§ Listen?! Nabokov Will Do The Job! §

I have just found an audiobook of Nabokov's Lolita. Some kind person has uploaded the whole book in snippets of around 15 mins a time on Youtube. I have never actually experienced a piece of literature via this method, so I'm downloading 30 mins worth to my mp3 player each night before bed, starting tonight. Striking thing about it is that Jeremy Irons is the narrator. He also played Humbert in the 1997 Adrian Lyne version of the film. Oooooh! I wonder what images will create in my mind's eye! It's been yonks since I read the novel.

Until then, I'm popping up another new Lolita tribute video that I've just discovered, too!  The accompanying song is by a band called Drop Dead Beautiful. My only complaint on the video is that there are a few stills from Kubrick's 1962 version of the book. But hey - enjoy anyhow!  I just love it when hunting the old helps you snare the new!


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DAILY RECORD article HERE

BeeBawBabbity

As everyone knows, I'm not one for fuss.  Just plain straightforwardness and I'm happy.  I do, however, need to make an announcement.  Today is my identical twin's birthday. Honestly - the way she's rattled on about it for week's, saying how she'd like just the one layer cake, no roses as she hates them and breakfast in bed and all that malarky. It's an utter disgrace. I'm ashamed even to say she's my twin! Brazen with it!  There's huge numbers printed on those balloons for everyone to gasp over. A woman of her age should show some decorum and try lifting a duster as often as she lifts a guitar!  What an attention seeker!

Anyhow - to help you all recognise her so you can avoid her, I've uploaded this subtle picture of me.  Why some people can't just be happy to let the day slip by, I don't know...... (pass me those chocolates and that colouring in book and crayons that I forgot to post down to my other half, then.....!)


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Sotto Voce

Four square sides help cubing her in,
pastel walls peelings their delicate skin
A journey to take her for all that's she's worth -
needle on plastic  - a quickening birth

Nothing to hurt her, to mock or appraise,
lest the red star collides with all that she says
Melancholia outed, a slow steady rate,
left the vinyl and cardboard to delineate 

Enclosed in a side room, no nurses to gape,
where the voice and the vibe have no chance of escape
A soar through the heartstrings, a tour through the veins
as she reaches that faux exaltation again

Just a passion to keep her from harming herself
with her universe stacked on that pitiful shelf
Come hither and cover her, notes to advance
for an hour a day only in sweet severance  

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I Beg Your Bardon...?!

I know I'm cutting it a bit fine but I couldn't let today pass without a mention to our other national poet Robert Burns, born on this day.

The most of Scotland celebrate Burn's Night, and dine on haggis, neeps and tatties, all washed (in my case forced) down with a whiskey or two!   Thankfully, the kids can't play the bagpipes.

Happy Birthday, Rabbie. You certainly deserved my father's adoration. He could recite your poems so fluently. We miss you both...! I've left my favourite piece of Burny below and remember fondly, from my childhood, the inscribed brass plaque that used to hang on our kitchen wall!

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link to DAILY RECORD article RIGHT HERE 

Happy Birthday My Dutch Delight

Happy Birthday to you, Rutger Hauer, 69 today. You've had a firm place in my blonde-haired guys obsession list, and I've loved you since Blade Runner back in 1981.  You were never a bad actor,  just chose to star in some really shit films but you had your glory stories, too.

 Have a nice day and in your honour later, me and the guys will choose a DVD  of yours to watch.  I'll no doubt lose the hand-count vote and I'd be as well getting  Hobo With A Shotgun  looked out now.  Until then, I'll leave everyone this rather fetching picture of you smashing yourself over the head with a glass bottle.  Happy Birthday, man of my once-upon-a-time naughty dreams.....♥......who am I kidding - I'd still give him one!

