Yay!
Back at Japanese classes last night after half term.
I love my Japanese class.
Cute as Mayuko-sensei is, however, I feel that maybe she might expand her teaching technique in a new direction.
Next week I think I might show her this …
A while back, oddball Japanese TV show (is there any other kind?) "Vermilion Pleasure Night" aired a series called "ワンポイント英会話" (One Point English Lesson); a totally glorious piss-take of language learning shows featuring a beautiful geisha teaching English phrases to her Japanese boyfriend Toshi.
Except that the phrases she teaches are … er … not the kind of things you want your mother to hear.
This is one of the milder ones (and my personal favourite due to the added grammar lesson), but if you want to see just how outrageously filthy our potty-mouthed geisha can get, pop on over to JapanSugoi (awesome Japan) and watch all six episodes.
Just DON'T DO IT AT WORK or indeed in front of anyone of a delicate nature.
Now "listen and repeat …"
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The Smirking Gnome.
Great merciful Heavens! What a shiny red acorn that is!
You know the drill: Click on his … er … acorn to make it bigger. You really must, if only to see the expression on the squirrel's face.
We found this little fellow lurking in the woods at one of our schools and simply had to liberate him.
His … er … squirrel had broken off so we taped it up, meaning to have him repaired.
That was many, many years ago.
He has remained our departmental mascot ever since.
He moves around from desk to desk at night and you never know when you'll come in one morning to find him sitting on your chair.
He has never had a name.
We just love his evil eyes, his dirty smirk, his shiny, red … acorn in his furtive grip.
And that poor squirrel!
Where has he put his other hand to make it look that startled?
And what exactly is it holding in its little paws?
Anyhoo … What kind of fool would want to train a squirrel to give blow jobs? With those teeth, surely that's a risk too far!
Even hand jobs with those nasty little claws …
Brr …
Do you guys have an office mascot?
Is it as creepy as ours?
You know the drill: Click on his … er … acorn to make it bigger. You really must, if only to see the expression on the squirrel's face.
We found this little fellow lurking in the woods at one of our schools and simply had to liberate him.His … er … squirrel had broken off so we taped it up, meaning to have him repaired.
That was many, many years ago.
He has remained our departmental mascot ever since.
He moves around from desk to desk at night and you never know when you'll come in one morning to find him sitting on your chair.
He has never had a name.
We just love his evil eyes, his dirty smirk, his shiny, red … acorn in his furtive grip.
And that poor squirrel!
Where has he put his other hand to make it look that startled?
And what exactly is it holding in its little paws?
Anyhoo … What kind of fool would want to train a squirrel to give blow jobs? With those teeth, surely that's a risk too far!
Even hand jobs with those nasty little claws …
Brr …
Do you guys have an office mascot?
Is it as creepy as ours?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Very Moving
Sheesh!
Moving offices sucks. Even though we were just moving to another floor in the same building it's been chaos (hence the blog break).
This is our new room. Much bigger than the old one but kind of echoey so when it's quiet it seems REALLY quiet and everyone just grins at one another and starts whispering and giggling.
I was supposed to have the first desk on the left with CB on my right but it was too exposed so I'm now in the third desk down and Chris the second. Nobody wants the end two desks so we've given them to the surveyors to hot-desk.
Here's our Genevieve (who some of you might recognise from Christmas drunk-time).
Gen's American so she is always getting overexcited about everything. She loved moving; it made her jump up and down and squeal a lot.
That's one of our little informal meeting areas along the corridor.
For once the architects' department has a whole floor to ourselves! Yay!
A nice new kitchen to mess up.
Note the fire door (which should always be closed) propped open with a fire extinguisher. Luckily the Fire Officer gives us notice of when he's coming round to inspect so we have time to run around and close all the fire doors that we usually leave propped open.
Pauline, Melissa and Little Amanda (as opposed to Big Amanda who you all know and love) watch the rest of us work.
