tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68125826767662849632024-03-07T06:25:33.856+00:00Natalie UninterruptedOne woman's opinions on anything she decides to have an opinion on...Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-79505021651010738972011-02-09T21:43:00.003+00:002011-02-09T21:46:15.926+00:00Something NewFollowing a humongous absence...I shall be blogging my Restaurant Review Column for those who don't get The Messenger - the monthly Manchester magazine.<br /><br />What excitement!Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-63230724084390644572009-08-25T19:25:00.004+01:002009-08-25T19:34:09.995+01:00My recent email interchange...The below is a transcription of a recent email exchange between myself and Peter Rigby. I was attempting to email Peter Rigby - my foster sister's father, in relation to wedding arrangements for his daughter.<br /><br />My sister suggested I put it up here for the amusement of others. I have blanked out our email addresses for obvious reasons.<br /><br />As per all email exchanges, start at the bottom and work your way up.<br /><br />:-)<br /><br />----- Forwarded Message ----<br />From: "P.rigby@xxx.com" <ap.rigby@xxx.com><br />To: NATALIE B <XXX@btinternet.com><br />Sent: Tuesday, 25 August, 2009 2:26:20 PM<br />Subject: Re: Rachel's wedding and table<br /><br />Don't forget the oil-streaked bit of the stripper... that sounds like it would really liven up the hen party...<br /><br />Afraid I have to confess that you really have got the wrong Peter -although if I were the real Peter I would also be amused that you were embarrassed so him and I must have something in common!<br /><br />And yes, I will regale this story at future dinner parties, I hope you get over the embarrassment.<br /><br />Would be interested to learn how you come upon my email address in the first place?<br /><br />Peter<br /><br />Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device<br /><br />From: NATALIE B<br />Date: Mon, 24 Aug 2009 21:08:33 +0000 (GMT)<br />To: <p.rigby@xxx.com><br />Subject: Re: Rachel's wedding and table<br /><br />Do I sincerely have the wrong Peter..?<br /><br /> <br /><br />The real Peter would think it amusing to pretend it wasn't himself so I felt excruciatingly embarrassed at having discussed gyrating strippers to an utter stranger... I'm all in a confusion now.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I'm terribly sorry if you are the wrong Peter. But looking on the bright side, I'm sure secretly you are utterly delighted to have erroneously received the below - it's a good dinner party anecdote surely! :-)<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br />From: "p.rigby@xxx.com" <p.rigby@xxx.com><br />To: NATALIE B <xxx@btinternet.com><br />Sent: Monday, 24 August, 2009 12:44:58 PM<br />Subject: Re: Rachel's wedding and table<br /><br />Hi Natalie, I think you have the wrong Peter...<br /><br />That said... I think its only fair that you arrange a gyrating, oil slicked stripper for Ray's hen night... I will let you know if I am available -hen nights are free!<br /><br />Peter (the wrong one)<br /><br />Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device<br /><br />From: NATALIE B<br />Date: Mon, 24 Aug 2009 08:53:15 +0000 (GMT)<br />To: p.rigby@xxx.com<br />Subject: Rachel's wedding and table<br /><br /> <br /><br />Hi Peter,<br /><br /> <br /><br />How are you? I hope my mother behaved herself for you and Carol...<br /><br /> <br /><br />Two things:<br /><br /> <br /><br />One, I heard you are looking to get rid of an old desk. I'm looking for a desk - I'm converting my dining room into a reading room and would like a writing desk. I wonder if you would consider selling it to me - and how much would you like.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Two, there is NO WAY I am arranging a bl**dy stripper for Ray's hen night. If she wants one, tough titty. I'm the chief bridesmaid in charge of organising the hen night and it will be a quiet, calm affair with no baby lotion and gyrating men thank you very much! Just had to clarify that. I have my reputation to protect and all...<br /><br /> <br /><br />Pass on my regards to Carol and speak soon!<br /><br /> <br /><br />Love Natalie xxNataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-21890435549788585842009-07-22T22:23:00.009+01:002009-08-02T22:44:51.159+01:00A Pre-Raphaelite Dr Who would do well for me thank you very muchI have just finished watching 'Desperate Romantics' - the new BBC six part series on the lives of the Pre-Raphaelites. I was terribly excited on hearing of its impending arrival several weeks ago - the Pre-Raphaelites have been my favourite art group since I was first introduced to them by my terribly boho and bearded art teacher, Mr Grundy, when I was about fourteen. (For anyone who also loves their work and isn't aware - the Manchester Art Gallery has a fantastic 19c room holding a briliant permanent collection of their stuff. <br /><br />Excitingly they have one of the Ophelia paintings. Not the infamous Millais' 'bath-based' one (my favourite of all theirs, no doubt in part due to near-tragedy tied up with its creation) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYzbdPu-NqBGPr6xhWFdeU6_vAjAFlPetDubcaH6Fl5McrJW4ZdOyp8C-pkYtORiLttzBnv61fd250fDcX3gUdGL-788f1-ZP_XAk9iamf29G95ORyWHMSM8K-i03nBpOZJJd4FyHTqU/s1600-h/millais.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYzbdPu-NqBGPr6xhWFdeU6_vAjAFlPetDubcaH6Fl5McrJW4ZdOyp8C-pkYtORiLttzBnv61fd250fDcX3gUdGL-788f1-ZP_XAk9iamf29G95ORyWHMSM8K-i03nBpOZJJd4FyHTqU/s200/millais.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361399599808915250" /></a><br /><br />but the lesser-known Hughes' which features Ophelia on her branch just before her fall.) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0nETAbu222AfaX9IEPidYP6mNOISCKXahV0ySEgoZ8jTLDoqBBO1-tAWPIyZgKhsTIVWIwBuMr0kFF7EXfbae3JkMACanViUjjjl87QDDJuKtwTEhXOZO_qACcnR7QwXHx4TwjLFcgs/s1600-h/hughes1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0nETAbu222AfaX9IEPidYP6mNOISCKXahV0ySEgoZ8jTLDoqBBO1-tAWPIyZgKhsTIVWIwBuMr0kFF7EXfbae3JkMACanViUjjjl87QDDJuKtwTEhXOZO_qACcnR7QwXHx4TwjLFcgs/s200/hughes1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361400085153267090" /></a><br /><br />The series thus far is fantastic - it couldn't fail to be really, the PRBs are an ideal meld of artistic andeavour, bohemianism, rebellion, debauchery and idealism... all wrapped up in period costume and out of this world names like, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (It is I think the finest name ever conceived. It makes one swoon just reading it surely :-) ) <br /><br />Watching it, however, got me wishing that the wardrobe department of the Desperate Romantics had been brought in to dress Matt Smith this week. If anyone hasn't seen, (and is at all interested!) the sneak previews of the new Dr Who garb, look see:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPl3KgMNQjuEYPy42r5oD-jzgDNyfFlEcDXfdgC2WJiI6VqOqZjniuwSiw7lCRLDJU66VMrE9a5yrHXFTqHksonRuTFNQzUl4G8SYI73Wz7C3e3AXjaYClzlZ3SzE3JgDYld1n4HRQHuI/s1600-h/_46086374_doctor_who226long.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPl3KgMNQjuEYPy42r5oD-jzgDNyfFlEcDXfdgC2WJiI6VqOqZjniuwSiw7lCRLDJU66VMrE9a5yrHXFTqHksonRuTFNQzUl4G8SYI73Wz7C3e3AXjaYClzlZ3SzE3JgDYld1n4HRQHuI/s200/_46086374_doctor_who226long.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361402582919791138" /></a><br /><br />As most know, I have been finding it hard to deal with the imminent departure of Dear David, my Dr Who par excellence. Viewing the new look Dr Who has NOT allayed my fears in the slightest. I mean... WFT!! Who the bollocks was responsible for THAT get up?? WTF are they doing putting a bow tie on a TWENTY YEAR OLD?? I can only assume this abberation of good sense is attributable to some desire to make him look more grown up - given the debacle about his age... In which case - why didnt they just choose an older actor?? If that's not the reason in any event... and this is presumably then some crass effort to acheive the Dr Who 'eccentric Englishman' look, there are plenty of more inspired and sophisticated ways to achieve his brand of vintage geek... without resort to something so crudely obvious as a bow tie and tweed. <br /><br />Have they nooo subtley.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-16908694444714172092009-06-13T09:14:00.002+01:002009-06-13T09:18:54.150+01:00Wandering through the aisles of the Co-op several weeks ago I happened across a most wonderfully labelled packet of food in the deli section.<br /><br />'Ambient sausage-rolls'<br /><br />Utterly intriguing.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-45604662461728056542009-03-18T20:00:00.002+00:002009-03-18T20:23:15.053+00:00So. Two substantial changes planned for the House of Barbosa in the near future.<br /><br />First change. For a one-month trial period, I shall be upgrading to 'Vegan'. This next step of my journey to Sainthood has been some while in the coming; my addiction to all things cheese has however, caused no end of procrastination. I feel the time has now come, nevertheless, for me to step into a new world of dairylessness. <br /><br />I am actually quite looking forward to it. The family aren't. Understandably. In mitigation I would say I am not a demanding veggie, thus, there is no reason to expect me to be anything other than my unexacting self as a vegan.