Category Archives: Blogging

The English Riviera

Well, amazing though it may sound, I’ve actually found somewhere to hang my hat. The only drawback is that it’s miles from family, way down in Torquay. Plus side is that it has a garden so I can do what I do best – grow your own, cook your own, eat your own and play Wagner very loudly. All being well it will be a Summer move, once I’ve finished with the doc up here. Never make plans, my mother advised me, because you’re bound to be disappointed when they don’t work out. Speaking as one who’s spent a life living impulsively, I think she might have been wrong; it’s time to make plans.

I’ll be back.

Finished

I’ve been going downhill faster than my opinions on the blog so I suppose it was only to be expected that there’d come a day when everything shut down. I’ll try and stick with PMQs and the Sundays but, beyond that, I can’t say.

My life used to be measured, not by coffee spoons or politics but by music and poetry. I’ve spent three years chronicling our venal Parliament and the EU, trying to warn about what was to come. It’s  apparent for all to see now but I still need to find a home, somewhere with a big garden and a big kitchen so I can grow and cook to my heart’s content, with people to love and people who love me.

I think it was Twitter & The GV News that finally did it with an overload of economic and political info – that and still living out of two suitcases and sleeping on a sofabed with no access to a garden almost a year after coming home to England.

On the bright side, here’s the RPA, conducted by Andrew Lytton playing Bach’s “Sleepers Awake!”  I hope we do.

Finished

I’ve been going downhill faster than my opinions on the blog so I suppose it was only to be expected that there’d come a day when everything shut down. I’ll try and stick with PMQs and the Sundays but, beyond that, I can’t say.

My life used to be measured, not by coffee spoons or politics but by music and poetry. I’ve spent three years chronicling our venal Parliament and the EU, trying to warn about what was to come. It’s  apparent for all to see now but I still need to find a home, somewhere with a big garden and a big kitchen so I can grow and cook to my heart’s content, with people to love and people who love me.

I think it was Twitter & The GV News that finally did it with an overload of economic and political info – that and still living out of two suitcases and sleeping on a sofabed with no access to a garden almost a year after coming home to England.

On the bright side, here’s the RPA, conducted by Andrew Lytton playing Bach’s “Sleepers Awake!”  I hope we do.

PS – Still calling Harbinger!

Remembrance Of Things Past

What a rush of memories came back to me when I ventured over to Old Rightie’s place today.

“Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
“Where is it now, the glory and the dream?”

It seems it’s still alive and kicking, so there’s hope for us all yet.

“Ever since that pant pissing, pill popping, global gonad gobbling, snot munching, mono eyed, unelected prime mentalist of a twat, signed that Lisbon Treaty, the knob rotting bellends of the European Union have continued to piss vast amounts of our cash up the fucking wall and into the wind.”

Grumpy Old Twat

Two for the road

In between flooding toilets (I’m in a flat) and a laptop that insists on telling me it can’t start so has to do automatic repairs, I haven’t got much done today, at all. In hindsight, it would have been better if I’d stopped fretting about it and just painted my toenails instead.

It’s probably for the best that I haven’t posted, given the mood I’m in and that nothing seems to have moved on from yesterday or last week/year. Essentially, the loonies are still in charge of the world’s governments and we’re f/cked (*pemf). We don’t really need to know more, except, perhaps, how to hoard canned food without looking like an escapee from Bedlam, or how to light a fire with a few twigs and fashion a dagger from flint without looking like an escapee from the SAS with ptsd.

While I look up the address of the landlord (“Oh, how quaint, it has an original Victorian bathroom” – yes, and the flipping Victorian plumbing too you money-grabbing numbnut, you everything-is-tax-deductible-including-my-wife cheapskate), and a proper pc with a bit of bite, here are two from my blogroll:

A barrel of fish for Pingu
2ozs of Pear Drops for Max

* pemf = please excuse my French.

Two For The Road

In between flooding toilets (I’m in a flat) and a laptop that insists on telling me it can’t start so has to do automatic repairs, I haven’t got much done today, at all. In hindsight, it would have been better if I’d stopped fretting about it and just painted my toenails instead.

It’s probably for the best that I haven’t posted, given the mood I’m in and that nothing seems to have moved on from yesterday or last week/year. Essentially, the loonies are still in charge of the world’s governments and we’re f/cked (*pemf). We don’t really need to know more, except, perhaps, how to hoard canned food without looking like an escapee from Bedlam, or how to light a fire with a few twigs and fashion a dagger from flint without looking like an escapee from the SAS with ptsd.

While I look up the address of the landlord (“Oh, how quaint, it has an original Victorian bathroom” – yes, and the flipping Victorian plumbing too you money-grabbing numbnut, you everything-is-tax-deductible-including-my-wife cheapskate) and a proper pc with a bit of bite, here are two from my blogroll:

A barrel of fish for Pingu
2ozs of Pear Drops for Max

* pemf = please excuse my French.

Over and out

For today at least. I just can’t stand even five minutes of the lies they tell and the contempt in which they hold us any more. I might not be back tomorrow but will do PMQs as usual on Wednesday.