Pauline sits across from me on my right. She's Queen Bee; second in command after CB.
We share the same surname and occasionally have to put up in a hotel together when visiting one of our more remote schools.
We book two single rooms and then turn up together at reception and announce "Mr.and Mrs. 'X' … Two rooms; we're having an argument."
Well it always makes us giggle.
This is where Old Dive will be checking your blogs and emails from now on.
Not until lunchtime though, as my boss now sits just off camera to my right and can see my monitor, dammit!
It's a more heirarchical set-up in the new office so the kids are all down at the far end (you can just make out Amanda's head way in the distance behind Tim's shoulder) and my life will be a lot more peaceful.
When kids actually have to get up off their asses and walk a few paces to ask a question you'd be amazed how many fewer questions they actually ask.
It's great! It filters out all of the dumb questions - well most of 'em, anyway.
Anyhoo … We moved in and the first day the aircon broke, leaving the rest of the building stifling and our new floor freezing, so now - while I am happily working from home - there are men on ladders everywhere, taking the ceiling to pieces and scratching their heads. Hopefully it will be sorted by the time I get back there on Friday.
So that's what I've been doing. How about you?
Moving offices sucks. Even though we were just moving to another floor in the same building it's been chaos (hence the blog break).
This is our new room. Much bigger than the old one but kind of echoey so when it's quiet it seems REALLY quiet and everyone just grins at one another and starts whispering and giggling.I was supposed to have the first desk on the left with CB on my right but it was too exposed so I'm now in the third desk down and Chris the second. Nobody wants the end two desks so we've given them to the surveyors to hot-desk.
Here's our Genevieve (who some of you might recognise from Christmas drunk-time).Gen's American so she is always getting overexcited about everything. She loved moving; it made her jump up and down and squeal a lot.
That's one of our little informal meeting areas along the corridor.
For once the architects' department has a whole floor to ourselves! Yay!
A nice new kitchen to mess up.Note the fire door (which should always be closed) propped open with a fire extinguisher. Luckily the Fire Officer gives us notice of when he's coming round to inspect so we have time to run around and close all the fire doors that we usually leave propped open.
Pauline, Melissa and Little Amanda (as opposed to Big Amanda who you all know and love) watch the rest of us work.Pauline sits across from me on my right. She's Queen Bee; second in command after CB.
We share the same surname and occasionally have to put up in a hotel together when visiting one of our more remote schools.
We book two single rooms and then turn up together at reception and announce "Mr.and Mrs. 'X' … Two rooms; we're having an argument."
Well it always makes us giggle.
This is where Old Dive will be checking your blogs and emails from now on.Not until lunchtime though, as my boss now sits just off camera to my right and can see my monitor, dammit!
It's a more heirarchical set-up in the new office so the kids are all down at the far end (you can just make out Amanda's head way in the distance behind Tim's shoulder) and my life will be a lot more peaceful.
When kids actually have to get up off their asses and walk a few paces to ask a question you'd be amazed how many fewer questions they actually ask.
It's great! It filters out all of the dumb questions - well most of 'em, anyway.
Anyhoo … We moved in and the first day the aircon broke, leaving the rest of the building stifling and our new floor freezing, so now - while I am happily working from home - there are men on ladders everywhere, taking the ceiling to pieces and scratching their heads. Hopefully it will be sorted by the time I get back there on Friday.
So that's what I've been doing. How about you?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
What's Cooking With Dive? Razor Clams
Razor clams! Yay!
Today, to the horror of our more squeamish Blogville neighbours, Old Dive is going to be steaming these wriggly little fuckers in their own tears.
Woohoo!
Don't worry; I'll be adding lots of wine so they'll die shit-faced and happy.
And then I'll eat them.
Yum!
So … Razorclams … These guys are spiffy.
Feisty little doo-dads with a great personality.
They just luurve getting a good rinse; their feet come out and waggle around happily.
Lean your head down and you'll hear their little voices piping up at you …
"Me! Me! … Me first! I wanna go first! Let me bathe in that yummy hot wine!"