<br /><br />Change number two. Having decided I shall resist the urge to move out of my current abode immediate upon qualification, and anticipating my search for London-based employment to be futile in the current climes, I have decided to do some home-improvements.<br /><br />Particularly, I shall be granting myself one of my 'One hundred things to do before I die' wishes, and shall gift myself my own library. Handily converted from the currently-existing dining room.<br /><br />This is horrendously exciting. First improvement will be to take up the carpet and revert to the lovely original wooden floorboards (originally covered over as plebeian house-hunters apparently prefer carpet. Will require large sanding machine and glaze or some such thing I reckon) Second, as an utter cliche, but nonetheless a marvelous one, the purchase of a large old leather armchair.n(Sudden thought, I pledged to buy no more leather furniture. Hmmm - perhaps this aspect needs some reassessment). Third, purchase of a 'full of character and charmingly battered' writing table. Fourth, import of Persian rug from lounge into 'library'. Fifth, naturally, installation of multitude of book shelves.<br /><br />Oh joyful.<br /><br />I should take up pipe-smoking too. That'd work.<br /><br />Which would itself require a smoking-jacket of course. Red and black silk blatantly. <br /><br />Maybe a Fez even.<br /><br />Oh the possibilities. If only I could install a domed roof...Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-14690484225112393202009-02-02T18:44:00.003+00:002009-02-02T18:51:51.732+00:00Sleeping with your eyes openA friend’s birthday this weekend saw me holed up in an idyllic and remote 17th century Welsh cottage/farmhouse.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwIbOjde42f3i9emk8T-BQ-jTNuLdxxKCLHawNna-HC-1lMyLHuxWEulFmaE9oU3hR918JdxUMHz6YSNPPsjRw8aWVCPujTm7SYZ7L9XlbAgjhQQldfCNUZ5cB15Twlrkx4dyWVg9EQl4/s1600-h/farm"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwIbOjde42f3i9emk8T-BQ-jTNuLdxxKCLHawNna-HC-1lMyLHuxWEulFmaE9oU3hR918JdxUMHz6YSNPPsjRw8aWVCPujTm7SYZ7L9XlbAgjhQQldfCNUZ5cB15Twlrkx4dyWVg9EQl4/s200/farm" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298274254397023810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDPjM9KH_E7v8qhsA2K3yKJtVkVD4Wtg5NMjjGK4oT3WTBnGkOmBkYJWto_UrXPyYGsaDSZ29-qi8AXRafHhMikmLivOUzPoWWyPeluzl9LEZOWdoEtFBZW4EVjYsKPbijS7UyqT6Kas/s1600-h/dining"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDPjM9KH_E7v8qhsA2K3yKJtVkVD4Wtg5NMjjGK4oT3WTBnGkOmBkYJWto_UrXPyYGsaDSZ29-qi8AXRafHhMikmLivOUzPoWWyPeluzl9LEZOWdoEtFBZW4EVjYsKPbijS7UyqT6Kas/s200/dining" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298274250872709266" /></a><br /><br />As the pictures demonstrate, wood panelling and stone-flagged floor were in abundance – as was a massive open fire, which promptly became the focus of the weekends activities. The first evening was spent mainly in the enormous dining room as our eagerness to ‘play with the fire’ resulted in us utterly flooding the lounge with smoke. A note to all fire neophytes – DO NOT place more than three logs at once on an old open fire. You are inviting the firebrigade otherwise.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlg-2wE4v8MkgvJ9pE9DgwEu7_NJIz6vgEFbYedVXXg8psPgfJ9FJX5BK6vi0HsohcKoL7_IRwra3LPKqU0gnx7doV_yTUhtQ0hhckRH7RDq4SmjNdim-pQ0_RW3ufwtYZGGZ2RV6hdU0/s1600-h/bed+2"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlg-2wE4v8MkgvJ9pE9DgwEu7_NJIz6vgEFbYedVXXg8psPgfJ9FJX5BK6vi0HsohcKoL7_IRwra3LPKqU0gnx7doV_yTUhtQ0hhckRH7RDq4SmjNdim-pQ0_RW3ufwtYZGGZ2RV6hdU0/s200/bed+2" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298274475666886226" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMhuV0GxWlUc3BHboiqfARQaJYfLX5ZsHdNy9wjlg9RslVWDS5Acg254Aovdwv6bCIKV5Hyal2ZrLzANryOIpgF24ZaXua_BvBb-tqyJ9S8mmTcyVAEKcsb9u9a6sqIz_fOU4pRh_yH8/s1600-h/bed3"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMhuV0GxWlUc3BHboiqfARQaJYfLX5ZsHdNy9wjlg9RslVWDS5Acg254Aovdwv6bCIKV5Hyal2ZrLzANryOIpgF24ZaXua_BvBb-tqyJ9S8mmTcyVAEKcsb9u9a6sqIz_fOU4pRh_yH8/s200/bed3" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298274476688062770" /></a><br /><br />The most exciting part of the weekend I think, excepting the new found ‘cow-racing’ game on the Weeeeeee, was by sojourn in the most beautiful four poster bed i have ever had the opportunity to sleep in. It is/was ENORMOUS, an Empress I am guessing.. but I can never remember the names for bed sizes above King so I can’t be sure. <br /><br /><br /><br />I was devastated to discover that I would not be inhibiting the double bed room – it was rightly reserved for the birthday boy and his wife. However, being the hippy-esque couple they are, at 3am in the morning as we all staggered into our respective rooms, Matthew kindly offered to allow me the opportunity to pass the night in the Wonder-bed. (No smutty thoughts please – we are all grown ups here...)<br /><br />After an appropriate period of refusals with thanks, I gleefully relented and jumped in excitedly next to Claire.<br /><br />Now ordinarily (that is in circumstances where one hasn’t imbibed several bottles of wine and glasses of port) the incident would have ended here. But naturally being drunk, I had to push my luck. As Matt turned out the lights and all went quiet, I began to moan loudly that things were not as they should be. That much as i appreciated the offer of spending the night in the Empress Four Poster and fantastically many-beamed room – there was simply no point in me being in it – if the room was so dark, I wasn’t aware I was indeed IN IT!<br /><br />Matt – being of a most patient and quick-witted nature, and perhaps knowing that if he didn’t act quickly, I could continue in the same vein for hours, jumped out of the bed and rummaged through his rucsack.<br /><br />Within moments a hend-held torch was on my bed-side table. Matt upended it and turned on the beam to reveal the full splendour of the old beams and tapestried bed roof.<br />To his question of whether this was ok – I could now go to sleep happily aware that I was in the Wonder-Room - I relied enthusiastically... that it was now perfect, my dream-bed experience was just as it should be.<br /><br />I am sure the beam of light spent many an hour marvelling at the glint of the mahogany in the evening light. Shame that I could not enjoin as I have yet to discover how to sleep with my eyes open, indeed I was asleep before Matt returned to his side of the bed.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-66152440325920531602009-01-09T20:31:00.002+00:002009-01-09T20:36:54.903+00:00Hamlet 'n' stuffSo seven months after by initial booking... I finally attended my much anticipated evening with Mr Tennant and colleagues. It was touch and go for a while whether he would actually return due to his back injury in late December but, praise be to the Lord, he arrived back on the boards the very day of MY arrival!<br /><br />The cost and wait was infinitely worth it - he was quite marvellous... naturally :-) . I won’t give a critique of the play – as I have little capacity for that, but I’ll venture to categorise him in short as an energetic and humorous Hamlet who really brought to the fore his self-hatred and desperation at his own seeming cowardice. (and breathe...)<br /><br />The cast on the whole were all utterly stunning – Polonious especially was fabulous and hysterically funny. One really notable feature was the sense one felt of Polonious/Ophelia/Laertes as a tight family unit... which I have never seen particularly presented in that light before. Coming from a close-knit quad myself, I really connected with them and watching them interact with each other was quite touching. For the first time ever, I felt a total sympathy with Laertes for his plans to murder Hamlet. <br /><br />I received news today of what may well be my next theatre trip... the musical adaptation of... The Thornbirds!! My visit will be utterly post-modern ironic...NATURALLY . I suspect I shall, for the sake of tradition, attend chez mother... she and I having shared beating breasts for the Thornbird saga... and R Chamberlain in the eighties.<br /><br />Notable reads for this entry is my current which is the collected diaries of Kenneth Tynan. I sincerely think he is a SERIOUS contender for a seat at my ideal dinner party. Which is some feat as it has remained unchanged for about six years! I REALLY don't know who I can oust though. CLEARLY can’t be Nature’s greatest creation ever ... and Shakespeare is unthinkable! Can I then REALLY oust Alan B?? I <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> I suppose just extend my party to five – but that would be CHEATING surely shirley??<br /><br /> I don’t know, I really just don’t know. I must give this issue more thought... one can’t rush these things can one?Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-4018975494884921582008-11-20T19:57:00.005+00:002008-11-20T20:16:02.201+00:00Missing MilesI have been missing terribly Miles Kington's wonderful articles since<br />his passing, so last week did I a quick search of<br />The Independent Online to find some of his stuff that I may have<br />missed. <br /><br />And in an ecological outrage, printed a load of his stuff off to read on my<br />journey home.