27th, A Young Lady, and Cat Antics.

Good evening, all.
It's been a little while, hasn't it?
I've come to disagree with the 27th of the month these days. Meh. There are just some days that need to have coconut ice planned for them- the 27th of the month is one of them. So naturally, we made curry and coconut ice. We being Schwierd (a chap of mine) and I. Occasionally we all need a bindi, bangles, and coconut ice. I'm not sure that it's even Indian food, but it's a nice combination...
I was thinking recently about a girl, Malala I believe, who is now in hospital up country after being shot by the Taliban in her country. How incredible she is. So brave at such a young age, so resolute, and determined.
She's my age.
And I wonder, put in her position, whether I would be strong enough to do what she has. I'd like to think I would be, but I'm not in her position, so how could I possibly say that I would be. I so admire her. In my opinion, she displays true courage, and conviction, in so many ways equal to, more than, that of Milicent Fawcett or the Pankhursts- but so very different. In a truly civilised world, is every man and woman taught to think for his or herself? I think yes.  The "girl" I referred to earlier, is very much a woman. A woman who knows the value of her education, and a woman who has been fighting for what she knows is right.
Ask me who I admire, and I say it must be her, and I'm sure there must be others who are trying to do exactly what she was trying to do.
The attack on her, a young lady, and a credit to not only her country, but to the rest of the world has made me question just how "civilised" some people really are. Where is the civilisation in a group who would attempt to kill a child simply for wanting to go to school? Where is the civilisation in a group who would openly threaten to attempt to kill her again on her return?
Something must be done. And it must be done before it's too late.

Daphne.

NB. On a lighter note. Mother just made me move so that her cat could sit on the settee where I was, because apparently it was exactly where Winnie "wanted to sit"... -.-

Ludo, Eric Clapton, And The Boys.

Hullo, peoplefolk. I, sir, am blumin' knackered.
This is the part where I could choose to tell you why, or leave you guessing from some obscure, ridiculous hints- but that kid cheats like a bitch at Ludo.
Paps made banana wine. Luffly stuff, chaps. Bit strong.
Anyways, I won an award this week. For excellence and attainment in modern foreign languages. So thanks, Pat Neale! I owe you one, man. This was at a presentation evening, which I had to be at (Head Girl and whatnot), and let me tell you- between you and me- I took every ounce of effort to smile at so many grumpy parents who didn't want to be there.
If I Saw You In Heaven, Eric Clapton. Lord above, it makes me cry. He lives over the beach at Porth Kidney. Porth Kidney is my favourite place in the whole world. Now, I must make this a little bit more serious. Just this once. I'm not sure if that's what the boys would have wanted, though. So I'll try to keep it light.
Joe and Lou are twenty tomorrow. If I Saw You In Heaven- paps still can't listen to it. The boys passed away as babies, and the whole thing deeply upset my parents- as you can imagine. But we grew up always knowing their names like older brothers, and I think they'd have been a right laugh, expecially if they'd turned out anything like paps. Maybe we'd have had to have put up with spiders being thrown at us and other assorted laddish traits, still...wherever they are now, I'm sure they're doing just fine. And although I might not have known them in life, I think I know them all the better for the thought over the years. So, if I forget to say it tomorrow- happy birthday, guys. Don't drink too much.

-Daphne.

Dave From A Registered Charity, Goldfish Eyes, And The Crapmobile.

"Hullo, can I speak to a uh... *stutters over my father's last name a few times*?" "Ah, no, I'm afraid he's not around, can I take a message?" "Uhm, who is this?" "Well, I might ask you the same question, sir. His daughter." "Oh, then tell him it's Dave from a registered charity." "We'll see, Dave from a registered charity, we'll see."
Some people.
Huzzah, peoplefolk, it's me. Just twentyseven days later than last time it was me and I was whittering on about GI Jive Hour or something. Seriously though, the 1940s UK Radio Station... so much love.
Now, there three key thoughts on my end today:
1. A woman with goldfish eyes insisted of picturegraphing me in my uniform in a very unatural position. Nobody poses like that, woman. Nobody. We won't go into the details, but it involved rolling my sleeves down so I didn't agree with it.
2. Builders. I love builders. It seems they mostly drink tea, and talk down their phones, but suddenly infrastructure appears at their finger tips.
3. As I was crossing the road, a young man who looked a little...spaced out... drove past with banging fairground music blaring from his crapmobile. Resisted the urge to skip in circles.

