Hah!
Just when you thought I'd properly gone - forgotten to WTD; misplaced my laptop (netbook, actually); taken a trip (wouldn't that be nice - New Zealand, maybe?) - up I pop again. Released. Free to blog. Or to be more exact, free-ish.
WTD has been ... well? Rather empty in recent months.Kind of hope you've noticed. Cause? - other writing projects (hmm, more about these later - I add in a tantalising, playful way *smile*); a little (extremely) boring something called appraisal, which is nearly - oh, so nearly done - but not yet executed i.e. subjected to third party scrutiny. Eek! Fingers crossed for early November; school holidays and start of term and (daily) finding of hockey sticks; trainers (both feet!); water bottles; times tables practising early morning brain; piano books and the correct hair ties (no, not the scrunchy one with decapitated bear's head attached!); and ... well, you know - an agonising, prolonged bout of procrastination, coupled with fingers stiffened into frozen rigors by my inept attempts at finally trying to learn how to type. Properly.
Anyway, enough of self-indulgent twaddle.
Four-Legged-Friend is fine
As is his new, rapidly growing, and husband says "fat", yellow friend
In my head are numerous blogs that you have been spared and a couple that I will spit out here in the next few days, if you care to come back for a look.
In the meantime, have you ever dreamt of a 'last' supper ('last' as in the supper to end all suppers) - not necessarily the food (although, maybe that could be another blog) - but, instead, who you would invite? And why you would invite them.
My dream dinner - and I think I need to build on this, as I have just remembered aperitifs - would have story telling - not just any story telling, but BRILLIANT story telling - as the theme for starters, with Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles Dickens and John Buchan invited, plus poetry from Robert Burns (a rogue, but I think, a likeable rogue). Main course would involve other-worldly, philosophical and scientific discussion with Carl Sagan, Professor Brian Cox, Phillip Pullman, Baruch Spinoza and Leonardo da Vinci. Desert would be preceded by a meeting between Barack Obama and David Livingstone - with a handshake, and, of course, 'Dr Livingstone, I presume.'
... a lot of Scots. And no women. May need to think some more.
Who would you invite? What would you wish to talk about?
Wouldn't it be amazing to show da Vinci the magic of modern science; and to tell Livingstone how we remember him?
What paintings would you hang on the walls? Unviolated Rothkos, perhaps? A Turner or two? What music would accompany your discussion? Or would the debate be music enough? And what about the food?
Dream on.
Why? Because dreams like this help us to sort out those things that are important in our lives. The subjects and passions that make us who we are. The beliefs that format our actions. If we dream well, we become who we dream of being.
Just when you thought I'd properly gone - forgotten to WTD; misplaced my laptop (netbook, actually); taken a trip (wouldn't that be nice - New Zealand, maybe?) - up I pop again. Released. Free to blog. Or to be more exact, free-ish.
WTD has been ... well? Rather empty in recent months.Kind of hope you've noticed. Cause? - other writing projects (hmm, more about these later - I add in a tantalising, playful way *smile*); a little (extremely) boring something called appraisal, which is nearly - oh, so nearly done - but not yet executed i.e. subjected to third party scrutiny. Eek! Fingers crossed for early November; school holidays and start of term and (daily) finding of hockey sticks; trainers (both feet!); water bottles; times tables practising early morning brain; piano books and the correct hair ties (no, not the scrunchy one with decapitated bear's head attached!); and ... well, you know - an agonising, prolonged bout of procrastination, coupled with fingers stiffened into frozen rigors by my inept attempts at finally trying to learn how to type. Properly.
Anyway, enough of self-indulgent twaddle.
Four-Legged-Friend is fine
As is his new, rapidly growing, and husband says "fat", yellow friend
And they ably demonstrate the truism that is 'boys will be boys'
I only intervene when Little Friend yelps and stops throwing himself in for more.
In my head are numerous blogs that you have been spared and a couple that I will spit out here in the next few days, if you care to come back for a look.
In the meantime, have you ever dreamt of a 'last' supper ('last' as in the supper to end all suppers) - not necessarily the food (although, maybe that could be another blog) - but, instead, who you would invite? And why you would invite them.
My dream dinner - and I think I need to build on this, as I have just remembered aperitifs - would have story telling - not just any story telling, but BRILLIANT story telling - as the theme for starters, with Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles Dickens and John Buchan invited, plus poetry from Robert Burns (a rogue, but I think, a likeable rogue). Main course would involve other-worldly, philosophical and scientific discussion with Carl Sagan, Professor Brian Cox, Phillip Pullman, Baruch Spinoza and Leonardo da Vinci. Desert would be preceded by a meeting between Barack Obama and David Livingstone - with a handshake, and, of course, 'Dr Livingstone, I presume.'
... a lot of Scots. And no women. May need to think some more.
Who would you invite? What would you wish to talk about?
Wouldn't it be amazing to show da Vinci the magic of modern science; and to tell Livingstone how we remember him?
What paintings would you hang on the walls? Unviolated Rothkos, perhaps? A Turner or two? What music would accompany your discussion? Or would the debate be music enough? And what about the food?
Dream on.
Why? Because dreams like this help us to sort out those things that are important in our lives. The subjects and passions that make us who we are. The beliefs that format our actions. If we dream well, we become who we dream of being.
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