<br /><br />(Penance of one sapling planting to be carried out shortly.)<br /><br />For those of you who may not have come across him, Miles Kington was<br />one of the Independent's regular columnists and the best thing in the<br />Independent for the 22 years he wrote in it. What i think I loved so much about his writing was that unusually for a satirist, his tone was utterly lacking in bitterness and instead had an apparent warmth for whatever subject he mocked.<br /><br />If you did miss out on him - you really should indulge in reading some<br />of the links below, especially the first which is an example of his most prolific column entry - the minutes of the meetings of the 'United Deities'. I suppose they count as a series and probably/hopefully a collection of them will be put together as a book some day. <br /><br />(PS. Apologies - my understanding of blogger.com does not extend to how to do the 'link' thing so you can simply click and the article pops up. Copy and paste is the height of my sophistication in bloggness. )<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The lord Thy God is a little likely to fly off the handle</span><br />http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/columnists/miles-kington/miles-kington-remembered-the-lord-thy-god-is-a-little-liable-to-fly-off-the-handle-876682.html<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bah humbug its the annual Christmas card debate</span><br />http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/columnists/miles-kington/miles-kington-bah-humbug-its-the-annual-christmas-card-debate-425258.html<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Oh to be in England now the Britishness test is there</span><br />http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/columnists/miles-kington/oh-to-be-in-england-now-the-britishness-test-is-there-578804.html<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">A few handy tips for the minefield of modern manners</span><br />http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/columnists/miles-kington/miles-kington-remembered-a-few-handy-tips-for-the-minefield-of-modern-manners-787833.htmlNataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-18066118390057889052008-10-30T19:48:00.000+00:002008-10-30T19:49:44.314+00:00I knew the day was coming and I have been trying to prepare myself for it for some time.<br /> <br />The End of Tennant’s Days as Doctor.<br /> <br />Oh, that I should ever live to see it.<br /> <br />Foolish, vain hope that this time would never come to pass.<br /> <br />Love indeed IS blind.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-20600953754686272342008-09-01T19:19:00.002+01:002008-09-04T18:55:55.298+01:00I’ve been on a reading roll for the past five or so months. And by that I mean, everything I have been reading I have really got along well with. Most of my reads have been those that have been on my ‘Must Read’ list for several years. Ones that for one reason or another have been passed up in favour of others.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I could wax lyrical about all of them (with the exception of TWO. A.S. Byatt, Persuasion and surprisingly, Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and The Margarita – both of whom I begun twice and drifted away from twice)<br /><br /> <br /><br />The most memorable of all prize will undoubtedly go to my current, The Kite Runner. I am at page 277 and will finish it tonight. Mostly when I finish a book I enjoy I feel rather sad and ‘miss’ it for the couple of days or more it takes me to find another and hit that stage of ‘engrossment’ you get where you can’t wait for your lunch hour, journey home etc so you can start reading it again.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I am not sure whether I will experience that feeling tonight, despite the fact I think the book extraordinary and utterly engaging.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Reason being is that I have been feeling mostly pretty upset throughout reading the book. Today I cried for the fifth time. The first session I had with it, I sobbed. So much so in fact that when I got off the train in tears and got into my car, I had to sit at the wheel for five minutes purging my sadness before I was in state to start driving home! I then went to bed that night sobbing also.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I don’t think I am unusual in this respect. The Kite Runner was pressed upon me by my sister who warned me that I would find it difficult. My boss looked almost fearful when catching sight of it upon my desk and a colleague informed me he had comforted his girlfriend only a few months ago as she worked her way through it.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I’m sure most regular readers will have actually read it by now. As with most books, I am terribly behind the times. If you haven’t though, I do recommend it and a box three-ply of tissues.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Re. future reads…..I am sun-holidaying next month and require a couple of suitable books therefore. I do think that holiday books are a genre of their own and don’t have any front-running candidates at the moment. If anyone has any recommendations, I would most gratefully hear them.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-4631740780048244912008-08-02T18:04:00.016+01:002008-08-05T20:18:10.270+01:00A 'small' feature on peignoir sets.A peignoir set is one the most elegant and beautiful of the vintage clothing types in my eyes. Although often referred to as lingerie, I wouldn’t call them such – they are bed clothes/night wear/‘floating around the house clothes’ as I call them. I kind of see them as the female equivalent of the men’s ‘smoking jacket’, though admittedly many of them are too sheer for accepting any house-callers in!<br /> <br />Some of them are however so absolutely fabulous that you could get away with wearing them nowadays as a ball/cocktail dress – which some of the more daring vintage-wearers do actually do. <br /> <br />So, a peignoir set comprises a slip and a robe. The word peignoir comes from the French peigner - ‘to comb one’s hair’… and you WILL have seen these in a dozen silver screen movies where, true to their conception, Doris Day et al would be sat at their dressing tables brushing their hair whilst wearing them. As if by magic, I have some very pictures of silver screeners fashioing peignoirs of the time...<br /><br />Herewith we have the lovely Ms Veronica Lake - <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Qp2dFvovJ_D3cO2avzqzFuAtnfllqJ5P8e9Pzqcv2eAQ-h_0v_BDWGscyfd0WjzbkQde4esxaw8kIBN0FNn9phDq_nqPTa0Dj33umb-jOF2EAwPuYY3qtkr6-2FwudRyLlh26cM_jw/s1600-h/vlake16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Qp2dFvovJ_D3cO2avzqzFuAtnfllqJ5P8e9Pzqcv2eAQ-h_0v_BDWGscyfd0WjzbkQde4esxaw8kIBN0FNn9phDq_nqPTa0Dj33umb-jOF2EAwPuYY3qtkr6-2FwudRyLlh26cM_jw/s200/vlake16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231103019279284018" /></a><br /><br />And then a lovely photo of Ann Sheridan (by dressing table of course):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9ELinFgPqg9GanzVzRxshGwGD1hOPcfhatW6J4HXwvIz5YyCrbrUYCXBKt8NX2PaV5fqMPPOvouxyOZcUMBlCW-peVhVTwoJCoLcgb4n0NXSR9ElWctg4yfqamUxnPH_9H_jJwdsLTc/s1600-h/annsheridansmokes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9ELinFgPqg9GanzVzRxshGwGD1hOPcfhatW6J4HXwvIz5YyCrbrUYCXBKt8NX2PaV5fqMPPOvouxyOZcUMBlCW-peVhVTwoJCoLcgb4n0NXSR9ElWctg4yfqamUxnPH_9H_jJwdsLTc/s200/annsheridansmokes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231108819958898642" /></a><br /><br />There were two main types in the 40s and 50s – the baby doll, and the ‘Olga’ or ‘Vanity Fair’ (these were the top peignoir producing companies – Olga coined the look really and all other companies merely produced Olga/Vanity fair copies.) Olga and Vanity Fair peignoirs can go for up £400 - but you can get them on ebay for good prices if you look hard – the Dixie Dallas shop is on .co.uk and specialises in both. <br /><br />Baby doll<br /><br /><br /><br />First, an example of the baby doll (which six times out of ten comes in pink) – <br /> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaRGbMIs2aPLsG-G8v_myyM2zqXhNnSdvrykFNz6CP7bDcgJtytWzQQocd7HVnLuweL1WgYhr9DxDlwkbTF4yRJy0CrzJl1AJJcBlMQayRQlmm0zO6378V6MgX8-lQS6yGhZOFJp_SMc/s1600-h/babydoll.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaRGbMIs2aPLsG-G8v_myyM2zqXhNnSdvrykFNz6CP7bDcgJtytWzQQocd7HVnLuweL1WgYhr9DxDlwkbTF4yRJy0CrzJl1AJJcBlMQayRQlmm0zO6378V6MgX8-lQS6yGhZOFJp_SMc/s200/babydoll.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231110346786597826" /></a><br />The baby doll is always high on the neck/round necked, is short (above the knee), kicks out from the bust area. The above shot is of the nightie only. A robe will tie or fasten to cover it completely like so:<br /><br /> <br /><br />Olga/Vanity Fair <br /><br />My favourites. Particularly the classic Olga style (nipped waist, v-cut neck line, full skirt to ankles). Aka this GORGEOUS thing:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzocgR3NXRPAv3bRQe0StBcWCcVOKe055-4A4gQnXzV_lxrX6IVqYHA1OQxGAN90DtWsSvECiVEeZz017_KtAFvLf-8wyjc_w0Si1VaNmJPaab6P93SEPhHY4OGKrAyHsAw-TAiLn7sY/s1600-h/blackolgasetgownrobe04.