Love, luck, tea.
Daphne.
 

GI Jive Hour, 'Burlesque Interpretation', And Money That I Haven't Got.

Evening, you lot. I've been listening to this for six hours http://www.1940sukradio.co.uk/ and I'm not sure if I can stop. Eventually I won't be able to talk, I'll be be a mess of big band music, GI Jive Hour,  and American war bonds advertisements. So I'm looking forward to that.
I was going to do something really worthwhile today. I ended up spending a few hours learning German and spent the rest of the day looking for WAAF uniform bits and pieces on t'interweb, I won't lie to you, I'm going to have to get a real job to afford it. But I so want it all. It's very difficult to come by uniforms for sale, they're all hired or 'burlesque interpretation' (which is basically world war two for strippers). So, people, any WAAF uniforms for sale, you let me know, oui?
Other than that it was the general vintage shopping with money I haven't got. Look at where I spend the money I don't have, and you won't blame me http://www.lovemissdaisy.com/ . I AM IN LOVE. I love Love Miss Daisy so, so, so much. I just...mah. The way to my heart, if ever there was one, is through a)uniform or b)old things - but not in the Hugh Hefner sort of way... as in... old radios, and rifles, and posters and whatnot.  Anyway if I wanted Hugh Hefner, I suppose I'd have to spend the squids that I haven't got on 'burlesque interpretation WAAF uniforms'.
That's all, chaps.
Just one last thing, this is the chorus of a song I just heard on the afore mentioned radio.
"You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean, so cheer up my lads, bless 'em all."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYPrwor7Yps
Worth some thought, I reckon.

Daphne.

Latin, Hipsters, and Beethoven.

Hallo, my humanfolk. I would attempt the "what's cracka-lackin'?" thing but unfortunately I'm not feeling very American today. Do try it yourself if it floats your boat.
It is currently 9.51PM, 22nd August. Do you know what day it is tomorrow? The day I find out whether the sour invigilator was right to be giving me bitter "get on with your paper" eyes last June during my Latin exams...cross your fingers for me, eh? English, Maths, Science, French and Latin to be worrying about tomorrow. And we're only half way through, people.
The thing is, aside from my slight lack of German (with which I'm taking the exam next June, with a bit of luck, and flattery around my French teacher), languages are good with me. Usually. So hopefully Latin will be fine, it's just that I feel like I've forgotten the past four years of learning and chanting verb conjugations, and noun endings in six weeks. I'll have to read the Aeneid on t'interwebs to wake myself up in September. That'll be fun. I'm not reading the whole bloody thing, of course. Just the bit about "so run my she-goats, run" because that bit always make me giggle for some reason. Heheh. Okay, so enough of that, because I know you're bored of my academic misadventure.
A really good band you lot need to listen to is Of Monsters And Men. Such a great band. Little Talks, and Dirty Paws are good to get started with. I'm NOT a hipster. But trust me, these are good. Down with hipsters. I have to bite my tongue when I see them. They're so hipster they're mainstream. C'mon, bro, there's no need for the knitted hat. I know our summers aren't great, and all, but really? A hat? A knitted hat, at that? Sigh. And as for your oversized glasses with no glass in them... get rid of them. I'm going to go on a snapping-your-stupid-bloody-hipster-glasses spree, and if you get in my way, I'll cut up all your frickin' multicoloured braces. I won't even go into "I did it before it was cool", 'cause you know who really did it before it was cool? This guy. Beethoven wrote his own music before it was cool.

Daphne.

453rd AAA AW Battalion.

'Allo, 'allo, 'allo.
Last night I went to bed with a list of things I knew I needed to do today. I went to bed all like "Yeah! Damn right I'll do all that work and feel like I've achieved something tomorrow! Nothing's gonna stop me, man, I'm a freakin' machine!"  And then this morning I woke up with super-villain hair, one eye bigger than the other, cursing the sun and the chirpy birds. That list I'd thought of had been mentally torn apart with my teeth, whilst reciting an indiginous hunting chant of some sort. Well, that's what it felt like, any way. I started reading Lord Of The Flies for my English work in September. That was gripping.
Inevitably, I put that down.
You know, there's this little pill box in a field a few hundred yards from my house. One from the second world war. Mum reckons it's haunted, and my dog doesn't like it either. There's definitely something weird about it. So after I had finished exploring inside (it was pretty much empty except for an old mat at the entrance) I went back to t'interwebs to find out which US army bn. had been camped in Maiden Newton during the second world war. I looked through all the records and whatnot and apparently there were the 453rd AAA AW Battalion and 55th Quarter Master Base Depot. With my pro interweb 'intense research' I even found pictures of them training in Fort Something-or-other in America. Nifty, eh?
Instead of German we studied the 453rd AAA AW Bn today, chaps. And it was lovely, sir.

