Afternoon, m'lovely jubblies. TODAY I WENT CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. I wonder what it is in the human mind that causes us to want to kill for the last bottle of Bailey's, gauge out eyes over wrapping paper, and lunge for the throats of stroppy teenage shop assisstants...
On the subject of Christmas shopping, why is it that every year we all agree to do 'Secret Santa' and yet there's always that one girl (or other non-denominational human being) that gets prezzies at the begining of November, and you somehow end up buying for fourteen people, AND a Weasley sized family. One of these days, I'll have to start watering the money tree...
Daphne
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Saturday, 17 December 2011
Humpty Dumpty, Fat Kids On Tyre Swings, and Synthetic Milk.
Children! Children settle down! ~ehem~ Enough of my patronising you, and let me first apologise to my err three dedicated followers, for abonding you for almost a month. I am ashamed, believe me. And another apology to my fantastica friend, Ria, a mortal I befriended on Earth, to whom I promised to blog last night, and I would have, if I hadn't have found myself in someone's front room, with a load of teenagers (one wearing a 'Strongbow' box as a hat?). Anyway, salutations.
Lately, les examens have been swallowing me up, like Humpty Dumpty and his secret alcohol addiction. Think about it...why else would he be sat on a wall, if he knew he was an awkward shape to balance? It's like putting a fat kid on a tyre swing. Sorry...that was unpeacy.
At the aforementioned mortal's request, here it is...A nugget of wisdom: "Argh! There's synthetic milk on my face!"
Daphne
Lately, les examens have been swallowing me up, like Humpty Dumpty and his secret alcohol addiction. Think about it...why else would he be sat on a wall, if he knew he was an awkward shape to balance? It's like putting a fat kid on a tyre swing. Sorry...that was unpeacy.
At the aforementioned mortal's request, here it is...A nugget of wisdom: "Argh! There's synthetic milk on my face!"
Daphne
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Jeremy Clarkson
Ah, Jezza. Shall I count the ways in which I love you?
1. Your hair. Beautiful in its own right.
2. Your dress sense. To pull off brown suede is a dying art, Jezza.
3. Your uncalled for stressing of every other word; the orators of Rome would fall and weep, knowing any effort they made would surely be but a dying candle to your speech, sir.
4. Your bluntness.
5. Your exquisite vocabulary. (By this I mean cars, and things I have no real understanding of.)
6. The slightly unhinged look you have about you most of the time.
Yeah, there are six things...today's was one big nugget of wisdom- bon appetit.
Daphne.
1. Your hair. Beautiful in its own right.
2. Your dress sense. To pull off brown suede is a dying art, Jezza.
3. Your uncalled for stressing of every other word; the orators of Rome would fall and weep, knowing any effort they made would surely be but a dying candle to your speech, sir.
4. Your bluntness.
5. Your exquisite vocabulary. (By this I mean cars, and things I have no real understanding of.)
6. The slightly unhinged look you have about you most of the time.
Yeah, there are six things...today's was one big nugget of wisdom- bon appetit.
Daphne.
Sunday, 13 November 2011
Lest We Forget.
And with my love of Lieutenant George and the rest of Blackadder's beautiful cast, comes the necessary respect for our war heroes. So, with the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember.
Today I got up at an hour I didn't think existed on a Sunday, piled on a thick sheet of powder, lippy, and mascara to cover up my mistake-of-a-late-night, and pulled on the forties gear. Very nearly stabbed myself awake trying to put the poppy onto my black coat, and rushed out of the house to get to church for Remembrance service. I'm not, by usual standards, religious. But today I went with the Brownies (that I'm semi-incharge of...that might be an overstatement...I volunteer) and put down a wreath on behalf of the guides, although I'm a little too old to be considered a guide now. Church wasn't as cold as I feared. But my mind did wonder to my old Army Cadet det. parading in Dorchester...
Nugget of wisdom: the Germans took 5 million Russian prisoners of war throughout the second world war.
Daphne.
Today I got up at an hour I didn't think existed on a Sunday, piled on a thick sheet of powder, lippy, and mascara to cover up my mistake-of-a-late-night, and pulled on the forties gear. Very nearly stabbed myself awake trying to put the poppy onto my black coat, and rushed out of the house to get to church for Remembrance service. I'm not, by usual standards, religious. But today I went with the Brownies (that I'm semi-incharge of...that might be an overstatement...I volunteer) and put down a wreath on behalf of the guides, although I'm a little too old to be considered a guide now. Church wasn't as cold as I feared. But my mind did wonder to my old Army Cadet det. parading in Dorchester...
Nugget of wisdom: the Germans took 5 million Russian prisoners of war throughout the second world war.
Daphne.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
The Adventures of a Golden Slipper Woman, and Friends.
Everyone! I've not been buried by an avalanche- much to the disappointment of humans around me, I'm sure. Meh. Humans continue to confuse and repulse me, so it's no crying shame...
I joke, I joke. I'm a "people person" or whatever you call it. And today's post will be all about people. So, have you noticed that in every hotel, campsite, and resort, there is ALWAYS the golden slipper woman? By this I mean a woman who, classicly on campsites, can be heard at midnight shrieking with tipsy laughter, dancing around in a negligee that really should have been replaced with something sturdy and less silky (more, say, concrete) a good dozen years ago. In the morning you'll often find this rare breed nursing a slight hangover, shuffling around in her golden slippers, drawing on the end of the timeless 'roll up'.