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzocgR3NXRPAv3bRQe0StBcWCcVOKe055-4A4gQnXzV_lxrX6IVqYHA1OQxGAN90DtWsSvECiVEeZz017_KtAFvLf-8wyjc_w0Si1VaNmJPaab6P93SEPhHY4OGKrAyHsAw-TAiLn7sY/s200/blackolgasetgownrobe04.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231112481547106322" /></a><br /> <br />I am rhapsodic about this set. It’s the most perfectly wonderful set I have ever seen (though not the most expensive actually) <br /><br />The above at $200 would be a pretty good deal compared to this cashmere Saks Fifths Avenue one at $1200 (www.midnightglamour.com):<br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WxQeyANA3HiwwkYKPz1tHrc8ttqDL3xlBPB_qhrXFwolSmFK2Nq0K2zxFvTvBLzQUXX45gtgGhgRikIXQX9xNRAM91fIeWZhG6_2d-V2XV18PkRz8KcJNJZEjD3WEehl4WRTGpuxqwA/s1600-h/saks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WxQeyANA3HiwwkYKPz1tHrc8ttqDL3xlBPB_qhrXFwolSmFK2Nq0K2zxFvTvBLzQUXX45gtgGhgRikIXQX9xNRAM91fIeWZhG6_2d-V2XV18PkRz8KcJNJZEjD3WEehl4WRTGpuxqwA/s200/saks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231112658541743730" /></a><br /> <br />I understand of course that having laid eyes the above most perfect ever Olga you will be overcome by an immediate and pressing desire to own one so as to float gracefully from room to room in your house in it… it is only natural. To this end, so you can go seek and find, I can tell you it is an Olga style number 9788 and 92270. I am certainly NOT, however, not telling you where it is for sale this instance… in case you go and bid for it <br /><br />Other classic Olga examples: <br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWEvY4UBHAkWObQsdinT2QTWlNYSWn3AbhSWPfkLybuf32vJ75c09DsTT0YuxfTIkMjOYh_86q70NGNUfFYtWkqSmahE1yoqA7xqn-RbyDebFT6lyyGMW343LJpRomUeMA-2C7b2oBxj0/s1600-h/olga1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWEvY4UBHAkWObQsdinT2QTWlNYSWn3AbhSWPfkLybuf32vJ75c09DsTT0YuxfTIkMjOYh_86q70NGNUfFYtWkqSmahE1yoqA7xqn-RbyDebFT6lyyGMW343LJpRomUeMA-2C7b2oBxj0/s200/olga1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231109588795731442" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLQ7pXuhTG7yIEQNXW4bdQxWkAFslla6y4SAFR86Yg9umhEvmurr_PfmtUoeMOfxP9ieSgoFInGT1Zw2TvJd6U0d2CQmqwHAzVpgs8B0De72nnPaeCVf4RXGo3-aH_JSgYXScPJEhgcI/s1600-h/327319605.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLQ7pXuhTG7yIEQNXW4bdQxWkAFslla6y4SAFR86Yg9umhEvmurr_PfmtUoeMOfxP9ieSgoFInGT1Zw2TvJd6U0d2CQmqwHAzVpgs8B0De72nnPaeCVf4RXGo3-aH_JSgYXScPJEhgcI/s200/327319605.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231114330075373906" /></a><br /><br />Also made famous by Olga / Vanity Fair, though not in their classic cut are the full length baby doll style aka:<br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VBOGhIR-bpFIHi41GM5WDqYv1uJz414Dfk_j2Ksrq63i1svgCgt5LiNC7x_XB_JDqiTP9EUDbS11n014tjtCdqERI8N_8ntkNf9DjIBCDb0WhPQw5qTev7XVMc5IKfZbrSBhsSDKt1w/s1600-h/yellow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5VBOGhIR-bpFIHi41GM5WDqYv1uJz414Dfk_j2Ksrq63i1svgCgt5LiNC7x_XB_JDqiTP9EUDbS11n014tjtCdqERI8N_8ntkNf9DjIBCDb0WhPQw5qTev7XVMc5IKfZbrSBhsSDKt1w/s200/yellow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231107956771872242" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjfzmu0hsHQ10cY154bHkLOV5VV-w5DalIAhyL8uxzug33lYhngB07ucTjOjIFrMB-Tx79lZMff6NApglM09F3y9LyBxXp8sNMiLjF_578288GcT2BFyCPvg_TxLaR1xuO8wNOcbsHCU/s1600-h/olgarobeblue02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjfzmu0hsHQ10cY154bHkLOV5VV-w5DalIAhyL8uxzug33lYhngB07ucTjOjIFrMB-Tx79lZMff6NApglM09F3y9LyBxXp8sNMiLjF_578288GcT2BFyCPvg_TxLaR1xuO8wNOcbsHCU/s200/olgarobeblue02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231113212362375330" /></a><br /><br />If you are looking for a high ‘floatient factor’, this is the one for you. And on the floatie factor – the ‘floatiness’ is ACTUALLY measured! Peignoirs come with what is called a ‘sweep’ measurement – from about 89 to about 250. 250 denotes being the fullest skirt you can get that will therefore sweep out behing you to the maximum, as you walk. The most perfectly wonderful set above has a 180 sweep.<br /><br />I could show you picture after picture of these lovelinesses but the best place the check them out (though not, I would recommend to buy as you will pay full market rate), is www.midnightglamour.com.<br /><br />I do though have to show you this one as it’s so outrageously indulgent you could have your own personal coronation in it <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuAJMEDnK_ZC3-j4g31NNqfxclSSyN1CArP935Ty_hj4p0rM5b9pO1nR6V9WzasRBNqngw_wVN8MYLv2XIvlmpgIWHIO1I2Y9YZbgiwviEoo1EcZobJSSEXyFdu4QTHQgD4P_d_RzzxJo/s1600-h/coronation.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuAJMEDnK_ZC3-j4g31NNqfxclSSyN1CArP935Ty_hj4p0rM5b9pO1nR6V9WzasRBNqngw_wVN8MYLv2XIvlmpgIWHIO1I2Y9YZbgiwviEoo1EcZobJSSEXyFdu4QTHQgD4P_d_RzzxJo/s200/coronation.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231109999222679922" /></a><br /><br />Above is probably a 350 sweep – or more.<br /><br />So then, slob around the house in a pair of teddy-bear dotted pjs…. or, as an alternative, drift elegantly from room to room smelling flowers and reading urgent telegrams, in one of these decadences. <br /><br />Or some such, I’ve not really got a strong image in my mind about it at all…Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-26241451080428678642008-07-27T20:03:00.001+01:002008-07-27T20:05:21.809+01:00A small confession<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" 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mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I have a confession to make.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Over the past two weeks, I have become… a gamer.<span style=""> </span>Yes. You heard me, a gamer.<span style=""> </span>I am on the game.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And it’s shameful to admit, but........... I love it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m not sure how long I’ll be doing it for. At the moment I am completely addicted though. I can’t wait to get home just to get on it. I just love the outfits I get to wear and the people I meet, especially the ones wearing helmets.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I just intended on doing it for ten days – for free of course, but then money was handed over and that’s just made the whole experience even better. Thing is, I was improving, I was getting better and better and I just couldn’t stop after ten days knowing I could become REALLY experienced. Experience is what makes you a success at it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I mostly do it with a guy call Tabh – I met him the first night I was on it. He’s really muscled and likes to cover himself entirely in chain-mail. He has a thing about pelts and animal skin.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I just stick with normal clothes and prefer covering myself in herbs although there’s obviously lots of exercise involved and it’s really tiring, I’m certainly not anywhere near as buff as he is. Well, I wouldn’t want to be, I think all those muscles are bit OTT.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I spend most of my time chasing Tabh around. I run around in my various outfits thinking,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""> </span><i style="">‘God I look cool in that flowing scarlett robe and gold arcane belt’ <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I run o’er mountain tops to seek out the ‘Orb of Athelrod’. I am attacked by Warlocks from the evil Brotherhood of Defias from the frontiers of Elwynn Forest in the land of Quel’thalas. I rain<i style=""> </i>fire from my ‘Lightstaff of the Owl Hoard’ upon the Horde.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oh yes, I am a WOW geek and proud. I’m gaming and it’s bloody brilliant!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s so completely fantastical – it’s like <u>BEING IN</u> the Lord of the Rings!!!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I get to hear people shout ‘Heal me Calliope!’ and run to their side casting mana-spells hither and thither <span style="">:</span>))). I polymorph my foes and arcane shatter their consorts.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Oh the drama! <span style="font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="">J</span></span><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">No doubt this will whittle away in some weeks – as many of my ‘fads’ do, but for the moment, I only wanna talk about the fact I’m on the game….Exchange commands with me. Boost my stats. Level me up!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/index.xml">http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/index.xml</a></p> Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-24612887543886792362008-07-18T18:18:00.003+01:002008-07-27T20:06:05.607+01:00The warm cloak of God's love<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script>I didn't think anything could make me laugh today.<br /><br />I was wrong.<br /><br />A kind man handed me a leaflet... and it said...<br /><br />My Dear Friend,<br /><br />May I lovingly tell you that one day you will die and open your eyes in another world: either in...<br /><br /><ul><li>A state of supreme happiness and joy, exceeding anything ever known in this life, known as...