Sumer is Icumen In

It's May Day, and for those of you who are observing the customs of the season, dancing the May Pole and consumating the joys of the season with your Queen of the May, I commend to you the words of Kipling:

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!

The celebration began at sunset yesterday, because our forefathers always reckoned their days from sunset to sunset. This is true of the both Celts and the Germanic tribes who celebrate Walpurgisnacht.
However for the misguided New Agers, I should like to point out that it is not Beltane until the sun is 15% of Taurus which is Monday 5th May 2008.

Which, as it happens, is a Bank Holiday in Britain this year. And a new moon. Very auspicious! Nudge, nudge...

Plenty of time to buff up my May Pole....

Rugby World Cup

Well I dunno about you, but I don't think that it's too much to expect the Sunday Times journos writing up the multi-page Rugby World Cup special, on page four (of the news section, mark you, not Sport), to notice that the All Blacks play for New Zealand not Australia. Well really! Is it too much to ask?

A close shave?

Listening to the radio about the criminal conviction of a chap's 'moustache related violence', I was pretty much gob (upper lip) smacked. MOUSTACHE RELATED VIOLENCE?!!

But apparently, this chap, Charles Law, keeps getting into fights over his handle-bars, and has now had his come-uppance.

He's got to lose the 'tache and pay the little toerags 75 quid each for their trouble.

Well flip me round the chops with a wet lettuce, obviously this chap is barking... Yerrr Obviously. But that's not the point.

If he wishes to bristle with the best then he can. This is a free country.

And this comes in a week which saw the publication of a very erudite book which reminds us that it was not the 'hand that rocked the cradle', that ruled the Empire; it was the handlebar that terrified the natives!



So the little scrotes really should have known better and our beloved judiciary should have advised that ignorance of the effect is no defense.

It's only common sense Health and Safety advice, after all, DON'T pick on the unhinged gentleman with the bristling 'tache! Judge should have given them a clip round the ears (back and sides)!

Nutter on the bus

Remember the Jasper Carrott sketch from the 70s, "The Nutter on the Bus"? Well you might if you are a certain age, but if not you can listen to the sketch here, but if you can't wait for it to load, it goes something like this:

When the nutter gets on the bus, why does the nutter always sit next to me?

I was on the bus the other day and I could hear this nutter getting on behind me. I can tell he's a nutter because he's calling out...

'Eeek! Has anyone seen my camel!!?'

And everyone on the bus is praying quietly ‘Please God don’t let the nutter sit next to me. I’ll do anything you want but please don’t let the nutter sit next to me’

Nutters love showing you things, "I've got an atom bomb in here!"

And he shows me a corned beef tin ...

Well once you've got the nutter everyone else can enjoy it...

Anyway this sketch came to mind this week when Radio 5 Live had on a very strange man indeed. Some bloke called Theodore Zeldin (which is a name for a mad professor, if ever I heard one), who claims that a new pressing issue for humanity is the need for real conversation. I could name a few more pressing ones, but I listened on.

Work, the decline of the family, cars and technology have, he says, all helped to isolate us and he feels it's his duty to try to make us all sit down and talk face to face about things that really matter. OK I think to myself, fair enough.

But what does he do to facilitate this? He holds a birthday party at his house which is only for strangers, who are prepared to hold conversations off a menu of his devising!

Quite apart from the fact that going on the radio and inviting everyone over to your address (with postcode) is plainly batty behaviour, he was very strange with the callers. He was quite agressive actually. He berated, one woman for engaging in "talk" rather than "conversation" and when she said she wasn't responsible for all the pain and suffering in the world so wasn't going to let it get her down, boy did he give her jip!

Lots of (predominently northern) people rang in to say they talked to everyone, on the bus, in the street, on planes; and others (mainly southern) texted in saying they died a thousand deaths when such ghastly people attempted to talk at them on journeys. Naturally Jasper Carrott's sketch sprang to mind.

Then I got an email with the solution.

The next time you find yourself on a plane, train or a bus sitting next to someone who cannot resist chattering to you endlessly, I urge you to quietly pull your laptop out of your bag, carefully open the screen (ensuring the irritating person next to you can see it), and hit this link

Be part of the problem!

Rum, sodomy and the lash....

How would Nelson have fared if he had been subject to modern health and safety regulations?

"Order the signal to be sent, Hardy."

"Aye, aye sir."

"Hold on, that's not what I dictated to the signal officer. What's the meaning of this?"