Daphne.

Russia, Coursework, 1940s Radio, and Boris Johnson. Four things... I'm just screwing with you now, aren't I?

So, apparently I have a greater audience in Russia now. It's a good day for everyone.
Today I sat my desk for six hours and wrote out a whole bunch of coursework pieces for my German studying-malarky. Had a positively smashing row with the Kellen who proceeded to demonstrate his manliness by deleting our 'friendship' on the Bookface. I ask you. Nevermind, my pretties, I can't say I really care that much. Oh, chaps, I also had the great fortune to stumble upon the most delicious radio station ever. It runs on donations and the money they make from advertising on their website, but it plays music between 1920 and the end of the war. I completely adore it, I listened to it all day. I'll put the link at the bottom, it's definitely worth listening to. Put it on your list of "Things to do to make Daffers love me."
Do you know who I love? Boris Johnson.
http://www.1940sukradio.co.uk/

The Macarena, Dig For Victory, and Twentyseven Squids.

Good morning, you lot. Good afternoon, evening, whatever...
I learnt the Spanish bit in The Macarena, but I have no German coursework yet...Los Del Rio +1        German 0. Bugger.
It's okay, it's okay, I'll have most of it done by the end of the summer, trust me.
So, I have news. You remember I published those photos last week? Of Maiden Newton At War? Yes? Well, next weekend there's something just like that in Wiltshire called 'Dig For Victory'. Free admission, peoplefolk. Look: http://www.dig-for-victory.com/EVENT-DETAILS-2012
So, I'll try to be there, you know me and a man in uniform. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
Finally I have the hair and makeup down to about 25 minutes...say what you like, but I was bloody pleased...  Unfortunately, after spending twentyseven squids, I had to let my Navy uniform go. That's the last time I go to questionnable websites for that sort of thing. What shall I wear this time around, hmm? Ideas?
Also, my friend Acacia has a penchant for the Swiss. Just to let you know.

Daphne.

German, Natalie, and Tanks.

It's a new month, peoplefolk. And the first day since summer started that I actually started doing all the stuff I said I had to do. So, yeah. I'm now basically German, with a boxer's body, extremely well-read, and beautified. Huzzah! No. I did a load of German, started training, started reading things for my Inklish exams, and my sister attacked my hair with straighteners. So, it's been productive in Daphne's world lately.
Natalie, I think being referred to as the girl who reads books about World War 2 is a noble thing. Mostly because I am too. Here, look at these photos from Maiden Newton At War (this huge event where I live and the whole place goes all forties for a few days).

   A bloke called Barry that I picked up. "Here, now I've got something to show me wife..."                        

  A sargeant whose name I don't know and me dancing. That dancefloor was a serious forties mosh pit, and
we kept dancing into people and being danced into. But he was very, very nice...                                              

        A young lad and us lot. I say young, but he's taller than me with heels on. -.-                                

                                         Us lot and a man with a tank. Ch'yeah.

 So that is us. That is us and pretend soldiers. And tanks.
                                       And damn it, do we love tanks.

Daphne.

Princess, Summer, A Mild Bus Induced Concussion.

Huzzah, peoplefolk. I'm back. You see, I have been a-boating around Norfolk, and sunbathing on top of a blue boat called 'Princess.' It was a lovely holiday, aside from the dodgy plumbing and some sailing tit that almost tacked into me. But, otherwise beautiful, and relaxing. The perfect place to see that your ex has moved on to a girl you were supposedly close to. But I'm not bitter... the twofaced little...ergh. A week and a half, brah? Seriously?
Mah.
Anyways, school is over for the summer. I have a lot to do this summer though, history and spanish stuff, art coursework, all my German coursework (since school doesn't offer it, I'm doing it by myself), repainting the shed, seeing my friendly-types, seeing the familiars in Cornwall, looking at youth conferences perhaps...The point is, I have a lot to do. Oh, and I need to get a job, unless it turns out that I won the lottery last night. HA. Yeah, no. I need to get a job.
You know how I always ask for funny stories and nobody ever complies? EVER?!
Well, I decided I would get the ball rolling, so as to speak. So, a little while ago, I was finding a double seat on the bus because Katie always sits with me. The only double seat was at the very front of the bus facing the rest of the passengers. So Katie took the window seat and I took the seat in the aisle. Turns out that the bus driver that day did not believe in slowing down around all the sharp corners. Turns out my balance really isn't very good.
I literally fell out of my seat. And I dived into the aisle as the whole bus watched on. That poor kid the other side.
Okay, your turn.
If you won't post it here, you can email me for blogging purposes at dafferslovesyou@gmail.com.
Love. Luck. Tea.