Next, we have the camp straight man. Need I explain more?
The country bumpkin: commonly found near the Farmer's Market, looking confused, chewing on straw.
The Eccentric. Big hair, funny blazer, buck toothed, crazed-eyed, public school boy- well, typically, anyway.
There are many many more, but they will have to come later, as, quite frankly, I'm knackered. And I've been running off six hours' broken sleep for atleast 4 days now. 10.00 pm. Sweet dreams, humans.
A nugget of wisdom: Ask the golden slipper woman. She told the bumpkin, but he's shy, so you might be better off asking ol' George the eccentric...
-Daphne
I joke, I joke. I'm a "people person" or whatever you call it. And today's post will be all about people. So, have you noticed that in every hotel, campsite, and resort, there is ALWAYS the golden slipper woman? By this I mean a woman who, classicly on campsites, can be heard at midnight shrieking with tipsy laughter, dancing around in a negligee that really should have been replaced with something sturdy and less silky (more, say, concrete) a good dozen years ago. In the morning you'll often find this rare breed nursing a slight hangover, shuffling around in her golden slippers, drawing on the end of the timeless 'roll up'.
Next, we have the camp straight man. Need I explain more?
The country bumpkin: commonly found near the Farmer's Market, looking confused, chewing on straw.
The Eccentric. Big hair, funny blazer, buck toothed, crazed-eyed, public school boy- well, typically, anyway.
There are many many more, but they will have to come later, as, quite frankly, I'm knackered. And I've been running off six hours' broken sleep for atleast 4 days now. 10.00 pm. Sweet dreams, humans.
A nugget of wisdom: Ask the golden slipper woman. She told the bumpkin, but he's shy, so you might be better off asking ol' George the eccentric...
-Daphne
Saturday, 29 October 2011
The Sadistic Art Of Pumpkin Carving.
Who was it that came up with this daft idea? I bet it was the Protestants.
Still, as a little'un I used to cherish the afternoon spent elbow depth in a stringy, weird smelling vegetable. Actually, it might be a fruit...ask the Protestants.
However, I have come to question the logic of carving a face into said plant. You see, this year I think we should all carve dentists into them. It'd do a better job of scaring away the children high on sugar- et voila! The children's teeth are mercifully saved by our artistic genius, and willingness to break the tradition of triangular toothed, slit eyed fregetables (I still haven't decided if it's a fruit or a vegetable.) and we get to keep the sweets. A great night for everybody.
Should the dentist pumpkin fail, I will just have to open the door and insist on reciting the first 15 stanzas of Virgil's Aeneid. That'll teach them.
A nugget of wisdom: (this is not so much a nugget of wisdom, as something that was just requested of me) My mum just told me to make pumpkin cake. PUMPKIN CAKE. I CAN FEED THIS TO THE CHILDREN. MWHOA HAHAHHAHAHAAAA. They won't know what hit them.
Still, as a little'un I used to cherish the afternoon spent elbow depth in a stringy, weird smelling vegetable. Actually, it might be a fruit...ask the Protestants.
However, I have come to question the logic of carving a face into said plant. You see, this year I think we should all carve dentists into them. It'd do a better job of scaring away the children high on sugar- et voila! The children's teeth are mercifully saved by our artistic genius, and willingness to break the tradition of triangular toothed, slit eyed fregetables (I still haven't decided if it's a fruit or a vegetable.) and we get to keep the sweets. A great night for everybody.
Should the dentist pumpkin fail, I will just have to open the door and insist on reciting the first 15 stanzas of Virgil's Aeneid. That'll teach them.
A nugget of wisdom: (this is not so much a nugget of wisdom, as something that was just requested of me) My mum just told me to make pumpkin cake. PUMPKIN CAKE. I CAN FEED THIS TO THE CHILDREN. MWHOA HAHAHHAHAHAAAA. They won't know what hit them.
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Half three...
Ahreet, pet?
For those of you who don't speak Geordie, that was 'Alright, pet?'. One day my Geordie will be fluent.
Apparently the people of America don't say the time like we do. This is what I learnt last night. "Half three" seems to confuse them a tad. Perhaps I should explain what happened....
The beauty of webcams, my friends, something to ponder. How to use a webcam, something greater to ponder. I have absolutely no idea. I let Emma fiddle about with it, and smiled and waved at appropriate intervals. Anyhow, it was such a laugh- I've never been high fived over the t'interwebs before. Try it.
Cures for headaches, people? Fatherman thought I'd been 'on the lash'...no such luck.
A nugget of wisdom: never leave Emma near traffic. It can only end badly.
-Daphne.
For those of you who don't speak Geordie, that was 'Alright, pet?'. One day my Geordie will be fluent.
Apparently the people of America don't say the time like we do. This is what I learnt last night. "Half three" seems to confuse them a tad. Perhaps I should explain what happened....
The beauty of webcams, my friends, something to ponder. How to use a webcam, something greater to ponder. I have absolutely no idea. I let Emma fiddle about with it, and smiled and waved at appropriate intervals. Anyhow, it was such a laugh- I've never been high fived over the t'interwebs before. Try it.
Cures for headaches, people? Fatherman thought I'd been 'on the lash'...no such luck.
A nugget of wisdom: never leave Emma near traffic. It can only end badly.
-Daphne.
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