</li></ul> <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">HEAVEN</span></span><br /><br /><ul><li>A state of unbelievable anguish, pain and torment, exceeding anything ever known in this life, known as...</li></ul> <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">HELL</span></span><br /> (little animation of flames)<br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">There is no annihilation!</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">There is no re-incarnation!</span></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">There is no escape!</span></span></li></ul><br /><br />I just love those kind Christians. They really do uplift one's soul.<br /><br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-4837552059064505722008-07-01T21:23:00.002+01:002008-07-01T21:32:46.015+01:00Pass me the smelling saltsAnother mishap in my professional life occurred yesterday. Quite a stunner too – I give myself ten out of ten for this one - falling down stairs or mistaking strangers for colleagues doesn’t even come close to this.<br /><br />I will regale….<br /><br />It was 4.30 pm in Hill Dickinson’s offices. All 16 members of the Corporate Team were in the main board room for our monthly presentation of business development activities. My mind had begun to wander away from the current presentation of the banking fee earner and so I idly cast my attention upon the plaster wound around the index finger of my left hand.<br /><br />The previous night I had been cooking a fine Italian pasta dish and had neatly sliced across the top of my finger. It had bled somewhat and had been bandaged up by means of a simple cloth plaster. Whilst my mind wandered in the meeting, I was intrigued to discover the state of the finger and thus began to unravel the plaster from around it (remembering of course to smile intermittently at my colleague who has been pursuing some truly wonderful business development activities this month.)<br /><br />The plaster had unfortunately been applied so as to stick somewhat to the wound itself. Removing it caused the wound to open somewhat to reveal unsightliness.<br /><br />(and now, for safety, I shall take a break and go outside for some fresh air for writing this is causing some unpleasant sensations. Truly.)<br /><br />I quickly replaced the plaster after viewing the nauseating sight of raw flesh and tried to ignore the persistent image of the offending wound in my head.<br /><br />The vision continued to plague my mind.<br /><br />I became hot and felt sick. I became aware of the now-echoey voice of my banking colleague.<br /><br />Then all went blank.<br /><br />I fainted.<br /><br />I fainted sat in a board room of 16 colleagues….because of a small cut on my finger.<br /><br />Fortunately when the fainting occurred I was sat down. So it could have been worse.<br /><br />Obviously I know not how long I was ‘out’ for, my consciousness returned prompted by the voices of my colleagues trying to revive me. :))))))))<br /><br />For the first few seconds, my head remained upon my chest and I was rather confused. Then I realised I was conscious and jumped up in my chair announcing quickly ‘Sorry, I just fainted for a minute’<br /><br />EVERYONE was staring at me mouths agape with a repetitive ‘Are you OK?’ being directed at me.<br /><br />Alas, there was no knight of a white steed to sweep me into his saddle and waft smelling salts under my nose. Instead, my good friend and colleague Melanie, a most confident and efficient woman, immediately strode over to my chair, hoisted me up and marched me out of the meeting for ‘air and water’.<br /><br />As I left the room I said, ‘Sorry! I shouldn’t have taken my plaster off.’ (I mean, what the hell was THAT??)<br /><br />I think in all the ensuing comments from colleagues (‘No wonder you’re a vegetarian...’ being one of them) the one that most amused me was my boss’s statement that at first he had ignored me and thought nothing particularly was wrong as, ‘I thought it was just you being dramatic’. <br />Cheers D.<br /><br />So there you go. Another proud achievement for my catalogue of career climbing endeavours.<br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-26412737635582086842008-06-25T22:19:00.002+01:002008-06-25T22:28:23.045+01:00Nothing to write home about<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Another direly dull day at the office. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The effect of this is magnified by the fact I am feeling in a bad mood in any event. No particular reason, I could feel it rising yesterday and now it is soaring high.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Just been out and bought Blindness by Jose Saramango and The Cleft by Doris Lessing. Finished Fatherland by Robert Harris on the train this morning. Prior to that read THE WONDERFUL, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Milan</st1:city></st1:place> Kundera which I <i style="">heartily, heartily</i> recommend to ALL. Oh, I lie, prior to that was the Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers which was also great. Very similar relationship-types featured in the two books, the protagonist male in both being almost mirror-images of each other. This was completely coincidental but reading them side by side I think enhanced my reading experience.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style=""><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Next on my to read list are:</span><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Walden Two – BF Skinner</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Child</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Garden</st1:placetype></st1:place> – Geoff Ryman</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Tropic of Cancer – Henry Miller</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The Glass Bead Game – Herman Hesse</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style=""><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Artists I want to know more about are:</span><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Alfonse Mucha</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Frederic Leighton</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Aubrey Beardsley</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style=""><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">This week's Quoteboard humorous quotes are:</span><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">‘Whom are you?’ said he, for he had been to night school.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You should never touch your eye but with your elbow (Proverb)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Never rub bottoms with a porcupine (Ghanaian Proverb)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’ve given up reading books; I find it takes time off myself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I haven’t spoken to my wife in years. I didn’t want to interrupt her.</p> <script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-38376616714678310212008-06-10T20:56:00.002+01:002008-06-10T21:02:59.876+01:00Joyful, joyful<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I have just received news into my inbox of perhaps the most exciting theatre event that in my opinion could ever be devised.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Well, I suppose, that might be overstating it JUST a little… but I do want to you understand just how UTTERLY COMPELLING I find this event. And how utterly coincidental too.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I was only bemoaning to my brother-in-law LAST WEEKEND how devastatingly charmed I was by a certain gentleman and how I held out hope that a party I will be attending should be visited by said gentleman. I was informed that alas, due to the Object Of My Affection’s schedule, it was inconceivable he would be attending the party. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">It has been a hard week. I have had sleepless nights and have eaten little. My pallor is wan, my spirits low and my hair, limp and lifeless as my heart. I have found neither joy in the star-strewn night skies nor delight in the sun-filled days. You could even say -</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><i style=""><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><i style=""><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours</span><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:9;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">If you wanted to. And that would be great, because, well, it’s Mr Hamlet’s wonderfully bleak speech which, on especially Goya-esque days, I resonate in the delicious melodrama of. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">But people… imagine how much greater it would be…. how, <i style="">absurdly splendiferous</i> it would be, if <b style="">the very object of my affection</b>, were to lament the majestical roofs with me???<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Why, it would be a dream come true for you, Natalie, I hear you reply.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And, I say, but it IS a dream come true….for it is happening and will happen this very December! For, oh yes, the <i style="">delightful</i> Mr David Tennant is to appear as the title-role in the <b style="">RSC’s production of Hamlet!!!!