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link to Hotel India's DAILY RECORD article here
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Ordinary (Kinda) Days (5)

You'd think I'd be able to have just one day go the female's way!  First, my black wool wrap-over gets covered in hair as some zoombo forgot to stuff it back in the ironing basket after fishing out their item, so the cat claimed it as a new mat!  Then I go to make some scrambled eggs, chuck the other ingredients in a jug to mix and the ruddy box is empty! Just toast it is then.

   Next, I went to check my online bank account and find that my wages are not in on time AGAIN, most likely leaving me with a £28 pound bank charge for my measly £6 Netflix direct debit not transacting! I spend almost an hour getting shoved from pillar-to-bloody-pay-roll-pass-the-buck-post on the phone until it's seen to!

To make matters worse, the f******g loud, boring, gossip-bitch-from-hell-2-doors-down, captures me at the bus stop on my way to town, not giving one a chance of getting a word (or a punch) in, while suffering her futile blethering crap, which ended on an update as to how her husband's thrush is doing! I ended up getting off a stop too early just to ditch her!

Hours later, with the kids gone, I go fill the bath right to the top, light a few candles, and sink into water-silk oblivion, until creaking upstairs reminds me that PrettyBoy was on night-shift and that's him thudding down the stairs. While he's shouting back at me through the bog door that he hasn't  'piddled on the gnomes up the garden since he was eight', and can I hurry up, his father decides to help his plight by wafting huge pockets of cold air with the bathroom door, snuffing out my candles, and goosing my whole bodied pimples........!  I'm really gonna love scraping my stubbly legs all over the impatient bastard in bed tonight!  

To round off the evening - my cat returns with a beautiful little robin in it's mighty jaws. Isn't the cooked meats that my hubby 'substitutes' for tinned cat food enough for the little monster!!  If it wasn't for the chocolate bars hidden under my mattress, I'd never make it to midnight!  Ah.....that's better. How was your day....?
  
                       me ? >^,,^<  ow!
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link to Daily Record article here
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Oh, Brother!

 The second I saw the prompt it put me in mind of the old pictures my dad showed me of him and my aunt as kids.  It sort of went from there!

Do I have to go with him
I know my way to there?
No dilly and no dallying,
I promise to take care!

Do I have to take his sweaty hand  
while crossing Baxter Street?
'Cause he pulls me hard and quickly,
nearly swipes me off my feet!

Do I have to sit beside him,
in that squishy-squashy pew?
And give the vicar your regards,
while you fight off the flu!

Do I have to help him afterwards
and traipse around the shops?
Bringing home the Sunday dinner
and your dry cough knockout drops!

Do I have to do my homework
and let him correct the sums?
For he'll just give me a lecture,
as my teacher he becomes!

Do I have to watch intently
as he rages up the fire?
Showing how to safely poke
to make the flames go higher!
  
Do I have to go off to my bed
as early as it is?
While he's allowed an extra hour
till he jumps into his!

Do I have to kiss his cheek goodnight
and hug him hard as well?
While mummy's ill and dad's away
he's my hero - just don't tell!

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Lost In Scots

I am of the technology minority that doesn't own a mobile phone. Children are born these days with the knowledge that at some point in their young lives, such an item will be a requirement deemed necessary. 

 PrettyBoy's phone was upgraded a couple of days ago from a Crapberry to some iPhone 5 thingy.  This mobile has amazing features, functions and applications (far too pernickety for me to fathom out) but I was impressed, for a change, at it's offerings - and then we hit a problem.

This phone has a detector, capable of recognising the human voice and answering most questions you, orally, ask of it.  Sadly, it seems a Scottish accent confuses it, with reports showing the Glaswegian accent bamboozles it the most!  No matter how clean and clear your voice directs it, it don't wanna know. Of course, we make the most out of the flaw by waiting on the dodgy translations.  Needing directions to a plumbing warehouse, PrettyBoy asked it:
  
        "Where is Bog Road, Unit Six, in Falkirk, located?"

The reply: 
                "I don't know where 'weirdo's bog-water, unit sex and folk rock is'.......shall I try a web search?"