"Sorry sir?"


"England expects every person to do his duty, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religious persuasion or disability. What gobbledegook is this?"

"Admiralty policy, I'm afraid, sir. We're an equal opportunities employer now. We had the devil's own job getting 'England' past the censors, lest it be considered racist."

"Gadzooks, Hardy. Hand me my pipe and tobacco."

"Sorry sir. All naval vessels have been designated smoke-free working environments."

"In that case, break open the rum ration. Let us splice the main brace to steel the men before battle."

"The rum ration has been abolished, Admiral. It's part of the Government's policy on binge drinking."

"Good heavens, Hardy. I suppose we'd better get on with it. Full speed ahead."

"I think you'll find that there's a 4 knot speed limit in this stretch of water."

"Damn it man! We are on the eve of the greatest sea battle in history. We must advance with all dispatch. Report from the crow's nest, please."

"That won't be possible, sir."

"What?"

"Health and Safety have closed the crow's nest, sir. No harness. And they said that rope ladder doesn't meet regulations. They won't let anyone up there until a proper scaffolding can be erected."

"Then get me the ship's carpenter without delay, Hardy."

"He's busy knocking up a wheelchair access to the fo'c'sle Admiral."

"Wheelchair access? I've never heard anything so absurd."

"Health and Safety again, sir. We have to provide a barrier-free environment for the differently abled."

"Differently abled? I've only one arm and one eye and I refuse even to hear mention of the word. I didn't rise to the rank of admiral by playing the disability card."

"Actually, sir, you did. The Royal Navy is under-represented in the areas of visual impairment and limb deficiency."

"Whatever next? Give me full sail. The salt spray beckons."

"A couple of problems there too, sir. Health and Safety won't let the crew up the rigging without crash helmets. And they don't want anyone breathing in too much salt - haven't you seen the adverts?"

"I've never heard such infamy. Break out the cannon and tell the men to stand by to engage the enemy."

"The men are a bit worried about shooting at anyone, Admiral."

"What? This is mutiny."

"It's not that, sir. It's just that they're afraid of being charged with murder if they actually kill anyone. There's a couple of legal aid lawyers on board, watching everyone like hawks."

"Then how are we to sink the Frenchies and the Spanish?"

"Actually, sir, we're not."

"We're not?"

"No, sir. The Frenchies and the Spanish are our European partners now. According to the Common Fisheries Policy, we shouldn't even be in this stretch of water. We could get hit with a claim for compensation."

"But you must hate a Frenchman as you hate the devil."

"I wouldn't let the ship's diversity co-ordinator hear you saying that sir. You'll be up on a disciplinary charge."

"You must consider every man an enemy who speaks ill of your King."

"Not any more, sir. We must be inclusive in this multicultural age. Now put on your Kevlar vest; it's the rules."

"Don't tell me - Health and Safety. Whatever happened to rum, sodomy and the lash?"

"As I explained, sir, rum is off the menu. And now there's a ban on corporal punishment."

"What about sodomy?"

"I believe it's to be encouraged, sir."

"In that case... kiss me, Hardy."

Summer's over

What, you blinked and missed it? Word has it that Father Christmas has already shown up at Harrods.

Well you can't buy a pair of sandals or a swimming cozzie to save your life. What is it with 'getting ready for the next season'? Does no-one actually purchase things when they need them, rather than five months in advance? Is it only me who is either disorganised or impulsive (dependent on your outlook)?

Anyway I spotted this Back to School sale sign, and had to share the lurve...



On a bit of a tangent but not dissimilar tack, my local rag is bleating about the apparent crime wave (that is their take on the fact that this information has been made available under the Freedom of Information Act).

They have this very useful information:

Age of youngest person arrested for gun /firearm possession: 12

What a load of inflammatory alarmist clap trap! The kid in question (not one of mine) had a toy gun that shoots yellow plastic beads!

We do NOT have marauding gangs of gun toting feral children in this sleepy Berkshire backwater. It is frankly pathetic, to log a child with a toy gun as a firearms offense.

What is it with everyone in this country? One minute parents are criticised for wrapping their obese kids in cotton wool and force feeding them a virtual video world. The next a kid out playing with a toy gun is nicked on a firearms charge!