Rinse them really well in cold water (or sea water if you live close enough to the beach) as they tend to spit sand.
Some people parboil razorclams and then cut off the dark gut section but not me; I like wine too much and I am humane enough to want to give the little guys a last drink.
Just leave the dark bit on the side of the plate. That's the part where all the sand is, so you can eat the rest without unnecessary crunchy bits marring the succulence.
A tomato, garlic, onion, red wine and olive sauce is good with these but any hint of a sauce with seafood grosses Lynn out so today I'll be steaming them using white wine and herbs and a quick side salad of chorizo, broad beans and shallots, together with some wakame seaweed to make our little friends feel at home.
Chorizo … check.
Broad beans … Whop 'em in the steamer for three minutes or so.
Then heat up your best olive oil (you've heard me swear about this stuff so many times so I won't repeat myself here), add good garlic and a couple of shallots finely chopped (save half for the next part) and let them go all silky and transparent.
Add the wafer-thin chorizo and let it sweat some of the fat out into the oil and onions and then toss in the beans for the last minute.
Quick. Easy. Tasty.
Meanwhile, in another pan (heavy, flat-bottomed, non-stick frying pan with a glass lid with a built in steamer vent), heat up more olive oil and liquify the other half of the shallots and garlic.
Then add rather a lot of really, really good white wine (time to break out the Chablis), a little at a time until it is simmering away and filling the kitchen with pure joy.
Have a glug yourself while you're at it. Get those tastebuds perked up for the treat to come.
It's about now that tossing in a dozen basil leaves and a bunch of parsley would be a good idea but - as you can see - I forgot and had to throw them in later.
Now, take those happy, wriggling razor clams and give them a few good squeezes each.
Do it over the sink as they'll squirt water everywhere.
Then pop them into the hot wine and whap that lid on sharpish!
Where the water was hugged out of them, they'll suck up lots of Chablis and herbs and die extremely happy.
Two and a half minutes is the absolute maximum these guys want to be in there.
After only a few seconds you'll see them all open up (discard any that don't open, but then you knew that anyway).
These were really fat, healthy, fresh clams from David and so they all opened and were all totally Heavenly.
Half a dozen each is about right.
Stick 'em on a plate and get in there!
The rich fattiness of the chorizo and bean salad, the glorious herby wine cutting through it, the clean taste of wakame and the utterly orgasmic succulence of the razorclams makes for a delicious combination.
Boffo!
Today, to the horror of our more squeamish Blogville neighbours, Old Dive is going to be steaming these wriggly little fuckers in their own tears.
Woohoo!
Don't worry; I'll be adding lots of wine so they'll die shit-faced and happy.
And then I'll eat them.
Yum!
So … Razorclams … These guys are spiffy.Feisty little doo-dads with a great personality.
They just luurve getting a good rinse; their feet come out and waggle around happily.
Lean your head down and you'll hear their little voices piping up at you …
"Me! Me! … Me first! I wanna go first! Let me bathe in that yummy hot wine!"
Rinse them really well in cold water (or sea water if you live close enough to the beach) as they tend to spit sand.Some people parboil razorclams and then cut off the dark gut section but not me; I like wine too much and I am humane enough to want to give the little guys a last drink.
Just leave the dark bit on the side of the plate. That's the part where all the sand is, so you can eat the rest without unnecessary crunchy bits marring the succulence.
A tomato, garlic, onion, red wine and olive sauce is good with these but any hint of a sauce with seafood grosses Lynn out so today I'll be steaming them using white wine and herbs and a quick side salad of chorizo, broad beans and shallots, together with some wakame seaweed to make our little friends feel at home.
Chorizo … check.
Broad beans … Whop 'em in the steamer for three minutes or so.
