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An unheralded and unawaited return to the world of the written word on the internet. I stopped for a while because the events occupying my attention were taking a morbid turn and I did not want to write anything for fear it would be tinted through the bleakest of lenses. What has been long awaited has now been and gone, somewhere in the very middle of the time line expressed photographically below. Ethical dilemmas cease to exist, until next time.

I have some nice pictures for comparison.


This one I like for the composition. Very balanced. But then the sun came out…


Such a lovely colour on the rocks. But it was so bright I couldn’t see the screen and the composition is off.

What I really need is a combination of the best of the two. Any photoshoppers out there…?

I watched a man not throwing stones into the sea and was reminded of all the times I’ve watched men making their existence known to large bodies of water by disturbing them with ripples and rocks. What is the difference? Why are we like this? It’s been many years since I was the stone-throwing type. Now I just watch. And now I know someone else does too.

There have been some epic spider webs in the garden of late, I’ve been meaning to catch them in a dewy sunlit morning but the alignment of the heavenly bodies is all wrong for that. Or at least the caprices of some long forgotten urban planning department. I have instead another combination of sunshine, liquid and macro lenses for your perusal (no spiders – guaranteed).


Meanwhile, the sum total of my Isle of Wight adventures can be summed up as follows:



As proud as I am of the fact that I managed to wear feathers without feeling compelled to escape from them by blindly running, screaming and flailing my limbs, I must admit a slight sting of disappointment that while I foresaw the inevitable consequences of the combination of wearing a tutu and imbibing improbable amounts of alcohol, I did little if anything to prevent them. Cue episodes of yours truly prancing around announcing “I’m a ballerina!” along with a plethora of unexplained injuries, a minimum of two wardrobe malfunctions and a very delicate Sunday. I was not, as they say, “feeling it.”

Never mind, I discovered bargains. The cure for any self inflicted humiliation.


This charming time piece, currently on the postcard wall but destined to take up residence above the piano, chimes before it reaches the hour, can’t go a full week without winding and currently loses approximately 48 minutes per day. The chime sounds ominously without feeling. Imagine how gold might sound, well this is brass. Still, it’s mine and I love it.


Having recently decided to buy a camper van next year, I thought it was high time I started furnishing it, so from the same emporium I purchased this lovely copper kettle. Now I catch myself daydreaming about crisp sunny mornings in some European country or other, with that memory-laden smell of burning calor gas bombarding my olfactory senses while I wait for my cuppa. Life doesn’t get much better than that I don’t think.

FRPs now that I’ve book some flights for the winter: -110

FitnePs: Exercise has been done, in a variety of settings but intermingled with a lot of unhealthy living: 0

RelaPs for deciding to enter the binding commitment of camper van ownership: +1

Total so far…

  • Karma: +16
  • FRP: -16.4
  • Relationships: +6
  • Family: +9
  • Friends: +15 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
  • Career: +9
  • Fitness: 0
  • General: -1
  • Hospitality: +3
Lyric of the Week: Don’t listen to a word I say