I had some splendid weaponry as a child. (My older relatives had the real deal as they were brought up playing on bomb sites in London, and handguns with live ammunition were widely available). But I was given a tremendous long arm spud gun from the 50s (by an older relative, who had grown out of it) which didn't half make the back of your legs sting when you took a plug. Then I had a proper air rifle. Now I rejoice in a longbow, with which I or my sons, were we so inclined, could do a dammed sight more harm than with an air gun that pings plastic balls.

Surely childhood is the time to work out your cowboys from your indians, to learn your cops from your robbers, by crawling about in the long grass, camouflaged up, armed to the teeth, pouncing on pirates?

Does no-one today remember Peter Pan? The epitome of childhood is the waging of bloodthirsty wars and doing noble and heroic deeds at great personal danger. If we don't expose our children to this traditional role play and physical activity, we are doomed to a nation of children who are either too timid to cross a road alone by the time they go to university, or so insular and anally retentive that they believe on-line gaming to be reality and with no empathy or proper role models, just go and blow people away. For real.

Yes it's obscene that young lads are gunning each other down in their beds and on the streets. But those children have not been allowed to be children. They are old before their time. And some of them are in their graves. Well before their time. Many of these children are bullied into crime by their older 'friends' who hide behind the children's relative immunity under the laws of criminal responsibility. This is different issue. And the mingling is silly tabloid journalism at best, at worst it will lead to a generation of desperately dysfunctional people.

The fear of litigation and the conflation of play with actual crime has led to a dichotomy in society whereby we have the pussycats on the one hand and the thugs on the other.

The Scandinavians are deliberately building risk back into children's playgrounds, the contention being that without risk-taking in play, children do not learn risk assessment and as a consequence are unable to see how to master risk situations when they do arise. Bless 'em, they can actually see that a bit of rope burn and scraped knees make our children safer, not the reverse.

I contend that unless children work out their fantasies with imaginative play in the physical world, they are in grave danger of being unable to cope with the reality that those of my generation know.

There is a bit of a backlash and Conn Iggulden's Dangerous Book for Boys is a joy and a delight to any parent of sons. But even that is tamer than it sounds. To my younger son's great chagrin, there was nothing in it at all about explosions...

Wherever did English childhood go? Where are the endless summers of youth? And what have we in store from a generation of children who never played? Let's build the risk back in and have society grow up a bit by remembering what childhood really is.

Better than the wolf?

What do you say then folks?

"Goodbye. I don't think we'll miss you."

Mrs Blair, never noted for being the shy retiring type, has today been pilloried for being a Silly Gobby Mare again on the steps of Number 10. Well, bless her it was her last chance!And a thread to that effect appeared on the 5Live Message Board which for reasons unknown dissolved into verse.

While I am unversed (ho ho ho!)in the subtleties of Haiku (I don't think we had those when I were a lad) I was delighted to be invested as Poet Lorry commuted to Poet Lolly (for my native tongue).

Thus:

Farewell to Mrs C Blair
(She, of the flyaway hair
And a mouth like a slot
Which says such a lot
Unwisely, some say, to be fair).

With a mouth that begs for a letter,
Mrs Blair should really know better,
Than to open her gob
In front of a mob,
All of whom are just out to get her.

Poet Lolly is speaking in tongues
So draw a deep breath in your lungs
And shout from the rooves
The disturbing truths
Of peerages dished out for bungs!

I'm using the lingua franca
To find a word after which we all hanker.
Poet Lolly can't be licked
With rhymes that are nicked
From the dark side of the mind of a banker.

Now that Number Ten has a new occupant,
I think it's about time that we learnt
How the English feel really
About taxes costing us dearly
(And pulling this post took some front!)

(Cheeky moderators thought that jock, unelected and runt should not be coupled! Obviously a better rhyme springs to mind, but I refrained from that one as in banker above...)

For a mandate Brown just hasn't got
(Reserved matters come to not a lot)
For if the whole of Kirkcaldy
Were to vote as a body,
They could influence Brown not a jot.

He can't talk on health, education or training
Nor farming or fishing (even when it is raining )
Not housing or planning, the police or the law
Nor aspects of transport, the buses, or sport.
It's because they're devolved
That Brown can't be involved
He must interfere in our affairs never more!

I've done another verse I'm afraid I can't help myself, sorry...

"Goodbye. I don't think we'll miss you."
Forgive me while I weep in a tissue.
For she is a Blair
Who has never had a care
'Cos democracy's not been a real issue.

Stalinist Brown

Well the permanent secretary to the Treasury for four years under Brown should know what he's talking about...