Then heat up your best olive oil (you've heard me swear about this stuff so many times so I won't repeat myself here), add good garlic and a couple of shallots finely chopped (save half for the next part) and let them go all silky and transparent.Add the wafer-thin chorizo and let it sweat some of the fat out into the oil and onions and then toss in the beans for the last minute.
Quick. Easy. Tasty.
Meanwhile, in another pan (heavy, flat-bottomed, non-stick frying pan with a glass lid with a built in steamer vent), heat up more olive oil and liquify the other half of the shallots and garlic.Then add rather a lot of really, really good white wine (time to break out the Chablis), a little at a time until it is simmering away and filling the kitchen with pure joy.
Have a glug yourself while you're at it. Get those tastebuds perked up for the treat to come.
It's about now that tossing in a dozen basil leaves and a bunch of parsley would be a good idea but - as you can see - I forgot and had to throw them in later.
Now, take those happy, wriggling razor clams and give them a few good squeezes each.Do it over the sink as they'll squirt water everywhere.
Then pop them into the hot wine and whap that lid on sharpish!
Where the water was hugged out of them, they'll suck up lots of Chablis and herbs and die extremely happy.
Two and a half minutes is the absolute maximum these guys want to be in there.After only a few seconds you'll see them all open up (discard any that don't open, but then you knew that anyway).
These were really fat, healthy, fresh clams from David and so they all opened and were all totally Heavenly.
Half a dozen each is about right.Stick 'em on a plate and get in there!
The rich fattiness of the chorizo and bean salad, the glorious herby wine cutting through it, the clean taste of wakame and the utterly orgasmic succulence of the razorclams makes for a delicious combination.
Boffo!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Blogging Break Photo Filler 6
I prepared all these filler posts well in advance so I could actually have a break, which means that I don't know right now how the office move went but if nothing exploded I should be spending the day unpacking everything and finding nothing works and hoping that there won't be a repeat of the last move where we ended up dumspter diving for all of our equipment and files that had got trashed by the stupid movers.
So … Time for a relaxing photo of … er … mussel shells on a boat. Hey ho.
This is down by the lake where Phil goes fishing.
Actually, these shells are a kind of hint that I'll be doing a "What's Cooking With Dive?" post tomorrow.
Get your pinnies on!
So … Time for a relaxing photo of … er … mussel shells on a boat. Hey ho.This is down by the lake where Phil goes fishing.
Actually, these shells are a kind of hint that I'll be doing a "What's Cooking With Dive?" post tomorrow.
Get your pinnies on!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Blogging Break Photo Filler 5
Today's Blogging Break Photo Filler is that photo of Breydon Water I took on my way to Japanese class a couple of summers ago.
Kinda peaceful.
Those were the actual colours; no filters or Photoshop; just weird pinkness.
And here are a couple of photos I took on my way to the coast yesterday morning.
This - together with Breydon Water above - is the scene Dickens was describing as his protagonist approached Great Yarmouth in David Copperfield.
It's pretty much unchanged since then … in fact for thousands of years; this road being built on a neolithic trackway.
One of the hundreds of windpumps that litter my local landscape
(click on these two; they blow up big).
This really is Big Sky Country - other than the sky there's bugger all to look at.
Norfolk is not flat … it's just that someone sneaked underneath our mountains one night and let all the air out.
Those were the actual colours; no filters or Photoshop; just weird pinkness.
And here are a couple of photos I took on my way to the coast yesterday morning.
This - together with Breydon Water above - is the scene Dickens was describing as his protagonist approached Great Yarmouth in David Copperfield.It's pretty much unchanged since then … in fact for thousands of years; this road being built on a neolithic trackway.
One of the hundreds of windpumps that litter my local landscape(click on these two; they blow up big).
This really is Big Sky Country - other than the sky there's bugger all to look at.
Norfolk is not flat … it's just that someone sneaked underneath our mountains one night and let all the air out.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Blogging Break Photo Filler 4
I've taken so many shots of the London Eye over the years.