I've never been one for gimmicky enticement *ahem* but I sure can't wait to flick through the telephone directory later on today!

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All In A Day's Bollocks!

Just added my first Magpie Tale in yonks, and it felt great.  I've had quite a shitty year so far (but thank you for all the wishes anyhow) and not quite feeling totally back on track.

   My youngest son Adam (GingerJesus  - who already has a new nickname from a particular bunch of friends, he upgrades them every two years apparently!) has been diagnosed with costochondritis, which is inflammation of the chest walls and really painful. During New Years night, I sat up in A&E with him until he saw a doctor, which was fairly quick and the place, fairly quiet. I expected to see a few knives stuck between shoulder blades given the time of year but casualty had but a flashing Christmas tree and me, strategically placed to help lull children to sleep, I imagine! Anyhow the doctor sent him away with medicines that were to help heartburn, not muscle pain and such. It was our GP today that prescribed him the correct medicine. It's a bit scary when casualty doctors get it wrong.  Mind you, he did have that misanthropist aura about him. I'm really feeling it for Adam, as he's had to put a stop on his band practice (drums) for now and just watch at his darts tournaments.

And moi?  I have been referred to hospital for a bowel investigation. Pains that I haven't suffered and moaned about much since my hysterectomy in 1996  (I still went to see Bowie just 2 weeks after!) have come back with a vengeance.  The quack reckons that either little tags and adhesions from previous surgeries ( I had endometriosis) have grown and started to wrap around my bowel, twisting and tugging on it. The plan is an investigation via keyhole surgery sometime soon.  Gee, I dunno - get one worry, treatment and the all clear and something else pops up to replace it!  
 
I did, however, have the best time watching Ross's band, Hotel India, headline the most sought after venue in Scotland.  King Tuts in Glasgow has sticky floors, dodgy toilets, horrendous bar prices (artists get it half price) and is underground. The atmosphere is amazing though and the PA system is cracking! The only thing we missed was mingling with the lads before they went on stage. Being the headlining band, the VIP room was open to them and it was requested they stayed there. It was a proud moment watching their entry from side stage.  They all decided to wear awful Christmas jumpers for the banter, too! Fairy won with his present, Xmas pudding and sleepy Z's number.

     To round things off, a music critic from Scotland's best selling newspaper, The Daily Record, was there to see the guys in action. He wrote the below article but I had to re-write it for clarity as my scanner is broken and the snaps didn't turn out too great either. But it's an even bigger boost when you've made it to the nationals. And if health and this dodgy ruddy computer holds out, I may just leave a slightly bigger dent in that swivel chair and regularly join in with the rest of society/mad people......

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Cast Me Off

 What a delightful picture to return to. During my absence I knit a lot, it's one of my guilty pleasures. I'm not a typical knitter I have to say.  I have, in my time, been known to use my own patterns and slogans in the articles. May blog that one day!  It's nice to be back anyhow!




Click clacking, brain racking,
stitches in a fight
Dropping many, flopping any
 - don't pull that too tight!

Colour dreamer - sheep-like screamer
baaaa....the thing won't twist!
Pattern crazy, mind too hazy
- never get the gist!

Moss decker, little checker,
woven with such care
Triple lattice, made free gratus,
 - one he'll never wear!

Lace ribbing, always fibbing,
how the thing will look
Fat on skinny, stretchy ninny
- never shall she look!

Cable cross, total loss,
demanded by the wool
Should only take a mild mistake to
-  make her look the fool

Babies bonny, old and scrawny,
fire me with requests!
Caused such tention, since I mentioned
 - skills that I posses!

Take out my yarn and future darn
a slug-like suit instead
Continually, in moss stitch three,
 - a hole at feet and head

And then I'll ask, the simple task
to draw the cord each end.
A happy loon, in her purl cocoon,
 - a weird woollen wonderful friend!

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If you're around......

I shall be returning to the Land Of Blog tomorrow. I've missed many of you in my absence but will explain it all. See ya soon!