It's Not Sober Anytime Soon.

For Skyler's Dad.
Did I say 5 container loads? I meant 500! My bad. Still FOC!

Erin Brockovich is really proud of you!
I hope you have a BIG garage!

Homage.

For Jen, because she just works.

Guess What Arrived Today?

Thanks Sushi!

Further scans of the priceless content are forthcoming.

An Exercise In The Power Of Dreams.

Isn't it strange how Blogging can sometimes feel intimate.
Like a voice in the darkness, comforting, knowing you are not alone.

If there is one thing Blogging tells us, it is this

There are many thoughts that distract and de-couple us from this reality

Is reality the scalpel with which Blogworld falls asunder, or the instrument with which it is validated and verified?

I think we will do okay.

Well In.

Lost And Lonely.

This isn't a song, it's a story.

Sans a Blogger
He posts when lost and lonely
They say he once posted a recipe.  

He never made it.

Text link is here.

Getting Sober Blogging #1.

For Skyler's Dad.
Sending 5 container loads FOC.

Erin Brockovich would be proud of you!

Drunk Blogging #2.

Drunk Blogging.

For Anne.

Visitor.

I had a Robin come visit today, so I took her picture.

Sans Palace.

Miss Alex has shown an interest my my modest abode.

It has only 106 bedrooms, but I manage somehow. Below is a picture of me taken earlier, standing on the front steps.

Sans Pantaloons of course!

A Birthday Flake!

A Birthday flake for Jen. Have a great Birthday!

Nothing™

Ye Olde Ones Are The Beste.

I think. Maybe I dost think too much.

DULCE ET DECORUM EST.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen.

UPDATE. An audio recording of the memories of some soldiers who served in the First World War, recorded 30 years ago, has been posted at http://www.glasgowstories.com/
It has also been posted on YouTube. A direct link is here.

Homage.

One day I can see us walking
Arm and arm in sheltered Kelvin way
Talking and tripping and teasing
And heading for the best part of the day.

Words by Ricky Ross.

Saint Mungo.

For Cat.
George Frampton RA created this prestigious bronze group at the north entrance, depicting Saint Mungo as Patron Saint of the Arts. St Mungo is the city of Glasgow's patron saint and he is depicted with a crozier in his hand.

On either side of St Mungo are female figures: On the left, Art is featured with a book, and on the right, Music with an organ. Above these is a relief of The British colonies heralding the arms of Glasgow.
Clicking the graphic should enable a larger view.

Dona Nobis Pacem.

I hope with all my heart that we can learn to live in peace.

If you want to know more about BlogBlast For Peace.

We Shall Overcome.

Historic.

Random Find.

Thirsty anyone?

Man Of Mystery.

Pantalunatic News reports from the world premiere of the latest James Bond movie Quantum of Solace, which took place this week in London’s Leicester Square.
Pictured above is Welsh actress Catherine Zeta-Jones with a mystery beau who refused to give his name. When pressed the enigmatic gentleman, who may or may not be the real James Bond, said he was "too busy at present, but hoped to have his hands full later on."

Well I Never. . .

Amy posted a graphic of HSM3. Something about it worried me, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I enlarged it by clicking upon it and the truth jumped out and hit me square on the jaw.
And I did not believe Dick when he said he bore an uncanny likeness to Troy Bolton.
Mr. Dick Small, please accept my sincerest apology.