Daphne.

Dabble.

Thanks. Especially to Mama Dunford and Natalie, you beautiful women.
I don't feel less crappy than before, but putting pink in my hair, and acquiring braces for my boating shorts has been excellent distraction. Luckily I had a long phellytone call with my psychopathic friend Caitlin, and we cried, and laughed, and bitched, and cried, and laughed. It was nice. Damn, I love that little weirdo.
Without going into details of the last twentyfour hours, I just feel horrible about everything. I don't expect him to understand. I'll miss him.
But I'm giving up on humans.
Human emotions continue to confuse, and repulse me, so there's at least one thing that will never change. Also, my furry black pussies need homes this week. Doesn't the summer get better, and better?
Welcome to England: where it rains everyday, and the forecast doesn't matter. Huzzah!


Lieutenant George will walk again. Maybe.
There's just one last thing: dabble. Dabble, dabble, dabble. I really will miss that.

-Daphne.
NB: Tell me, do my posts ask more questions than they answer? I'm sorry about that. You get used to it.

I'm not in the mood.

Somebody please tell me something worth smiling about.
My boyfriend and I broke up today, and... how I feel is not within the confines of decent English usage. Even the sun sets in paradise, eh?
All those fairytales are full of Scheiße.
Sob. Guys...

~D.

Kittens, Independence Malarkey, Liberty.

Will nobody take my sweet, furry, black pussies?
PUSSY CATS.
I have three little kittens that need homes, peoples. Cute, black, fluffy balls of sleepy, cuddly, playful joy. And cat litter. So, if you happen to be after a kitten, or know somebody who can give them a good home, please, please let me know. I'm not allowed to keep all four, so I have to find homes for three. Please, poeplefolk, you have to go about and advertise. But, obviously, in England. Or Wales, if you want to go that far. But, humans, I'm serious. I need help. Comment if you can do anything for me, or reach me through any way you can.
Faaaanks.
So, a happy 4th of July to you American readers. I say that like I actually have American readers. I think I have one at least, so it's fine. Happy 4th of July! Usually I spend this day being sarcastic in the rain about Americans. But I do that most days. You know, it's not too late to change your minds about this independence malarkey. But if you're particularly set on spending today being overly sentimental about fireworks, please go ahead.
Alas, my Britons, I must offer our American cousins something for their...special day. Heh.
Dearest America,

  ('Memebase')

Happy 4th of July!

With love,
Daphne.

Pentacles, Catch 22, Bookface.

Evening, people. If it interests you to know, I dropped my pentacle in Pepsi. While the whimsical alliteration amuses me, the notion is still irritating. Although, it's supposed to be a good silver cleaner/polisher, so I guess I can't complain.
I can't tell you what's on my mind. Mainly because I don't really know to tell you. And also because I don't think you really mind so much. It's been a draining week, purely because I haven't had half as much academic stress as I've grown comfortable with. I don't like it. It means I have spare time to waste thinking, and whatnot. When I start thinking about my own personal affairs, I do tend to doubt the most important parts. I work better under pressure. Don't chill me out like this. So, anyway, I've taken up reading again, so as to further my vocabulary, and seem well read. HA. I'm reading Catch 22 by Joseph Heller, which I say to be one of the two best books ever written. The other is The Camomile Lawn, by Mary Wesley. Catch 22 can't be done justice by my explanation, but give me a chance, guys. It's the perfect way of catching the insanity of war in a light hearted, but also quite touching way. So, so funny, and very sad in parts. It must be, along with The Camomile Lawn, my favourite book ever written. And I hereby command you to read it. Put it on your list of "Things to do to make me loved by Daffers." Jolly good, chaps.
Knackered. So knackered. What else can I tell you? I'm really only writing because 'Big Brother' on channel whatever is doing my head in, and my thoughts are still all over the place- much as they have been all week, and will most likely continue to be for the foreseeable future. Sorry you have to put up with me. I'd really like some suggestions for things I can do. Or hilarious, embarrassing stories. As I've previously mentioned, I won't put ALL of them on Bookface.
Love. Luck. Tea.

