may have been a little bit optimistic.
I hadn't time to really sit down this week and create, so in the end, this afternoon, I did a sort of stream of consciousness sort of thing, and I cut out a middle section which was the most coherent. (It was kicked off when looking at the fishermen picture, not that you'd know it from the result..)
Here you go...
God is shuffling by your door
crouching, peering through the keyhole
don't move a muscle.
Return your darkness to its lacquered box,
put it high upon its shelf
simpering to the dust.
Trust that no one else knew either.
Go now, flow by,
its been enough to try.
Its Monday, its Total Fecking Poetry
My effort this week isn't the genius epic I promised Drama Queen this morning via text message. She told me she had something for TFE's poetry challenge and I predicted that my ditty would be quite frankly, spectacular.
I may have been a little bit optimistic.
I hadn't time to really sit down this week and create, so in the end, this afternoon, I did a sort of stream of consciousness sort of thing, and I cut out a middle section which was the most coherent. (It was kicked off when looking at the fishermen picture, not that you'd know it from the result..)
Here you go...
God is shuffling by your door
crouching, peering through the keyhole
don't move a muscle.
Return your darkness to its lacquered box,
put it high upon its shelf
simpering to the dust.
Trust that no one else knew either.
Go now, flow by,
its been enough to try.
I may have been a little bit optimistic.
I hadn't time to really sit down this week and create, so in the end, this afternoon, I did a sort of stream of consciousness sort of thing, and I cut out a middle section which was the most coherent. (It was kicked off when looking at the fishermen picture, not that you'd know it from the result..)
Here you go...
God is shuffling by your door
crouching, peering through the keyhole
don't move a muscle.
Return your darkness to its lacquered box,
put it high upon its shelf
simpering to the dust.
Trust that no one else knew either.
Go now, flow by,
its been enough to try.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Square Eyes...
I have discovered the reason why I've not been posting much lately.
Its not that I haven't been doing much. No. The Oubliette experience is so rich and varied that I had a near collapse from exhaustion last evening, swoon, from doing too much.
No, the reason I haven't been blogging much is Sky+. Well, more accurately, NTLs version of Sky+ and more specifically yet - Series link. All those shows - pointless, brainless shows that I'd watch if they happened to be on and I was in front of the telly, are now only a few button presses away... As if I didn't waste enough of my life doing pointless things...
Of course this has given you all a lovely break from my ramblings, but I despair. I have so little self-discipline in life as it is, why tempt me with this technology and remove my last vestiges of effort.
Oh. Well.
Hmmm.
Must go, I have a couple of episodes of Property Snakes and Ladders taped...
Its not that I haven't been doing much. No. The Oubliette experience is so rich and varied that I had a near collapse from exhaustion last evening, swoon, from doing too much.
No, the reason I haven't been blogging much is Sky+. Well, more accurately, NTLs version of Sky+ and more specifically yet - Series link. All those shows - pointless, brainless shows that I'd watch if they happened to be on and I was in front of the telly, are now only a few button presses away... As if I didn't waste enough of my life doing pointless things...
Of course this has given you all a lovely break from my ramblings, but I despair. I have so little self-discipline in life as it is, why tempt me with this technology and remove my last vestiges of effort.
Oh. Well.
Hmmm.
Must go, I have a couple of episodes of Property Snakes and Ladders taped...
Square Eyes...
I have discovered the reason why I've not been posting much lately.
Its not that I haven't been doing much. No. The Oubliette experience is so rich and varied that I had a near collapse from exhaustion last evening, swoon, from doing too much.
No, the reason I haven't been blogging much is Sky+. Well, more accurately, NTLs version of Sky+ and more specifically yet - Series link. All those shows - pointless, brainless shows that I'd watch if they happened to be on and I was in front of the telly, are now only a few button presses away... As if I didn't waste enough of my life doing pointless things...
Of course this has given you all a lovely break from my ramblings, but I despair. I have so little self-discipline in life as it is, why tempt me with this technology and remove my last vestiges of effort.
Oh. Well.
Hmmm.
