Lair Of The White Wisteria

The white wisteria outside St.Michael at Plea on Queen Street in Norwich always comes out about two weeks later than the purple wisteria outside St.Giles (see this post from a couple of weeks back).

So for those of you who aren't yet sick of my photos of wisteria, here it is:

Veggie, Chicken, Seafood, Pepperoni

 Random photo, number whatever - I lost count.

Spring is apparently time for paella on Norwich Market.
Michelangelo's Hand of God chooses seafood.

Yum!

Does There Have To Be A Reason?

My favourite counter in Digby's hand-made chocolate emporium.
Contrary to rumour I don't ONLY go in there to be waited on by pretty girls in little black dresses and long white gloves.
Though it helps …

500 Words XLVII - Final Warning

Just a reminder: your 500 Words assignments for April are due in this week.
Here's the assignment in case you've forgotten.
Those of you who leave their homework until after midnight the day before it's due in should sharpen your pencils now.

Ding Dong, etc …

Boy howdy, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the head of Pakistan's Inter-Service Intelligence got the call this morning. I imagine he must have comprehensively soiled himself. A lot of people over there are going to need several changes of underwear over the coming week.

I deplore triumphalism but I think I'll have to forgive US celebrations today.
For once, Western intelligence services appear to have shown signs of intelligence. So hearty congratulations to them, the US special forces team who went in and did the deed and to President Obama for his almost non-triumphalist announcement of the fact.
Speaking as someone who was travelling on the train immediately in front of one of the 7/7/05 London tube bombs, all I'll say is payback is indeed a bitch, Mr. bin Laden.

Favourite Graf Of The Week

Bugger the royal wedding …

THIS is what it means to be English.

Phil Joins The Professionals

 So, after many months of soul-searching and trying out a myriad of instruments - and lots of swearing, Phil and I headed out this morning with our guitar spears and nets to try to catch him a nice new acoustic.

Our hunt was successful and so at long last I am happy to announce my baby brother has joined the select band of smug, grinning guitar players who own a Martin.

I was fortunate enough to buy mine off Christian Martin IV himself, nigh on thirty years ago and I've loved it more and more each and every day since.
Now Phil will experience for himself that warm glow of Martin ownership and the delicious thrill of jealous hatred from mere mortals when they ask him what he plays.

Here he is playing his sweet new baby, a 00016 model. If only you could hear it. Whooee!

And here's my old Martin D18. I love it more than words can express.

See how just holding it makes my chubby cheeks all grinny.

Oh, and in case you thought you'd come to the wrong blog, I got so sick of my photos not fitting within the narrow confines of my old template that - with some help from Petrea - I've faffed around with the layout. Whether I'll keep it this way I don't know, but at least it's wide enough now to fit my fat butt in.

Meanwhile …

 

 Click on me for larger than life hanami action.

Sha-la-la-la-Push-Push …

 Hey! It's Easter Monday, and time to check if my Jesus bread has risen …

Y'all know how much I love Natalie Dee.
Well, now I've got another reason to love her. As a postscript to Friday's post and comments-fest comes this morning's Natalie cartoon.
Ah, there's hope for America yet …

And as it's Easter Monday and He is RIZ, here to celebrate with us is the tackiest and most tenuous Easter-themed song from Glam's own Mott The Hoople: "Roll Away The Stone."
Any band with a guitar player called Ariel Bender gets my vote.
Dig the bad miming and the fabulous backing singers unashamedly crooning "Sha-la-la-la-Push-Push."



The seventies … Dontcha just love 'em?

Early Wisteria

Sheesh! The stupid hot weather has brought out the lovely wisteria at St.Giles' two weeks earlier than normal.

So here, thanks to the weather gods fucking things up is some premature floral ejaculation to give your eyeballs a treat.
As per usual, click on 'em to see them properly.
Enjoy!