These are a couple of my favourites.It's fun to just wander along from my office to Westminster Bridge after dark, prop the camera on a railing and hit the "natural light exposure" button.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Blogging Break Photo Filler 2
Today's filler photo while Dive is away comes from yummy Green Park in London, my regular haunt for lunchtime sushi and a place I tend to drag my Blogville visitors when they come to London.
I like it here.
I can breathe deeply and see things more clearly.
Here are more lovely "autumn in the parks" photos, should you wish to join me for a quiet stroll.
I like it here.I can breathe deeply and see things more clearly.
Here are more lovely "autumn in the parks" photos, should you wish to join me for a quiet stroll.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Blogging Break
We're moving office this weekend (still in the same building; my department is just taking over the entire ground floor … yay) and on top of that I am ridiculously busy and haven't been sleeping properly since before Christmas so until all this crap blows over I'll be restricting my blogging to posting a photo a day from my past favourites as I cannot spare the time to write proper posts right now.
First up.
This is one from waaay back in the murky depths of my archives and shows the light from a stained glass window falling on one of the monumental Norman columns in Norwich Cathedral.
The full post is here and it has lots and lots of beautiful photos of the Cathedral in it.
Enjoy.
First up.
This is one from waaay back in the murky depths of my archives and shows the light from a stained glass window falling on one of the monumental Norman columns in Norwich Cathedral.The full post is here and it has lots and lots of beautiful photos of the Cathedral in it.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Just For The Fuck Of It
No reason …
Why should anyone need a reason?
Hokay … so the reason is that this came on iTunes random play when I was feeling particularly crappy and for six minutes and forty-three seconds everything was alright.
So if it did that for me I hope it can do it for you, too.
Why should anyone need a reason?
Hokay … so the reason is that this came on iTunes random play when I was feeling particularly crappy and for six minutes and forty-three seconds everything was alright.
So if it did that for me I hope it can do it for you, too.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Road To Oblivion's Pier
Our wonderful friend Lucio posted a line by Emily Dickinson at the weekend:
"It Is Said That Above Oblivion's Tide There Is A Pier".
I'd like to know precisely by whom that is said, Emily. I have a feeling that same person's descendents now write for Wikipedia …
I speculated to Lucio that if the pier were anything like my own local piers a leap into Oblivion's tide would seem a less depressing option than the alternative soul-destroying mélange of carny creepiness and washed-up celebs performing endless, purgatorial floor-shows redolent with desperation.
For any of you who were not around for my ancient series of photoposts called "Coast" (actually, mostly a breathtakingly beautiful stroll along my local littoral but with a stop-off in today's off-season tourist Hell) here are a few photos of the pier that would make a leap into Oblivion's tide look so tempting …
Oblivion welcomes you with open arms.
Fab!
For fun, you can stand (or bring your own chair) in a freezing, windswept concrete hutch and gaze out over Oblivion's Tide.
Alternatively, for a small fee you can watch Oblivion's wind turbines go round and round …
… or look at a man looking at a fishing rod.
Fun! ………… yay.
There are carny rides in Oblivion.
Enticing, eh?
If the tacky delights of Long John's Showbar fail to tempt you, you can venture inside Romany Petulengro's authentic … er … gypsy caravan, cross her palm with silver and she'll tell you that your future lies in a despairing leap from the pier into Oblivion's welcoming tide.
Before plunging into Oblivion's icy embrace any gourmands amongst you might feel drawn to a last meal of fish and chips, served - dripping with stale cooking oil and little burnt bits - with a "Pukka Pie", whatever the fuck that might be.
The vom-stain on the pavement outside shows that at least one customer was brave enough to ingest this foul fare, though it appears to escaped before he could get too far.
Pleasure … apparently.
Ah, the mystical east beckons in the form of a mechanical camel race with hugely offensive racist overtones.
Baywatch this is not.
My favourite ride on the whole pier.
Pitiful, isn't it?
"American Highway."
"£1.50 for a long ride."