-Daphne.

Dedication, Soldiers, and My Middle Finger.

So, I said I'd blog tonight. And here I am. Even I amaze myself with my constant application and dedication. Heh.
So, this week has been sort of cloudy in any sense. Actually, last weekend was amazing. 'Maiden Newton At War' is always the best part of two years. Trundled around with a few friends, all of us dressed up in my forties gear, and me in my Navy uniform. Usually wolf whistles and being stared at by strange men would freak me out, but I was weirdly okay with it. It was a good laugh, and we watched them doing drill, and re-enact battles, and sit around being... men in uniform.
And Saturday night was so good. Loads of music, and people dancing. There was one particularly nice young man that I danced with, while his crazy friend took my friends for a whirl around the floor. But I forgot to ask his name...I know. I'm the height of intelligence. But I do know that he's 21, and is a car salesman, which he says, makes him the second most hated man- next to estate agents.  We swapped hats! Man, I want a hat like his. And it was all just a good laugh.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday have been far from perfect. I'll be okay. My friend, although a bit of a hop-head, once said "Everything is alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end."
So, when life gives me lemons, I'm going to give them back with my middle finger.

Love. Luck. Tea.

Exams, Piercings, and Sour Invigilators.

Good evening, children. Do play nicely.
I expect that's what Mr. Speaker tells the House of Commons.
Anyway, how are we? Please do answer this question, it's not rhetorical. I do like to hear about misadventure, embarrassment, and hilarity- so anything you've got, know you can put it out there, this is a supportive, encouraging atmosphere. So I won't post all of it on Facebook. Promise.
Today I did my final Latin language paper. I hope it was supposed to be that easy, or the examiner won't appreciate that big doodle of a ship sailing across the page. Personally, I thought it was inspired, but the sour little  invigilator was giving me stern looks, so I had refrain from fishies and mermaids under the water. Buggery. And a maths exam. The less said the better. I may be an A student, but that bloody paper killed my soul a little. And art. So much paint, so much carnage.
Mah, today I kept answering my Spanish teacher in German. Do you have any idea how irritating not being able to find the right words in the right language is? Sometimes I accidently write in Latin in French, and French in English, and Spanish in German. It's a pain. But I must know ALL the languages. I must.
So, I got a second set of studs (little peace signs) in my ears. They're pretty cool, except I can't touch them without inducing a world of torture amongst my ear lobes. I paid twenty squids for these, they better work, or I WILL return them. I don't care what the bedecked, and bejewelled  lady shoving steel through my flesh with a gun says.
Wish me luck for my literature papers, Wednesday and Friday.
Love. Luck. Tea.

Liquid sunshine, Corfu, and 1944.

Hallo, all. This is all very sophisticated, isn't it? You know, I kind of enjoyed the old...rustic dashboard, but this'll do.
So, pray tell, what's new, old chaps?
We've had a lot of liquid sunshine, haven't we? Or rain to you pessimists. It doesn't get the Queen down, she was still out there smiling and waving at all those boats. They really did just put whatever floats down there. Perhaps there were pedal boats drifted in from Corfu, with very confused holiday makers  in. "Woah, 'ang on a ticket, Dave, summit's gone wrong 'ere..."
Anyway, I do apologise for my lack of blogging. I've been a little snowed under by exams, and all that. My whole village is going back to 1944 next weekend. Wonderful.
Love. Luck. Tea.

Mexico, Chinese people, Cyanide and Happiness.

Good evening, all. The sun is out, I've finished school for the next two weeks, and the amount of work I have to do over the break is only a little bit heartbreaking. Okay, a lot heartbreaking. But I can forget about that for a little while. While the others stew in the hot tub for a bit, I thought I'd take this opportunity to generally confuse, and worry you.
There are few things of note today. The first being that le Kellen is off awandering Mexico as of this evening. He says he'll buy me something shiny, so I guess I don't mind. I like shiny things.
The second is that on Wednesday morning, my History teacher played me a video telling me that all the Chinese people are going to steal our jobs if we don't educate ourselves enough. It's a fair point, I mean, why would you, as an employer, hire a western worker with high wages, and expectations of three weeks paid holiday a year, when you could hire a Chinese worker- with the same, if not greater, skill, that expects fewer privileges? (I'm not saying they don't deserve the same working conditions as westerners, but you know what I'm trying to say.) So, anyways, I've been freaking out ever since. Studying and working like a lunatic so that the Chinese students in my year don't beat me. *winning smile*
That was all a bit intense. Here. Enjoy this. From Cyanide and Happiness- which I adore.

