*Eek! I’ve got three stories in it, Clicky…*
*’Succulent Sardines’… that’s the first one I wrote…*
*’Mind the Gap’… Mind palace the gap… /chortle…*
*/smirk… ‘Til the phat lady swings? Clicky, you’re such a wag…*
😉
*Thanks, Clicky… I didn’t realise at the time that Monday’s post was on my PPE anniversary…*
*Okay then, Picky… the first time I wrote about what happened…*
“You’ll love this,” Thoughtful Man told me as I placed a plate of sandwiches next to him on the bed. “Typical newsflash these days.”
He tapped the screen of his phone and scrolled about. “Here it is – ‘People locked in London Zoo’,” he announced.
“Okay,” I replied, refilling his glass with fizzy pop.
He looked at me solemnly. “A gorilla has escaped.”
“So there are people trapped in London Zoo but a gorilla managed to escape?” I said, screwing the top back on the bottle. “Typical.”
“That’s what I said,” Thoughtful man replied through a mouth a cheese and pickle “Mm, delicious. You are the Sandwich Queen.”
I blew him a kiss and went downstairs to do the ironing.
*S’okay, Clicky, they’ve caught it… Carry on and have a Song*
*There you are! /taps foot… I got back really quickly. Where have you been, Clicky?
*Red Franks? I left you at Blue Franks… Clicky, dinner is about to arrive and Thoughtful Man and I have ‘Suicide Squad’ to watch… I wanted to write this post before he got home from work… /wrings hands… *
*Chocolate? You think you can get round me with… chocolate? /takes both… Delicious… Damn, did you hear that?*
*That’s Thoughtful Man pulling up now… Okay, Clicky, laters…*
*Clicky… Dear Reader doesn’t want spoilers! …/taps…*
*/squint…*
*/shields eyes from daylight to stop stinging sensation… Clicky! Oh fuck, my eyes… Clicky?!*
*Oh there you are…/kisses snout… Make us a cuppa, Clicky? …/groans and lights up… What the fuck happened last night?*
*Monologued with Legs… Yeah, what else?*
*/slurps and drags… Then what?*
*Oh yeah, fuck… the Debate… That was fucking excellent…*
*Hey! Have you been wearing my Rubedo mask again, Clicky? I was asleep 49 minutes ago… I know, I still have the taste in my mouth… /lights another… Better…*
*Oh yeah, owls… or is that ‘owls?*
*Alright, let me get myself together, Clicky… /yawns… I think I’ll have another coffee… /stop hand sign… It’s okay, darling, I’ll do it…*
*I know! How did he know I was going to use from TBBT in this post?!*
*Brilliant! Finished it at last, Clicky… /yawn… I think I’ll slip off to bed for a recharge… Give Dear Reader a Song, please…*
*Funny thing happened when I was searching for the clip, Clicky… I was reminded that Doctor Who was in ‘Carry On Screaming’…*
*Legs calls him a popinjay, Click, but then Leggy is either No.1 or 13… *
*An Oscar for grouchiness, right… so I think I’ve worked out who are 4, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13… or one… ish… it’s not easy, you know, Clicky…*
*Tell me about it… / sigh*
It has been a mystery ever since it was discovered more than fifty years ago, and all good theoretical physicists put this number up on their wall and worry about it.) Immediately you would like to know where this number for a coupling comes from: is it related to pi or perhaps to the base of natural logarithms? Nobody knows. It’s one of the greatest damn mysteries of physics: a magic number that comes to us with no understanding by man. You might say the “hand of God” wrote that number, and “we don’t know how He pushed his pencil.” We know what kind of a dance to do experimentally to measure this number very accurately, but we don’t know what kind of dance to do on the computer to make this number come out, without putting it in secretly!