Image stolen shamelessly from Alfie at Waking Hereward

The Evil One is 18 today!

Those of you who have been following this blog, will know, that if I had actually got any grey hairs (which I haven't obviously), of my four children, The Evil One, would have been the cause.

She has been challenging, assertive, abrasive, even aggressive. I have worried about her, defended her and been close to murdering her on occasion. She's been a rude, clever, witty, and argumentative child.

But by god, I never wanted a doormat for a daughter, and I love her very, very much.

And tonight she said, "I've had the best childhood of anyone I know."

Which is kind of sweet really. After everything.

And this morning she is an adult.

The White House

You know how it is. Sometimes, you think to yourself, I don't really want to be challenged with my reading material. A rip roaring good historical yarn would just about do me right now. So long as it's well researched.

So it was this morning. I had a slow morning so I ran myself a nice hot bath, stepped in, and settled myself with a Bernard Cornwell that I hadn't read. Much as the TV series with Sean Bean is absolute crap, (largely because Sean Bean can't act), the stories aren't bad (even though they have nothing in the way of characterisation, sub plot and offer nothing to a discussion of the human condition).

However I digress.

So in I get. I ALWAYS read the foreword, preface, introduction or whatever. (Actually I have an Honours degree in English from a damn good university on the strength of reading the foreword, preface, introduction or whatever. But that's another story).

In this case it was a foreword not a whatever.

And I quote:

Later that year [1814] in the same kind of operation, though on a much larger scale, [the British were] responsible for the capture and destruction of Washington itself. Among the many buildings that were burned was the president's mansion. The lower walls were of stone, so they survived, but when the mansion was rebuilt those walls were painted white to hide the scorch marks and it has been known as the White House ever since.

"Oh that's interesting", I thought. However in an idle moment at lunchtime, (told you it was a slack day), I thought further on it. "I know", I thought, "I'll read up a bit on that British assault", only to learn that Cornwell has perpetuated a myth, of which it seems, every American school child is aware.

The house acquired its nickname early on. Congressman Abijah Bigelow wrote to a colleague on March 18, 1812 (three months before the United States entered war with England): "There is much trouble at the White House, as we call it, I mean the President's" (quoted in W. B. Bryan, "The Name White House," Records of the Columbia Historical Society 34-35 [1932]: 308). The name, though in common use, remained a nickname until September 1901, when Theodore Roosevelt made it official.

Hmmm. A tiny spot of research tells us 'it aint so Joe'.

Look, I know historical novels are ultimately fiction and so about storytelling not academic rigour. And hey, we all make mistakes while attempting to be thorough in research.

But surely something so fundamentally flawed in the foreword (not in the narrative) of a book first published 20 years ago should have been corrected by now?

Apologies for absence

To anyone who is actually still looking, thankyou.

I'll try and post something real after a bit of sleep.

Les Paul Junior

One of my blog buddies has uploaded one of his own compositions, given that his screen identity is Les Paul Junior (pictured above), I should have guessed he could play a bit!

Have a listen.

Mind you I wasn't expecting it to be quite so mellow, given his favourite video is this one. Talk about shit faced!

The Bogey Man

This is one more reason why this man MUST not be our Prime Minister! Please God Labour party members come to their senses...

Cameron snubs young fan.

This is brilliant - hats off to creator bert grr.

Tough on Crime...

Credit to Stewpot.

Hoodie 'shoots' Cameron...

...and causes uproar. Under the headline: Teenage 'pistol' hoodie gloats, the Sun predictably wallows in disgust.

"A TEENAGE hoodie told last night how he ran up behind Tory leader David Cameron and pretended to shoot him.

Tagged thug Ryan Florence, 17, said he made the sick gun gesture to impress gang pals who were watching."

And the Great British public is whipped into a frenzy of comment, like this, typical of the Daily Mail.

"This young thug is a good reason why we all should be armed with guns.

- John Smith, Ulverston UK"

Oh Purleeease!

Wikipedia is quite ambivalent about the 'bang bang' hand gesture.

"This imitation of the action of a revolver pistol is often meant to represent a handgun in children's games. It may also be used menacingly to mean "I'm gonna kill you", or simply as a playful greeting."

The gesture is represented in stock photo libraries under the Business section. The gesture here surely implies, "Spot on!" or "Right on the money!", "Yes! We're going places!" or some such.