Daphne.

I'm too tired to write something witty here.

People need to stop getting one up on my wit. Seriously, gold munching friend whose name will not be mentioned, if you steal my laughs once more, I will cut out your voice box. Pleaseandthankyou. DoesitbotheryouthatI'mnotputtingspacesin? InfactImighttypelikethisjusttopissyouoff. Actuallyit'sannoyingme.I'mgoingtostopthisnow.... Right, well. That was refreshing. The perfect grammar cleansing experience.
This weekend, Mother's German friend, Jutta, will be visiting. It gives me an excuse to say things like "Hallo, wie gehts?" without being judged. Turns out, people judge you if you bark directions at your friends in German around school. "im Schritt- Marsch!" Is not appropriate.

Daphne.

First Years, Blogs, and Werther's Originals.

Hallo, my pretties. It's me. Don't feel you have to applaud. *cough*
So, lately I've been trying to get back into blogging. A silly idea really, I have quite enough to be suffocating me, but if procrastination was an Olympic sport, I'd so win gold. Now, I reckon the key to becoming a good blogger is to read lots of other blogs. And, I'm just not sure where to start, so any suggestions would be jolly spiffing, chaps.
Yes. I really did just say "jolly spiffing, chaps." You can keep that one.
My, my, my. What to ramble about this morning? Well, I nearly caught a first year with a Werther's Original yesterday. Sadly, said first year got suspicious and my friend ate the sweets instead. Oh the trials and tribulations. It's almost like you're not supposed to trick first years into your orbit with confectionary. Next time.
Love. Luck. Tea.


Daphne.

Blogger Awards, and the like.

Firstly, a massive thank you to Natalie. Wah! I'm so touched. "Daphne is English and hilarious and I love her. This is another brilliant blog that I often find myself in tears over. Mhmmm." That was one of the loveliest things anybody's ever said about me, you darling.
I've never been awarded for a blog- actually, the closest I come to that is a dozen 'likes' on my Facebook status. Mazzletoff. But more of my dwellings in the social misadventure that is Facebook later.
So, AWARDS. *maniac giggle* As I understand it, my pretties, the rules are as follows:
Eins) Tell everyone something they didn't know before.
Zwei) Link to one of my blogs that I personally think best fit the following categories: Most Beautiful, Most Helpful, Most Popular, Most Controversial, Most Surprisingly Successful, Most Underrated, and Most Pride Worthy. (Wha-? I don't think I can fulfill this. I'm just not that diverse. Sort of like vanilla ice cream- you can dress it up any which way you like, but at the end of the day, it's still a chubby white kid...I mean, it's still vanilla ice cream. Was that politically incorrect? Meh. Jeremy Clarkson would get away with it, so will I.)
Drei) Pass this award on to seven other bloggers. (PROBLEM. I only know of three. Will three do? Tchyeah.. It'll have to, my faithful disciples.)
                                                                                   *

Something that nobody else knows: Doesn't this defy the point of a secret? Fools. Who thought this one up?

LINKEN AUF MEIN BLOGGEN. Yes, I made that German up.

Most Pride Worthy goes to: http://olddaffersisoffagain.blogspot.com/2011/11/adventures-of-golden-slipper-woman-and.html
Admittedly, I may have been a) tired  or b)brilliant . You decide.

Most Under-rated: http://olddaffersisoffagain.blogspot.com/2011/10/sadistic-art-of-pumpkin-carving.html
Just... read it. Even I surprise myself sometimes.

Most Surprisingly Successful: http://olddaffersisoffagain.blogspot.com/2012/03/have-i-told-you-lately-that-i-love-you.html
My latest blog, on which in the comments I found the lovely Natalie had nominated me for an award. Dead chuffed.
Most Controversial: http://olddaffersisoffagain.blogspot.com/2011/10/pennies-prince-philip-and-jeremy.html
Okay, so Prince Philip hasn't always been the height of political correctitude, and equality, but God damn, that man's beautiful.