*Ah, Christmas… Clicky, give us a Song…*
*Clicky, I walked past him twice; I couldn’t see how he did it… he’s on a hidden seat, supported by the pole and anchored by the base… Leggy explained exactly how it was done on DM but I’m buggered if I can find…
*No, Clicky, DM… Direct Message on Twitter… Although my boss at the time did call me Penfold… I think it was my glasses…*
*Crikey! No, Commish called me Pepper…*
*Yeah, I miss my chats with Commish… Nevermind, what’s done is done…*
The other day Thoughtful Man brought to my attention a post on his FaceArseBook feed: ‘10 Terrifying Toys From the Past‘. Now, if you’re of a nervous disposition, or require a designated ‘safe space’, can I suggest that you refrain from employing Clicky to explore the link, and go find a quiet corner in which to curl up and cry…
So then, creepy and dangerous toys that were given to children by adults. A couple caught my eye, although all of them sync…
*A shambles… /waits… Clicky, I said shambles… Oh for god’s sake! Get over here and dry your eyes…*
And Hugo…
*Hmm, I wonder if Mike Myers once got a Hugo for Christmas…*
A live bird automata…
*No, Clicky, that’s a man in a bird suit…*
And, syncing with Red Frank’s latest post on MEROVEE…
*Actually, Clicky, No.10 the guillotine toy is sort of Frankish what with it being inspired by the French Revolution… And it was named after a doctor… /grins… Ha! Did you see the the fall…*
Last night I read a post of Cade’s at Sync Miss For Him. One in which he used his formula, and it got me thinking of Helen Keller and how she was taught to write…
In 1886, Keller’s mother, inspired by an account in Charles Dickens’ American Notes of the successful education of another deaf and blind woman, Laura Bridgman, dispatched young Helen, accompanied by her father, to seek out physician J. Julian Chisolm, an eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist in Baltimore, for advice. Chisholm referred the Kellers to Alexander Graham Bell, who was working with deaf children at the time. Bell advised them to contact the Perkins Institute for the Blind, the school where Bridgman had been educated, which was then located in South Boston. Michael Anagnos, the school’s director, asked 20-year-old former student Anne Sullivan, herself visually impaired, to become Keller’s instructor. It was the beginning of a 49-year-long relationship during which Sullivan evolved into Keller’s governess and eventually her companion.
Anne Sullivan arrived at Keller’s house in March 1887, and immediately began to teach Helen to communicate by spelling words into her hand, beginning with “d-o-l-l” for the doll that she had brought Keller as a present. Keller was frustrated, at first, because she did not understand that every object had a word uniquely identifying it. In fact, when Sullivan was trying to teach Keller the word for “mug”, Keller became so frustrated she broke the mug. Keller’s big breakthrough in communication came the next month, when she realized that the motions her teacher was making on the palm of her hand, while running cool water over her other hand, symbolized the idea of “water”; she then nearly exhausted Sullivan demanding the names of all the other familiar objects in her world.
And speak…
To communicate. I have no idea if that was Cade’s intention but that’s what it did for…
*And you, Clicky… /strokes snout…*
I didn’t turn round to answer Thoughtful Man as I was trying not to lose focus. “Taking photos.”
“No, I can see that,” he said with his usual air of exasperation. “What are you photographing and why?”
“Oh, it’s a sweetie present Poppy sent me,” I said. “It’s for a LoL post.”
“What?” he asked with his usual air of confusion. “Da baby leaves us presents but they ain’t so sweet,” he continued in a baby sing-song voice.
Now I was confused so turned round to see him holding our darling dooshund, Poppy. He was obviously addressing her with the cutesy tone. She could obviously smell something tasty, as she was attempting to dig her way out from under his arm to get to me.
“Ah, not Popstar here, Leggy’s girlfriend Poppy from Denmark… she’s sent me some Spunk. Would you like to try some?” I asked innocently.
“No thanks,” he said wrinkling his nose. “Spunk? Have you tried them yet?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I adopted a serious expression. “Well, they’re hard jellies. The fruity flavoured ones are nice but got stuck in my throat. I’m afraid I spat the salty liquorice one out,” I reported.
Thoughtful Man looked at me intently. “So you both spit and swallow Spunk,” he said slowly, “and you’re going to tell everyone this in a post?”
“Yes,” I said with a vigorous nod. “She also sent me some pipes in a handy travel pack.”
“Oh for god’s sake,” he sighed with his usual air of weariness, turning to leave with the pooch. “Ploppy and I are off the bed. Have fun with your sex and smoking whatever…”
I also received an image of a book this morning, from MEROVEE Frank…
And then a tweet caught my attention…
So I opened it and read the mined lines…
*I saw that, Clicky… the Librarian has an understanding of the power of L-Space…*
‘prestigious (adj.)1540s, “practicing illusion or magic, deceptive,” from Latin praestigious “full of tricks,” from praestigiae “juggler’s tricks,” probably altered by dissimilation from praestrigiae, from praestringere “to blind, blindfold, dazzle,” from prae “before” (see pre-) + stringere “to tie or bind” (see strain (v.)). Derogatory until 19c.; meaning “having dazzling influence” is attested from 1913 (see prestige). Related: Prestigiously; prestigiousness.’
I’d seen and listened to ‘The Strain‘ just last night…
*Ah, Clicky… SA Vile… They really went to town on him after he was dead and unable to mount a defence…*
Thoughtful Man and Poppy returned from their afternoon nap. I was glued to my screen, constructing my post.
