a glimpse of long ago

Posted on by September 13, 2016

I’m watching the evening settle in around the treehouse I built today. There’s no squirrels this evening, just a few late cicadas and a bird or two. Frogs join the chorus as the shadows lengthen under the trees. I have all the windows open and the breeze snakes in one window and out another, cooling as it goes. I’m having a peaceful moment but I’ll have to start the washing machine here in a minute and it will cover all these natural sounds with its own self-important industry.

Sometimes I think there just might be a writer in here someplace.

quiet coach

Posted on by November 7, 2015

I’m sitting here on the morning train and it is surprisingly quiet. So much so that other than the hum of the train on the rails there’s not much background noise to block out conversation. So when someone picks up their mobile and has a quick chat it’s audible from several seats away. Especially people like me with loud speaking voices to start with.
Yet for all the money and RD spent on new phones designs the basic problem of being overheard hasn’t been addressed.
Sure you can wear headphones, even those inner ear things like the ones that come with your iPhone but you still have to speak out loud.  They can make the voice recognition better every year but they can’t fix the fact that if you talk out loud you’re considered annoying at the least and out-and-out crazy in the extreme.  I want to use Siri a lot more but it’s still not ‘normal’ to talk to your phone.

Or your cat I suppose.

I hear arguments

Posted on by November 14, 2015

I hear arguments

“I didn’t move the fridge, who would do that?”
“It doesn’t match the countertop, it must have been moved!”
“It never matched the countertop, its white and the countertop is grey.”
“Bloody Hell woman! I mean its not flush! Its got a huge f-ing gap where its supposed to be flush with the countertop. You knew what I meant!”
“Don’t be pedantic, its not attractive on you.”

“I know what pendantic means, do you? Cause you just used it incorrectly.”
“What does it mean then Mr. GSCE?”
“What, pendantic? Its meaning is usually inferred by its usage, but you’ve used it incorrectly.”
“How could I use it incorrectly? If I said what I intended to say then it was the correct usuage.”
“No no no, its not just a space filler, its not some sort of McGuffin. Pendantic has a set definition and if you’ve used it in a sentence to mean something else then you’ve used it incorrectly, see?”
“I stand by what I said. You were being pendantic then and you’re being pendantic now. More so even.”
“What do you think it means then if you’re going to continue to use it for every adverb in every sentence you spout off?”
“It means you’re a bloddy micromanager and you get so worked up by details that you can’t just push the fridge back into ‘true’ as you call it you have to have a full on investigation about it. You want me to call in a private investigator? A CSI unit maybe? What does it bloddy matter who did it or why? If it bothers you, fix it. End of!”

<long pause>

<chuckle> “McGuffin!” <chuckle>

Fisherton Street, Salisbury

Posted on by November 3, 2015

copypoultrycross

A placeholder till I can take a pic myself. Salisbury high street. LOUISE J. RAYNER

I walk under a bridge to get to the station each morning and once very early I ran into a guy who pointed back the way he came and grumbled “Bloody Polish!”

He was all moon eyed and jittery but I looked back there to see what he was pointing at and said “Sorry?” In that unhelpful British way I’ve adopted. He gave me a look of disgust and said it again slower. “Bloody….Polish!” then wandered on over to the bus stop on the corner.

The only thing of note along his direction was the Poultry Cross marking the 15th century location of the town market. Or part of it anyway. There useta be more than one including a ‘cheese cross’ so I don’t know what the old boy was going on about.

PostCard: Three Cups Inn, Stockbridge

Posted on by November 29, 2015

They have three ciders on draught, very unusual for pubs around here. They have Harry Sparrow (4.6%,) Stofford Press (4.5%), and Pheasant Plucker(4.5%).  Pheasant Plucker is a tad sweet,  Harry Sparrow very good for an Asphal cider, and Stofford Press is very fizzy. For three ciders that are nearly the same alcohol content they have very distinct flavors. I have had all three before and rate the Harry Sparrow the best of three unless I was treating someone new to ciders, then start them with PP and move on. I only drink Stowford Press when there’s nothing else on offer. It’s a bit generic.
Lifting a toast to absent friends.
-cheers,  Flashj