🦆
A very big thank you indeed to the Gruts reader (you know who you are) who has just sent me George Johnson's The Ten Most Beautiful Experiments from my Amazon wish list. Much appreciated—although you really shouldn't have.
Just imagine my disappointment, however, on flicking through the book, to discover that the hatescope had somehow been overlooked.
Story of my life.
Ann and Bill just sent me the following:
For the record, I was trying to look like Little Steven at the time. I don't usually dress like that.
Honestly.
See also: The Devil Woman Game
[P]rior to the nineteen-twenties, history was not even aware of the non-existence of ley lines as they had yet to be identified and named as such
Yes, Fitz (the tosser) is back with his freshly relaunched blog, Fitzroy's Red Lion Corner…. His early posts include the one cited above about ley lines (which contains some startling revelations about the unremarkable alignments of Beaverbrooks stores in South East England), and some links to some truly remarkable videos of his own making.
In the unlikely event that you have nothing better to do, why not go over there and taunt him?
Jen on my comfy, brown cardigan that I only wear to annoy her:
You should put that to one side… You'll be glad of it when you're old.
More photos from yesterday's 2008 Open practice round here.
Managed to get a photo of Stense's fanny with my 300mm zoom lens this afternoon.
Writing this from my parents' house, so don't have the wherewithall to publish the photo from here, but watch this space…
True story: I heard someone refer to 'the Prime Minister' on the radio yesterday, and I suddenly went blank. For a whole 15 seconds or so, I couldn't remember who the Prime Minister was.
Jesus! It's finally come to this, I thought.
But, reflecting on it afterwards, I think this little tale says more about Gordon Brown than it does about me.
At least I hope it bloody well does.
Jen and I spent the morning rounding up cows with our farmer friend.
At one point, I found myself walking along a track, talking with the farmer's four-year-old grandson:
Farmer's grandson: [Waving blue drain-rod around his head] I've got a walking-stick!
Me: That's not really a walking-stick. Do you know what it's really for?
Farmer's grandson: Hitting cows with.
I must say, he's a very observant young lad.
(Do you see what I did there?)
Forgot to mention: when I was at the Radiohead gig the other week, I went to powder my nose before the show, only to be confronted by the sight of several men standing at urinals drinking beer whilst pissing.
And women have the nerve to say we're no good at multi-tasking.