Ah, the wide open spaces of the west open before my ragtop '65 Mustang as I put pedal to the metal and roar off down Route 66 with the wind in my hair and Thelma and Louise bickering in the back seat.
And a painting of a gay policeman in a miniskirt looming over me for some reason …
For fuck's sake, not even Hell itself has rides as pathetic as this one.
Despair overwhelms me …
California … sigh.
I can do all the California Dreaming I like but around here this is the only place it will get me.
Hey ho. Looks like Oblivion is the only way to go.
Let's take a running jump off the end of the pier …
Ready?
WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo
(splash).
"It Is Said That Above Oblivion's Tide There Is A Pier".
I'd like to know precisely by whom that is said, Emily. I have a feeling that same person's descendents now write for Wikipedia …
I speculated to Lucio that if the pier were anything like my own local piers a leap into Oblivion's tide would seem a less depressing option than the alternative soul-destroying mélange of carny creepiness and washed-up celebs performing endless, purgatorial floor-shows redolent with desperation.
For any of you who were not around for my ancient series of photoposts called "Coast" (actually, mostly a breathtakingly beautiful stroll along my local littoral but with a stop-off in today's off-season tourist Hell) here are a few photos of the pier that would make a leap into Oblivion's tide look so tempting …
Oblivion welcomes you with open arms.
Fab!
For fun, you can stand (or bring your own chair) in a freezing, windswept concrete hutch and gaze out over Oblivion's Tide.
Alternatively, for a small fee you can watch Oblivion's wind turbines go round and round …… or look at a man looking at a fishing rod.
Fun! ………… yay.
There are carny rides in Oblivion.Enticing, eh?
If the tacky delights of Long John's Showbar fail to tempt you, you can venture inside Romany Petulengro's authentic … er … gypsy caravan, cross her palm with silver and she'll tell you that your future lies in a despairing leap from the pier into Oblivion's welcoming tide.
Before plunging into Oblivion's icy embrace any gourmands amongst you might feel drawn to a last meal of fish and chips, served - dripping with stale cooking oil and little burnt bits - with a "Pukka Pie", whatever the fuck that might be.The vom-stain on the pavement outside shows that at least one customer was brave enough to ingest this foul fare, though it appears to escaped before he could get too far.
Pleasure … apparently.
Ah, the mystical east beckons in the form of a mechanical camel race with hugely offensive racist overtones.
Baywatch this is not.
My favourite ride on the whole pier.Pitiful, isn't it?
"American Highway."
"£1.50 for a long ride."
Ah, the wide open spaces of the west open before my ragtop '65 Mustang as I put pedal to the metal and roar off down Route 66 with the wind in my hair and Thelma and Louise bickering in the back seat.
And a painting of a gay policeman in a miniskirt looming over me for some reason …
For fuck's sake, not even Hell itself has rides as pathetic as this one.
Despair overwhelms me …
California … sigh.I can do all the California Dreaming I like but around here this is the only place it will get me.
Hey ho. Looks like Oblivion is the only way to go.
Let's take a running jump off the end of the pier …
Ready?
WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo
(splash).
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Say It With A Sausage
Ah, nothing says I love you like "chopped sausage with curry ketchup topping".
Joy and Dive were heading off to meet Thom after breakfast yesterday and we simply couldn't resist this poor, miserable, cold guy with his horrid-looking sausages and chocolate hearts standing under the word "Brat".
I am sure his bratwurst were delicious but he looked so pissed with me for taking his photo that I dare not ask.
Anyhoo … I shall leave the stew of yesterday's mystery Valentine simmering for a little longer and distract you with a boring photopost of my usual Saturday morning routine.
Regrettably, my own Valentine's morning was not spent snuggled under the duvet with the sender of my card, but instead in my regular Saturday breakfast haunt of the Starbies in Borders bookshop.
I'm not a huge fan of Starbies but the service we got at our old coffee haunt was so bad that it drove us here.
Besides, the books are good.