Must go, I have a couple of episodes of Property Snakes and Ladders taped...
Its not that I haven't been doing much. No. The Oubliette experience is so rich and varied that I had a near collapse from exhaustion last evening, swoon, from doing too much.
No, the reason I haven't been blogging much is Sky+. Well, more accurately, NTLs version of Sky+ and more specifically yet - Series link. All those shows - pointless, brainless shows that I'd watch if they happened to be on and I was in front of the telly, are now only a few button presses away... As if I didn't waste enough of my life doing pointless things...
Of course this has given you all a lovely break from my ramblings, but I despair. I have so little self-discipline in life as it is, why tempt me with this technology and remove my last vestiges of effort.
Oh. Well.
Hmmm.
Must go, I have a couple of episodes of Property Snakes and Ladders taped...
Monday, September 28, 2009
Oh, Monday Monday...
I've been very quiet lately - but I was delighted with myself for starting TFE's Monday Poetry challenge nice and early, a few days ago... but, as detailed in the comments section over there, my PC betrayed me and collapsed. Blue screen o' death. Lost my preciously brillianty wondrousness ditty. I've tried to recreated it, but how can one recapture the elusive muse? Ah, anyway, here's what I threw together today...
Night
Devils eyes red stare 3am into the dark room
forever unblinking.
I sit, duvet discarded.
Two fingers open the venetians
I watch the wind play kiss chase
with irritated trees.
Cars sleep, stabled for the night.
the middle classes retired all around me
at peace in their beds, in their heads.
Pruned perfect gardens stand to attention
waiting to be admired.
You snuffle snore beside me
habitually oblivious.
And I stare, craven, craving the night
to take it and put it in my head
to lodge the stars behind my eyes
the calm in my heart
the quiet in my soul.
Oh, Monday Monday...
I've been very quiet lately - but I was delighted with myself for starting TFE's Monday Poetry challenge nice and early, a few days ago... but, as detailed in the comments section over there, my PC betrayed me and collapsed. Blue screen o' death. Lost my preciously brillianty wondrousness ditty. I've tried to recreated it, but how can one recapture the elusive muse? Ah, anyway, here's what I threw together today...
Night
Devils eyes red stare 3am into the dark room
forever unblinking.
I sit, duvet discarded.
Two fingers open the venetians
I watch the wind play kiss chase
with irritated trees.
Cars sleep, stabled for the night.
the middle classes retired all around me
at peace in their beds, in their heads.
Pruned perfect gardens stand to attention
waiting to be admired.
You snuffle snore beside me
habitually oblivious.
And I stare, craven, craving the night
to take it and put it in my head
to lodge the stars behind my eyes
the calm in my heart
the quiet in my soul.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Writers Retreating
So, some writer chums spent a very enjoyable weekend, eating, drinking and doing a spot of writing. The sun shone and the muse skipped merrily among us. And here is the pictorial evidence...
Russbourgh House - writers recline
"So, I said to Heaney - 'Oi Heaney, yur shite!'"
"...that's when he hit me - a real nasty one to my jaw, here..."
Unhappy subject.
Queen of the picnic - yummy!!
"What do you think? Its brilliant, no?"
Just a bit higher and I can cog the answers...
"So, I said, a Ferrari, and maybe 50k - then I might consider the Oxford Professor of Poetry job.."
Not drinking but working.
"I say old chum, you're a jolly fine writer..." "Oh, why thank you old sport..."
"You think you've a chance of winning with that short story!"
"If he says 'f**k' one more time I'm elbowing him in the goolies"
Top of the world ma, top of the world...
Writers attempting to be inspired by the beauty around them
Included here are a three time Henessey nominee, Hennessey winner, Jonathan Swift winner, etc, etc... hard to believe...
Russbourgh House - writers recline
"So, I said to Heaney - 'Oi Heaney, yur shite!'"
"...that's when he hit me - a real nasty one to my jaw, here..."
Unhappy subject.
Queen of the picnic - yummy!!
"What do you think? Its brilliant, no?"
Just a bit higher and I can cog the answers...