And for fans of wrestling's "Cactus Jack" the double handed gesture is a signature.


Apparently "Cactus Jack" Mick Foley took his trademark catchphrase "Bang, Bang!" from the B-52's song "Love Shack." The song was running through his head at the end of a match, and he held his fingers up like pistols while reciting the "bang bang bang on the door..." verse.

But what, (honestly), is the difference between the top image and this one?


I put it to you that a little boy in Manchester was hamming it up for the camera. No more. No less.

Feel free to comment here and there is further discussion on the message board.

English Holiday

Prime Minister Blair, not feeling well and concerned about his mortality goes to consult a psychic about the date of his death.

Closing her eyes and silently reaching into the realm of the future she finds the answer: "You will die on an English holiday."

"Which one?" Blair asks nervously.

"It doesn't matter," replied the psychic. "Whenever you die, it will be an English holiday".

EU laws threaten Earl Grey tea

The producers of the citrus fruit bergamot, which is unique to Earl Grey tea, will not be able to afford to comply with the new EU Reach directive. Under the health and safety regulations the bergamot oil, which is mainly used in the production of perfume, is classified as potentially poisonous and is therefore required to be tested and registered with the European Chemical Agency.

The extra £35,000 cost this would entail is beyond the means of the small Italian farms which grow the commodity and may lead to the farms changing the crops they grow.

They tried to straighten bananas, they're talking of doing away with the pint, but the Brussels bureaucrats have taken a step too far. Sign away our inalienable rights under Magna Carta but dammit, we won't stand for Johnny Foreigner buggering about with our tea! That's really taking the rich tea biscuit!

Today is Imbolc

As the light lengthens, so the cold strengthens
Traditional saying

Imbolc is defined as a cross-quarter day, midway between the winter solstice (Yule) and the spring equinox (Ostara). The precise astrological midpoint in the Northern hemisphere is when the sun reaches fifteen degrees of Aquarius.

The term "Imbolc" translates as either "in milk" or "in the belly," and marked the birth and nursing of the spring lambs as a sign of the first stirrings of spring in the middle of winter.

It may also have been celebrated with the lighting of candles, as slightly longer days begin to be noticeable at this time of year.

Since the Celtic year was based on both lunar and solar cycles, it is most likely that the holiday would be celebrated on the full moon nearest the midpoint between the winter solstice and vernal equinox, or when the primroses, dandelions, or other spring flowers rise up through the snow.

There's a big fuck-off clock up in the sky tonight.

It's called Candlemas in the Christian calendar and is the last feast in the Christian year that is dated by reference to Christmas - forty days after the nativity.

Under Mosaic law, a mother who had given birth to a man-child was considered unclean for seven days; moreover she was to remain for three and thirty days "in the blood of her purification." Candlemas therefore corresponds to the day on which Mary, according to Jewish law should have attended a ceremony of ritual purification.

The ceremony was usual in medieval England, where it was called 'churching'. New mothers who had yet to be churched were regarded as attractive to the fairies, and so in danger of being kidnapped by them.

The term "Candlemas" refers to the practice found in former Roman Missals whereby a priest on February 2 would bless the candles for use during the year (said candles must be of beeswax).

"Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and mistletoe ;
Down with the holly, ivy, all,
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas Hall"

— Robert Herrick (1591–1674), "Ceremony upon Candlemas Eve"

As the poem by Robert Herrick records, the eve of Candlemas was the day on which Christmas decorations of greenery were removed from people's homes; for traces of berries, holly and so forth will bring death among the congregation before another year is out.

Another tradition holds that anyone who hears funeral bells tolling on Candlemas will soon hear of the death of a close friend or relative; each toll of the bell represents a day that will pass before the unfortunate news is learned.

Good weather at Candlemas is taken to indicate severe winter weather later. In America Candlemas evolved into Groundhog Day celebrated on the same date.

In France, Candlemas is celebrated with crêpes, which must be eaten only after eight p.m. If the cook can flip a crêpe while holding a coin in the other hand, the family is assured of prosperity throughout the coming year.

There are those who would argue that that Candlemas is not a Christianisation of the pagan festival of Imbolc.

Yeah, right!

Be aware of this. I had a lucky escape.

I walked into B&Q at lunchtime and some old guy dressed in orange asked me if I wanted decking.

Fortunately, I got the first punch in and that was the end of that.

Those less suspecting might not be so lucky.

Another one gone.

My daughter's fifth friend has died.