Anyhoo … Here's baby brother Phil and Tony, star of The Worst Band In The World™ who was still recovering from the previous night's rather excellent gig.
This is where anyone who wants to find Old Dive will be able to find me on any Saturday.
Phil and I arrive first. We sit here and split the Guardian; I have the book review section and Phil takes the sports pages.
We walk in as the place opens to be greeted by the singsong voice of our lovely barista yelling cheerfully across the bookshop "One skinny and one fat!" which is how we take our lattes.
I'm the skinny one … I accompany that with toasted fruit bread, thick and yummy and dripping with melted butter.
Together with my skinny latte I call that a "balanced diet".
And here is Tony's lovely wife Terri with our own Joy. Terri had danced her ass off at the gig the previous night but was still more awake than Tony, who'd merely been sitting down behind his drums.
While most of the world is still in bed we come here every Saturday morning to talk music and rugby and put the world to rights and then hit the shops before the queues build up.
I hate queues, which is odd considering queueing is England's national sport, so I am always out of the city and heading home when most folk are crowding in to the place to moan about not being able to park and having to queue for bloody ages.
If they just had the sense to get their fat arses out of bed a little earlier they would discover the joys of empty shops with no waiting and shop assistants who are pleased to see you.
Idiots.
So anyhoo; after breakfast, Joy and Dive headed for the Royal Arcade to meet up with Thom who was having his hair cut.
We got kinda distracted by this little lot.
Mmmm … Sex.
As it was Valentine's Day I had to take a photo of England's most romantic couple (they truly are) and scream with jealousy at Thom's unfeasibly dashing new haircut, something a baldy-man like me will never be able to experience.
Sigh …
So … Boring but true: Old Dive's typical Saturday breakfast.
You're more than welcome to come and join us any time.
Joy and Dive were heading off to meet Thom after breakfast yesterday and we simply couldn't resist this poor, miserable, cold guy with his horrid-looking sausages and chocolate hearts standing under the word "Brat".I am sure his bratwurst were delicious but he looked so pissed with me for taking his photo that I dare not ask.
Anyhoo … I shall leave the stew of yesterday's mystery Valentine simmering for a little longer and distract you with a boring photopost of my usual Saturday morning routine.
Regrettably, my own Valentine's morning was not spent snuggled under the duvet with the sender of my card, but instead in my regular Saturday breakfast haunt of the Starbies in Borders bookshop.
I'm not a huge fan of Starbies but the service we got at our old coffee haunt was so bad that it drove us here.
Besides, the books are good.
Anyhoo … Here's baby brother Phil and Tony, star of The Worst Band In The World™ who was still recovering from the previous night's rather excellent gig.This is where anyone who wants to find Old Dive will be able to find me on any Saturday.
Phil and I arrive first. We sit here and split the Guardian; I have the book review section and Phil takes the sports pages.
We walk in as the place opens to be greeted by the singsong voice of our lovely barista yelling cheerfully across the bookshop "One skinny and one fat!" which is how we take our lattes.
I'm the skinny one … I accompany that with toasted fruit bread, thick and yummy and dripping with melted butter.
Together with my skinny latte I call that a "balanced diet".
And here is Tony's lovely wife Terri with our own Joy. Terri had danced her ass off at the gig the previous night but was still more awake than Tony, who'd merely been sitting down behind his drums.While most of the world is still in bed we come here every Saturday morning to talk music and rugby and put the world to rights and then hit the shops before the queues build up.
I hate queues, which is odd considering queueing is England's national sport, so I am always out of the city and heading home when most folk are crowding in to the place to moan about not being able to park and having to queue for bloody ages.
If they just had the sense to get their fat arses out of bed a little earlier they would discover the joys of empty shops with no waiting and shop assistants who are pleased to see you.
Idiots.
So anyhoo; after breakfast, Joy and Dive headed for the Royal Arcade to meet up with Thom who was having his hair cut.We got kinda distracted by this little lot.