<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Could you GET any better than that!!!!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Hamlet is my <i style=""><u>undisputed</u></i> favourite play and Mr Tennant, well, he sits on Johnny Depp’s geeky right hand and would be responsible for me staying in every Saturday night were I not Sky Plus enabled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And all this, hot on the heels of ANOTHER fantasy realised (and I think the writer, Stephen Moffat must have tapped into my brain as I slept for this one) <span style=""> </span>– a Dr Who episode (featuring DT of course) set – <b style="">in a library!</b> And not just any library – but an entire PLANET that is library.... A Victorian libraryI And the fact that the majority of the action was carried out in the circular domed section of the library – well, it’s almost utopian. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I have since researched on the library featured in the two recent episodes and have discovered that the domed section scenes were shot on location on Swansea Central Library. And for an added element of attraction, if sufficient didn’t already exist, I discover that that great liberal heavyweight, Mr William Gladstone, opened it…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><i style="">"O day and night, but this is wondrous!"</i></p> <script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com372tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-61637666682679676622008-05-31T13:00:00.002+01:002008-05-31T13:05:41.201+01:00QuotesSome words for those who might need them...<br /><br /><em>How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.</em><br /><em></em><br />I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.<br /><br /><em>Our ideals resemble the stars, which illuminate the night. No one will ever be able to touch them. But the men who, like the sailors on the ocean, take them for guides, will undoubtedly reach their goal.</em><br /><br />If growing up is the process of creating ideas and dreams about what life should be, then maturity is letting go again.<br /><br /><em>Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.</em>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-2276533486803987172008-05-27T19:26:00.004+01:002008-05-27T20:02:48.466+01:00Night time terror in Darwen: Part 2<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script>And so the story continues....<br /><br />Rattus stared. I stared back. Neither of us moved.<br /><br />A current of understanding passed between us.<br /><br />Slowly, ever so slowly, I pushed myself quietly away from the dusty, in need of a sweep, floor until I stood upright again, Rattus eclipsed once more from my view.<br /><br />I stood silently, some moments passed. Brain slowly clicking through what I had just witnessed.<br /><br />And the then the terror overwhelmed me... finally. I succumbed to its ineluctable power as Rattus to cheese. Shrieking as loudly as my neighbourliness would permit I jeted up and down momentarily before exeunting through the lounge door and trailing a blaze up the stairs, straight into my bedroom and BOLTING the door.<br /><br />Quick as a flash I was under the bed covers.<br /><br />But Mother Fate was on my side! I had carried my phone up to bed with me! Seizing the handset I speed-dialled for assistance. Not the police, no... though this was clearly an emergency call.<br /><br />No. Something better than the police...a man who carried fleas his pocket for fun. (well, there is a longer version of this story and it was not EXACTLY for fun - more to prove a point but hell... he doesn't mind fleas in his pocket for Christs sake!)<br /><br />Flea-man answered and the story was unfolded within seconds.<br /><br />Flea-man was calm, cool and collected. Despite the hour, he delightfully offered to ride post-haste to my assistance and to chase the offending animal from my abode.<br /><br />I was desperate to shout 'Yes! Come and trash the filthy rodent from my lounge'... but empathy overwhelmed terror. We settled instead for an early morning call, safe in the knowledge that Mr Darcy would not sleep while Rattus inhabited his patch. Padme and Puck were clearly of no use in the stand-off. The day I named Mr Darcy was the day I blessed him with all the bravery and dignity of his namesake. I knew he would not fail me.<br /><br />And so, I put down the phone and with a fluttering heart I drifted off to sleep.<br /><br />The morning came too soon. Again I was faced with the prospect of returning downstairs to face Rattus. Stepping lightly down the stairs and inching open the lounge door, I furtively scanned the room.<br /><br />Padme and Puck were nowhere to be seen.<br /><br />Like mother like son.<br /><br />But there, there crouched in the EXACT same spot in which I had left him seven hours earlier was Mr Darcy - the perennial hero.<br /><br />Seven hours on sentry duty had left its toll on him. His whiskers were dropping with fatigue and his eyes were rimmed with the redness of too little sleep. Yet, throughout all his exhaustion, he had stayed awake and his muscles were as primed to pounce as the first moment he had seen Rattus.<br /><br />I darted past the television and into the kitchen slamming the door behind me. Collecting my thoughts and daily belongings, I was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of calm. I had faced mice in my life. Plenty of them. I was raised in the country and was used to a seasonal influx of six mice a night during harvest time. What is a rat but a large mouse? Who did the family turn to in those early days to rid the sitting room of furry little beings? Me, that's who. And here I was, 29 years of age, cowed by its larger cousin. Shame on me!<br /><br />I turned and calmly opened the kitchen door. Rattus would NOT get the better of me this time. This was MY house and he should be the one sloping about in fear, not me.<br /><br />With all the resilience and pride of my noble sex, I held my head up, flicked my hair high into the air and proudly, loudly walked slowly and confidently past the television, into the corridor and out into the freedom and safety of the outerworld.<br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-67218764615256764922008-05-19T18:54:00.001+01:002008-05-19T19:00:44.223+01:00Nighttime Terror in Darkest Darwen: Part 1<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now the topic of this blog is something I did internally debate whether to blog on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p>Part of me said, <i style="">‘No topic should be out of bounds in an honest and open blog’</i>…. The other, Smeagol-like part of me responded <i style="">’This is shameful. You should tell no-one. They will laugh and scorn you. You will be publicly shamed’<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p>Yes. This problem I have is one that we should only talk of in whispers, to our bestest, closet friends and family…if at all.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the end, of course, my renowned inability to keep a secret inevitably led me to the ‘open and honest’ corner of the ring. (Or perhaps, my ‘open and honest’ principle is responsible for my inability to keep a secret … oh chicken and egg!) That, and a comment by an esteemed gentleman colleague that even the most good and respectable of Victorian ladies will have suffered great difficulties with this matter at one time or another, and so I should embrace the problem as yet another example of my 19<sup>th</sup> century lifestyle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I found his argument both succinct and persuasive. So here goes:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Last night, I did repose at an early hour due to my decision to cease inhaling foul pestilences of noxious fumes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At around eleven and thirty, my ears were enlivened by an unholy racket which did reluctantly and fearfully raise me from my bed to creep down my creaking, wooden stairs to the lower echelons of the house.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At the bottom of the staircase, I was greeted by Miss Padme, who did by cunning use of her whiskers and tail, convey to me her desire that I should follow her into the cold, stone-floored lounge, in which place I was accustomed to passing my evenings.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With faith in the trustworthiness of my first-adopted, I did devotedly follow her short and gentle path into the lounge. There she did, with a sweep of her black paw, motion my eyes to the far right corner of the room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Quite still and statue-like in that very corner, was the crouched figure of Mr Darcy, my second-adopted and by far the largest and bravest of all my feline-brood.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With frozen feet and bare legs did I hesitantly move towards the concentrated figure of Mr Darcy. No acknowledgement of my presence nor welcome at my approach did he make. His stare was undeviating…and I did follow the path of his stare with own, curious eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Along the stone flooring and up to the grey television stand did they sweep. From there did they observe a two inch gap between the stand and flooring. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was at this gap that our gaze did halt and centre.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For several unending moments not a sound was heard within the walls of the room. Miss Padme, Mr Darcy, a cowardly Puck and I all did stand in breathless silence.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then, seemingly to me, with no rhyme nor reason, did Mr Darcy become most agitated and his breathing did become most heightened. His whole body did crouch more keenly and his paws began to dance up and down as if upon a scorching surface.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was in the moments that ensued that I first began to comprehend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was now that my suspicions became keenly raised, for then…<i style="">a shadow</i> did fall out from the gap whereupon our eyes were fixed. Motion occurring under the stand was without dispute… for the very agent of that motion <i style="">did cast his black silhouette upon my floor</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Ever so slowly I began my descent towards the tomb-like ground. First, my knees did make <span style=""> </span>bare contact with the chill, hard rock… and some moments later, warm palms. Lowering my entire body against the floor, I turned my head to rest upon it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Nought stood between the two-inch opening and my crouched, unprotected figure.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With trepidation I did open the lids of my eyes and peer inside the very bowels of the television stand. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">From there I did suddenly, sickeningly grasp what terrible agent did so hypnotise Mr Darcy’s gaze, did make tremble young Puck and seek comfort besides the warm fur of his adolescent mother.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">From there did the flesh and blood owner of that terrible silhouette reveal himself in all his pestilent horror to me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""> </span>For peering straight at me were the fat, glittering eyes of that most rancid, scuttling being……..</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><span style="font-size:14;">R<span style="">attus Norvegicus.</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-10611035997584220182008-05-06T20:22:00.002+01:002008-05-06T20:29:04.399+01:00Thursday 1 May 2.14 pm<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><span style="font-family:Arial;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">It might of course be possible to be more bored than I am at this precise moment…..but I can’t see under what circumstances this could happen.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I’ve passed the hysterical phase and have now entered zombie territory. My eyes feel glassy, I can manage a grunt or two, I have vacant staring down to a fine art.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">One of my colleagues suggested that we should all stay at home and just get called in if and when any work appears............</span></p></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Ancillary to boredom actually is frustration. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I FINALLY started the "His Dark Materials" trilogy which has featured on my "To Read" list for the past five or six years. I spent a <span style="font-style: italic;">lovely</span> six hours reading Northern Lights last night and went straight to Waterstones this afternoon to get books II and III. I would love NOTHING more than to spend this evening eating my way through The Subtle Knife… but alas, no. Instead, I have to pursue that other activity which lies so close to my heart and in which I do so notably excel …oh yes, networking.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I wonder what shame I shall bring upon myself tonight.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">My left heel is pretty loose.<span> </span>Perhaps there may be a large staircase I have to walk down that I shall catch my heel on and fall loudly all the way down whilst being watched by all other four hundred and ninety-nine guests. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Or perhaps I shall embark upon my ‘I hate the cult of celebrity’ soapbox only to discover I am talking to the Editor of Heat magazine.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I once asked a Bishop what his star sign was. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Three hours and forty two minutes to go.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Oh kill me now.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I’m so bored I can’t actually be bothered putting meaningful, connected sentences together. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">This is all I can manage:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></p> <ol style="margin-top: 0cm;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I am delighted to see straw picnic-hamper weather is returning</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I ate a Krispy Crème donut today thinking it would be something special. It wasn’t. I still hate donuts</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">If I were ever in a position to name a female cat again, I would name it ‘Lyra’</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I’m attending a Heroes and Heroines Charity Fancy Dress ball that I am arranging dressed as Scarlett O’Hara and am bored by my predictability but am struggling with a viable alternative</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I am undecided over whether it should be ‘zeros’ or ‘zeroes’</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I am living with a man I don’t know </span></li></ol><script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-77232968790273457482008-05-01T19:52:00.006+01:002008-05-01T22:06:57.057+01:00Climate Change Summit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSqp-2vENb6Cvhgw4ALIaYnyZRoVzHtfTdquR_K0Z5knmYS7b74632JJ1_acj0_vaZ4LUwI9x8s_tGJpBkfBzbcLs_kRwyMD-uPWsb3wtgaKEeuQm39NzU-E49K-25noLNoGQZfP74Zc/s1600-h/polar+bears.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195490598171807170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSqp-2vENb6Cvhgw4ALIaYnyZRoVzHtfTdquR_K0Z5knmYS7b74632JJ1_acj0_vaZ4LUwI9x8s_tGJpBkfBzbcLs_kRwyMD-uPWsb3wtgaKEeuQm39NzU-E49K-25noLNoGQZfP74Zc/s200/polar+bears.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"></div><div></div><div>In my first step to becoming an environmental lawyer :) , I attended the Prince of Wales May Day Summit on Climate Change today; representing one of <em>only</em> one thousand business in the UK who have pledged their support to this organisation to reduce their carbon footprint this year and every subsequent year in line with the 2050 target of 60-85% carbon emission reduction.<br /><br />I came out of the event more depressed than uplifted.<br /><br />Firstly, it was a shock at how poor the support of UK businesses is to stopping climate change. One would have hoped that at least every single FTSE 500 company would be in attendance, I doubt there was even one hundred. Secondly, it was shocking to hear Pen Hadlow, the Polar Explorer, resigned to the extinction of the polar bears and the melting of the ice-caps - his work now is not on their preservation - as he sees this as futile and past all realism - so instead he is concentrating on gathering information to help learn how soon we can expect the ice caps disappearance (the US Oceanographic Centre says FIVE years - and this isn't an institution know for radical ideas.) and how best to combat the effects on then 'remaining' species and peoples of the world.<br /><br />One positive aspect to come from the Summit was Unilever's announcement that it is pledging to source its palm oil from non-rainforest sites and its establishment of an international business group committed to development of sustainable palm oil production. Starting today.<br /><br />Let's hope this action brings a brighter future for orangutans than Pen's future vision for polar bears.</div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-80022765479588131302008-04-13T15:11:00.003+01:002008-04-13T16:43:01.712+01:00Slavishly outraged<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script> <p class="MsoNormal">I have been wondering upon my facility for outrage recently as I appear to have passed through several months without anything really incensing me. In fact, in terms of these blog posts, the last post detailing an occasion that measured as highly as this on my Outrage Richter Scale (ORS) was the Madonna adoption blog I suspect.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But it seems this week is the week for outrage blogs, so I will add to frenzy too!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So what is this occasion that registers a clear 6 on the ORS, Natalie? You say.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Free will. Or the [mis]conception of. I reply.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And to elaborate, the difference of opinion on the issue of: <b style="">can we control our emotional responses to circumstance?