He was eighteen a couple of days ago. This one died of cancer. The other 4 in 3 car crashes.

This is not right.

When I was a kid grandparents died - not your school friends. And certainly not at this rate.

This is the shires not a war zone.

Auld Lang Syne

Bit effing late - I know, but I really like this bluegrass banjo bloke, even though he looks like Dave in the Royle Family! Happy New Year!



This is still genius though, innit?



But these three have got to be smart arses!

England and Scotland: a disunited kingdom

Not wishing to say I told you so, but I did actually tell you so.

"A majority of voters in both Scotland and England want the countries to split.

Failing that, both think England should have a Parliament of its own deciding on English affairs without any involvement of Scottish MPs.

The poll findings demonstrate deep and potentially fatal cracks in the 300-year union of the two countries, and threaten to present Gordon Brown with a constitutional crisis if he becomes Prime Minister.

In a further blow to Mr Brown, a majority in both countries want him to call an election within a year of coming to power, to secure his own mandate from the voters. "

Tony Blair is a tit!

From The Mail

Pimp my Ride!

Yeah well I couldn't resist...

There are other ways to be hanged...

One shouldn't laugh...

The real thing isn't so funny.

Please don't hit the play button unless you understand that you will see the actual execution.

I can't believe that it's just the poor quality of the video that makes this so medieval - it's like something from the Inquisition...

Saddam Jokes

Well the first tasteless Saddam texts have just arrived at the Corder Batphone. Bit slow but, it's a start...

Got some Saddam Hussein shirts for Christmas. They're a bit tight around the neck but they hang well.

Went on the piss last nite with Saddam Hussein, you should see the state of him this morning. Talk about a hangover.

They're not very funny so, any offerings folk?

Gav's Station

We may not be Aunty's favourite nephews and neices anymore but frankly Aunty Beeb is a capricious old hag who has a 'tache!

So I made a message board for us.

What do we think peeps? If it has any glitches, shout!

Little Miss Chav

My younger daughter has this on her Bebo - deeply unsuitable I suppose but I can't fault her sense of humour. (Bebo is like My Space, it's a sort of blog system with bells and whistles for easily uploading videos, pictures, music and stuff).

Freedom to say that which does not offend is no freedom at all

Gordon Brown demonstrates the correct method for strangling freedom of speech.

After that charming pair from the British National Party were rightly cleared of inciting racial hatred, our prime-minister-in-waiting's remarks about outlawing words that "offend mainstream opinion" were more worrying than anything uttered by the impotent bigots of the BNP. Freedom to say that which does not offend is no freedom at all. Indeed it is only "extreme" views that need protecting, since the mainstream can look after itself. Free speech means what it says - no bans on right wing demagogues, Islamist firebrands or even sexist football managers.

Worse still was the suggestion that the law should be altered to ensure that, next time the State stages a trial of political dissidents, they will be found guilty. Such cynical manipulation of the justice system for political ends is something we might normally associate with the "public safety" committee of some little police state.

Wonko rightly wonders what race hate laws have got to do with the Treasury, and the Tartan Taxman is runaway winner in his poll yet again.

I believe passionately that Brown should NOT be foist upon us. I do not want a democratically illigitimate Stalinist Prime Minister and if truth be told I can't imagine many of Nu Labour do either. But they seem to think he's some sort of benign comedy jock. (We ALL do love a comedy jock).


If they could see him for what he really is, they'd be suitably scared. Grrr. See.

Why can't we have a general election when Blair stands down? Then we can all vote for Nice Dave and hug a hoodie.

It's the way the eyes follow you...

You know I like a bit of art, well, what makes it special is the way a static image seems to "live". You know, the way the eyes follow you round the room and you sort of imagine the picture is pulling faces behind your back.
But that would be silly, wouldn't it?

The Scorpion

Traditional Scorpio Traits
Determined and forceful
Emotional and intuitive
Powerful and passionate
Exciting and magnetic


On the dark side....
Jealous and resentful
Compulsive and obsessive
Secretive and obstinate

LIKES

* Truth
* Hidden Causes
* Being involved
* Work That is Meaningful
* Being Persuasive

DISLIKES

* Being Given Only Surface data
* Taken Advantage of
* Demeaning Jobs
* Shallow Relationships
* Flattery and Flattering

Astrology...a load of old cobblers? Or is there something there?

Whatever! It's my birthday today! So I am awarding myself the order of the cake!