Mmmm … Sex.
As it was Valentine's Day I had to take a photo of England's most romantic couple (they truly are) and scream with jealousy at Thom's unfeasibly dashing new haircut, something a baldy-man like me will never be able to experience.Sigh …
So … Boring but true: Old Dive's typical Saturday breakfast.
You're more than welcome to come and join us any time.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
My Funny Valentine
Be afraid.
Be very afraid … for the world is surely about to end.
Stop whooping, Shan; it's not Judgement Day just yet but I do believe one of the signs of impending apocalypse is for me to receive a Valentine's Day card; something I have not done since college, when Jackie the anorexic girl (model for "Anorexic Girl" in the New Kid comic strips) was chasing me.
And speaking of Anna Rex, the card that plopped on to my doormat (or was it into my in-tray?) features her, too.
Hokay, conspiracy fans, over to you:
The clues are:
(a) It was addressed to "Dive" so I must assume it came either from Blogville or one of those weirdo lurkers (hi, guys).
(b) How the fuck did the sender find out where to send it (though I confess it is pretty easy to figure out where I live and where I work from my posts)?
(c) There is an initial inside, but no name.
Any clues as to who Dive's secret admirer may be?
I know and I am grinning bashfully.
Hee hee hee hee hee …
Be very afraid … for the world is surely about to end.
Stop whooping, Shan; it's not Judgement Day just yet but I do believe one of the signs of impending apocalypse is for me to receive a Valentine's Day card; something I have not done since college, when Jackie the anorexic girl (model for "Anorexic Girl" in the New Kid comic strips) was chasing me.
And speaking of Anna Rex, the card that plopped on to my doormat (or was it into my in-tray?) features her, too.
Hokay, conspiracy fans, over to you:The clues are:
(a) It was addressed to "Dive" so I must assume it came either from Blogville or one of those weirdo lurkers (hi, guys).
(b) How the fuck did the sender find out where to send it (though I confess it is pretty easy to figure out where I live and where I work from my posts)?
(c) There is an initial inside, but no name.
Any clues as to who Dive's secret admirer may be?
I know and I am grinning bashfully.
Hee hee hee hee hee …
Friday, February 13, 2009
Friday The Thirteenth Is My Lucky Day
Sheesh!
The servers at the orifice have been throwing shitfits all day and the train home was crap and late and now I have to go out and watch Tony's band ritually slaughter some songs that truly deserve more respect so today is a "no time to blog" day.
Thank goodness for my heroine Natalie Dee. She saves my bacon once again.
For those of you who think swearing is funny click here to discover what Old Dive really thinks about Valentine's Day.
And there's a SHOCK HORROR sequel to that very post coming up tomorrow.
The servers at the orifice have been throwing shitfits all day and the train home was crap and late and now I have to go out and watch Tony's band ritually slaughter some songs that truly deserve more respect so today is a "no time to blog" day.
Thank goodness for my heroine Natalie Dee. She saves my bacon once again.
For those of you who think swearing is funny click here to discover what Old Dive really thinks about Valentine's Day.And there's a SHOCK HORROR sequel to that very post coming up tomorrow.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Aww Crap!
What the fuck is going on with this poxy weather?
Eh?
Where's the Spring I ordered?
I woke up this morning to more of this crap. Bollocks to snow!
Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!
At least the Cathedral looked pretty.
Now stop messing me about and give me my Spring!
NOW!
Where's the Spring I ordered?
I woke up this morning to more of this crap. Bollocks to snow!
Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!
At least the Cathedral looked pretty.Now stop messing me about and give me my Spring!
NOW!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Hunky
For all of those weemen who were clamouring in my comments box for a photo of a hunky fireman, here's handsome Fireman Dive.
Wanna see my hosepipe, laydees?Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Filler Diller
You got the "busy" signal again, so while you wait for Old Dive to get a spare moment in which to blog, here's Young Dive pretending to sweep the footpath.
Cute knees, huh?
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