"So, I said, a Ferrari, and maybe 50k - then I might consider the Oxford Professor of Poetry job.."
Not drinking but working.
"I say old chum, you're a jolly fine writer..." "Oh, why thank you old sport..."
"You think you've a chance of winning with that short story!"
"If he says 'f**k' one more time I'm elbowing him in the goolies"
Top of the world ma, top of the world...
Writers attempting to be inspired by the beauty around them
Included here are a three time Henessey nominee, Hennessey winner, Jonathan Swift winner, etc, etc... hard to believe...Writers Retreating
So, some writer chums spent a very enjoyable weekend, eating, drinking and doing a spot of writing. The sun shone and the muse skipped merrily among us. And here is the pictorial evidence...
Russbourgh House - writers recline
"So, I said to Heaney - 'Oi Heaney, yur shite!'"
"...that's when he hit me - a real nasty one to my jaw, here..."
Unhappy subject.
Queen of the picnic - yummy!!
"What do you think? Its brilliant, no?"
Just a bit higher and I can cog the answers...
"So, I said, a Ferrari, and maybe 50k - then I might consider the Oxford Professor of Poetry job.."
Not drinking but working.
"I say old chum, you're a jolly fine writer..." "Oh, why thank you old sport..."
"You think you've a chance of winning with that short story!"
"If he says 'f**k' one more time I'm elbowing him in the goolies"
Top of the world ma, top of the world...
Writers attempting to be inspired by the beauty around them
Included here are a three time Henessey nominee, Hennessey winner, Jonathan Swift winner, etc, etc... hard to believe...
Russbourgh House - writers recline"So, I said to Heaney - 'Oi Heaney, yur shite!'""...that's when he hit me - a real nasty one to my jaw, here..."
Unhappy subject.Queen of the picnic - yummy!!"What do you think? Its brilliant, no?"Just a bit higher and I can cog the answers..."So, I said, a Ferrari, and maybe 50k - then I might consider the Oxford Professor of Poetry job.."Not drinking but working."I say old chum, you're a jolly fine writer..." "Oh, why thank you old sport...""You think you've a chance of winning with that short story!"
"If he says 'f**k' one more time I'm elbowing him in the goolies"Top of the world ma, top of the world...Writers attempting to be inspired by the beauty around themIncluded here are a three time Henessey nominee, Hennessey winner, Jonathan Swift winner, etc, etc... hard to believe...Monday, September 14, 2009
More TFE
I found this weeks task too hard! I don't know why. Below is all I could manage.
The piece of music?
Bach's Cello Suite No.1 - Prelude
Too beautiful.
Even a philistine like me
is moved.
The piece of music?
Bach's Cello Suite No.1 - Prelude
Too beautiful.
Even a philistine like me
is moved.
More TFE
I found this weeks task too hard! I don't know why. Below is all I could manage.
The piece of music?
Bach's Cello Suite No.1 - Prelude
Too beautiful.
Even a philistine like me
is moved.
The piece of music?
Bach's Cello Suite No.1 - Prelude
Too beautiful.
Even a philistine like me
is moved.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Blog Block...
This is awful. I've got writers block, or rather blog block. And seeing how blogging is pretty trivial to start out with, this is serious stuff. Have I actually completely run out of things to say? Am I to be silent for the rest of my life? Or will I just be able to utter really banal and mundane words?
Words like 'grey' or 'vehicular'.
Never more will I have reason to use words like 'cornucopia' or ... or... oh God, I can't even come up with examples of delicious words!
Any suggestion about how I can administer CPR to my muse will be gratefully received...
Blog Block...
This is awful. I've got writers block, or rather blog block. And seeing how blogging is pretty trivial to start out with, this is serious stuff. Have I actually completely run out of things to say? Am I to be silent for the rest of my life? Or will I just be able to utter really banal and mundane words?
Words like 'grey' or 'vehicular'.
Never more will I have reason to use words like 'cornucopia' or ... or... oh God, I can't even come up with examples of delicious words!
Any suggestion about how I can administer CPR to my muse will be gratefully received...
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