<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was posed to me that we CHOOSE our emotional responses. <span style=""> </span>We can CHOOSE to be happy, sad, angry etc. when an emotive circumstance presents itself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If my mother dies, I CHOOSE to be grief-stricken...apparently.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(that was the crunch moment when my gauge started its incline)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>And not just grief. Any emotion in fact. WE CHOOSE to respond to Incident/Cause A with Emotion A or Emotion B or Emotion C.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I of course have to dwell on what this would say about love. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And I have have never yet met anyone who able to MAKE themselves fall in love. Indeed the mere expression itself connotes the fact that it is an unintentional, uncontrolled occurrence. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or rage. In what circumstance could someone sit and say ‘And now, I choose to be enraged’ You simply can’t FORCE an emotion. You feel it/ it is there – or it isn’t. You can’t force a feeling that isn’t there.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Philosophers have spoken about free will for generations; most of us have a deep conviction that we live our lives with “free will”. Free will, hard to define, but loosely in the sense of a human beings’ faculty for making and acting on reasoned choices.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ignoring for the moment issues action choices (i.e. when a cause C event happens – can we REALLY ever be said to have CHOSEN action A or action B – and whether is it not instead the case that whether A or B ensues, it was NECESSITATED by who you are and the forces acting upon you at the time of your ‘choice’. No free will at work – only an <i style="">inevitable outcome caused by who we are</i>. You can’t avoid doing other than what you end up doing. You are the person you currently are and cannot respond in any other way unless you were to be someone <i style="">other </i>than you.) for now let us just deal with emotions. Because to me self-determinism in respect of emotions is even more self-evident a truth self-determinism in respect of actions. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Emotional responses are utterly beyond our control. Emotions present themselves to us as<i style=""> ‘knee-jerk’ reactions</i>. When Cause A occurs – emotions do not sit on a waiting bench within us to be called up when the being owning them decides which emotional response he would like to carry out. Emotional responses are immediate – they AUTOMATICALLY ensue from A. The response occurs spontaenously –the emotion is nothing more than a mechanical reaction.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To say that you could have felt, or acted otherwise, is a fallacy. We can’t do anything other than what we end up doing, our behaviour and emotion is utterly determined by circumstances and biology i.e <u>who we are</u>. <span style=""> </span>In a same molecule-for-molecule situation, we would always respond in the same way – why would or could anything else change it?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If this were not the case – where does the ‘part’ that makes a different choice or response come from – where does it sit? If not in the mind – the genes the molecules, then where? A supernatural element, a ghost in the machine? </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And if this supernatural or ‘other non-biological, circumstances’ based element exist – how does <span style="font-style: italic;">it</span> make its choices? Utter chance? Random chaos. How is that then a free choice?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Some quotes from guys thinking about lack of freedom in respect of emotion:</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">“You are free to do what you want, but you are not free to want what you want”</i> Arthur Schopenhauer</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">“I suppose it’s possible that you might have acquired this want because you wanted to. It’s theoretically possible that you had a want to want to have a want. But this is very hard to imagine, and the question just rearises: where did THAT want come from? You certainly can’t go on like this forever. At some point your wants must be given. They will be products of your genetic inheritance and upbringing that you had no say in. In other words, there’s a fundamental sense in which you did<span style=""> </span>not and cannot make yourself the way you are”</i> Galen Strawson</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For more discussion on Self-determinism – check out Steven L Converse: ‘Free Enough: Doing what come naturally’... who I plagiarised pretty much everything from...</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Except for my outrage. That was determined ;)</p> <script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-47218889675278933702008-04-09T21:18:00.003+01:002008-04-09T21:34:47.152+01:00Mr Camus' pearls of wisdomAm very much enjoying my current read at moment and thought I'd share part of a particular passage that amused and resounded with me. I do try to remind myself of my existence and by doing so, appreciate it, though believe it's not perhaps necessary to do it by such afflictive means!<br /><br /><em>Query:</em> How to contrive not to waste one's time? <em>Answer:</em> By being fully aware of it all the while. <em>Ways in which this can be done:</em> By spending one's days on an uneasy chair in a dentist's waiting room; by remaining on one's balcony all a Sunday afternoon; by listening to lectures in a language one doesn't know; by travelling by the longest and least-convenient train routes, and of course standing all the way; by queueing at the box-office of theatres and then not booking a seat. And so forth.<br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4084935-1");<br />pageTracker._initData();<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br /></script>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-21681566095485048862008-04-08T19:00:00.002+01:002008-04-08T19:10:13.685+01:00Note to the pusillanimous: a lexiphanic blog<span style="font-family:Arial;">I am yet again at a loose end at work so thought I would engage in a little bafflegab as a mithridate to my boredom until the hour to absquatulate arrives.</span> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"> </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I have nothing that is not picayune to discuss but am hoping to fistigate my personal challenge to use fifteen words from </span><a rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.worldwidewords.com/"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#0000ff;">www.worldwidewords.org/weirdwords</span></a><span style="font-family:Arial;"> in one small post. This is not so mattoid as it may on first sight appear, I've been lollygagging for almost three long hours on various retro clothing website but, have found myself full of floccinaucinihilipilification in respect of most items I came across.<br /><br /></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">As may be obvious, I am a <span style="">hyperpolysyllabicsesquipedalianist</span> and admit to being twitterpated with using <span style="">sesquipedality</span> to squabash people in debates.<br /><br /></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">It is a pinchbeck trick which smacks of the sciolist but, neverthless, I admit freely to it.<br /><br /></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Given this fact, I thought application of wordlwidewords to this pages as an oyez so that I may use them to vellicate my sister when next I meet her so that she may accuse me of fanfaronade more so than she usually does. I do not mind. She is nought but a jobbernowl and should know to be more fidimplicitary when I am around.</span></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6812582676766284963.post-27426295898201474432008-04-02T21:20:00.003+01:002008-04-02T21:34:57.758+01:00On the Superiority of the Structured Hat<p>OK, clearly we need head and hair protection given that we live in Grey, Pissy-Little Britain. True, true. Thus, our protection-mechanism is of some import to us.</p><p>I'd like to point out therefore something that may have eluded your attention in this respect. The Structured Hat.</p><p>And I'd like to suggest you give it a try (on).</p><p>The advantages of a Structured Hat over an Umbrella:</p><p>1. It doesn't break in the wind.</p><p>2. You are less likely to forget it.</p><p>3. It looks 'fetching'.</p><p>4. It doesn't imperil the eyes of your fellow pedestrians.</p><p>5. It doesn't require constant opening and closing.</p><p>5. It doesn't impinge on your bodily-freedom </p><p>6. It's longer-lasting.</p><p>7. It acts as an eye-mask to aid sleeping on the morning train journey.</p><p>8. It retains warmth.</p><p>Thus: quite clearly superior to the Umbrella.</p>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02088224374384172119noreply@blogger.com0