Most Popular: I have failed you. No, no, let me explain- no, stop shouting, please! For the love of God, it's all my fault...I can't decide. Have a gawk, see what you reckon.

Most Helpful: HA. Don't be silly. I'm never helpful in my blogging sprees.

Most Beautiful: http://olddaffersisoffagain.blogspot.com/2011/11/lest-we-forget.html
I can't say for certain why, but I think the title does it justice. Tell me what you think.

Now, I want to tell you about a few blogs I'm following.

http://lovelynonsensities.blogspot.com/ and http://lovelynonsensities.blogspot.com/: Natalie writes long, sometimes intense, sometimes lighthearted delights. I could read my way through her mind all day, if staring at computers didn't give me square eyes, kids.

http://www.blogger.com/profile/12470917995768284791: Mamma Dunford. I sort of want to adopt her. Check out her arty crafty blogging sprees. I think her creative streak ran into my gorgeous friend Ria, who never fails to produce intricate cards and notebooks an' all that jazz.

Right, I've rattled for quite long enough, I reckon. Glad tidings.

Daphne.

Have I told you lately that I love you? Well, darling, I'm telling you now...

Hallo. I am, infact, NOT dead. Hoorah!
You were all worried for weeks on end, not eating, not drinking, barely sleeping, I'm certain.
Never fear, my beautiful, beautiful, disciples, for the Lord your God is with you. I have returned to blogland for a little while to dedicate today's mix of stress induced headache, chocolate milkshake, and being hit on by Base kids to a couple of particularly ace people... Yes. I just said ace. You're freaking welcome, kids, it's here all week.
The first is my wonderful, most fantastic walking calculator, beautiful little redhead, Ria. Ria, if you're reading this, I love you. You make the days more bearable with your witty little comments about my love of a certain maths teacher's "peachy" arse. Ah, that old man really does have the most squeezable- ANYWAY. Yes. I love Ria like I love soft mints.
The second is my own personal goth whore. Keesh. This is your turn. And Caitlin and I have a plan to chuck you into the river when we take you camping this summer. I don't recall telling you that.
The third is to my peoples. Peoples like Schweird. Gotta have a bit o' Schweird in your life. And the inferiors.
The fourth is to an American. Even if he is American, I guess I still love him. And his artistic interpretations of Bill Cosby.
The fifth is to Mamma Dunford. Who I hear has been staying faithful to Daphne. Which I love.
The sixth is to you, if you took the time to read this crap.
Love. Luck. Tea.

Daphne.

NB: Yes, the title IS quoting Vera Lynn/ Elvis/ Rod Stewart/ Van Morrison- whichever you prefer. Let's go with the beautiful Vera Lynn.

Grammar, Disciples, and A Reich.

Oh, woe is me. ~melodramatic sigh~ You see, I keep making little spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes. They pain me. One of these days i'MmA typ3 lIk3 th1s jUsT 2 mAk3 a p01nT.
Moving on, my pretties, I have another tale of woe for ye all. All three of you beautiful people. The tale of woe is this; we are thin on the ground. My many disciples have not come flocking as I'd planned. Now, I hate to sound whiney and all over t'interwebs, but, I need to suck some more t'interweb trawlers into my orbit. But, how? You see, mortals, the only reason I still bring myself to do this when I get the chance is because I like your comments. We need more comments, to build a Reich zat vill last a zousand yars! -That was me immitating Hitler. I feel I should point out here, that I am not a Nazi. I swing neither left, nor right. Nor any other way for that matter. Just saying. I'm digging myself an even deeper hole now, so let me finish this little digging session with: swing whichever way you will, children. Just don't do drugs, and always use protection. Too much?
A nugget of wisdom: (and I will even make it deep and meaningful for you 'orrible lot) Do as ye will, but harm ye none. Wiccan rede.
Love. Luck. Tea.

Daphne.

Borrowers, Mud Tents, And Lace.

Hello, my pretties! Where have I been these past fifteen days, I hear you cry? Well, my dears, I have been everywhere. Every little corner of my mind has been searched. And all for nothing inparticular. Simply, you wombats, because I've had nothing else to do. I thought about meaningless things, like me as a Borrower. YOU as a Borrower. I thought about building a tent of mud at Glastonbury. I thought about te best way to mend lace.
What's next? You tell me.

Daphne.