“Are you still at it?” he asked dumping the dog on my lap before taking his customary place in the Library.
“Hmm? Yes… did you have a good sleep?”
Thoughtful Man yawned and set Clicky to work. “No, the bitch took up most of the bed. Did you see that a train crashed in New York earlier?”
I looked up startled – I’d just been looking at a train video. “No. I’ve been doing this. What happened?” I opened a tab to check the news.
*Hobo Ken… is that like tramp knowledge… Street smarts, Clicky? …/thinks… Have a Song…*
“Wake up!” said voice and hand in perfect synchronicity. The former, gruffly, and the latter shakily.
“Wha…I’m not sleeping,” I stated, less than convincingly. “I’m listening with my eyes shut.”
Thoughtful Man and I were watching ‘X Men Apocalypse‘. Well, he was, I’d fallen asleep.
“You were bloody snoring.” He turned round to look at me. “You and the pup in harmony. It was more entertaining than that pile of crap.”
I shift up into a sitting position, careful not to disturb the snoozing dachshund by my side She looked so peaceful lying under the quilt, with just her head poking out, resting on my pillow. Like a human.
“No good?” I yawned.
Thoughtful Man looked at me. “You’re the one that fell asleep, you tell me,” he drawled.
I lent over and plucked a rollie from the box of home-mades on the bed. “At least you managed to stay awake,” I said lighting it.
“My eyelids did flutter for a bit,” he said turning his attention back to the tv. “But you and Poppy kept me awake. The boys are bathed and in bed, by the way.”
I kissed the top of his head, picked up my iPad and clocked the time. Still earlyish; I started idling through my emails.
“Ooh, ‘Young Ones’!” Thoughtful Man cried out and stopped clicking the remote. He faced me again, this time with screwed up his eyes, “I know this one… first season, last episode. ‘Flood’.”
Even though we’d caught the programme near the end, he still got it. And so we watched the seminal comedy of our youth, and oh how I LOLled…
*Hall Ran? LOL, Clicky… That’s from ‘Love and Monsters‘ first broadcast on Saturday 17th June 2006, watched by 6,66 million viewers…*
Last night I reread… looked over… and then tweeted out an old post of my good friend Legs Eleven…
From the Old Lady of Threadneedle street – the UK has a brand new fiver. It’s still blue 😉 Thoughtful Man got one last night whilst out working, and showed it to me this morning. It’s shiny and can survive a battering…
*What? …/innocent face*
Mrs Reign one side, smoker Winnie on t’other… see-through window…
*Saturn 5… I guess Big Ben does look a bit like a rocket, Clicky…*
‘I PROMISE TO PAY THE BEARER ON DEMAND THE SUM OF FIVE POUNDS’
*/shows empty hands… Clicky, you’re on your own for this one…*
*Knot a waffle man then, Clicky? …/arches eyebrow…*
*Clicky, you realise ‘toast‘ – ‘to brown with heat’ derives from ‘terrain’ – ‘piece of earth’?*
*/rolls eyes…*
*/stretch… Last one… I’ve passed tense now, Clicky… we’ll get this out before the end of Saturday…*
*I suppose with bad comes good and with good comes bad, Clicky… we just have to make the best of it… /shrugs… *
*Really?! Oh for fucks sake, Clicky, couldn’t you get a better Song?*
*Much better… /blows kiss…*
Yes, I know today’s Friday, but I was kinda busy yesterday, Dear Reader. And this post is about yesterday, so if this presents a problem, you know what to Doo…
*That’s the spirit…*
“What are you doing?” Thoughtful Man asked, leaning down to peer at my computer screen.
“Just posting a comment,” I replied, charging Clicky with sending it. “Oh poo! It’s in moderation. Too many links.”
I was on Merovee, Red Frank’s site knot-I-sing another 137 spot. I realise it’s a pointless exercise but I rather think that’s the point.
Thoughtful Man grunted and sat down on his chair. He looked decidedly hot and bothered. It could have just been the heat but I didn’t want to take the chance, so sent Clicky off for a nap.
“I can’t stand this weather. Look at me, I’m dripping,” he said wiping his brow.
“You do look sweaty,” I agreed whilst sitting in my own pool of salty water. “Well, what have we gotta do today?”
Thoughtful Man huffed and sighed. “It’s parents evening at the school tonight. Your sister will be here at five… we’ll need to tidy up, hoover.”
Juju had agreed to sit dog Princess Poppy for us whilst we traipsed up to the school to hear what Year 11 has in store for the boys.
“Fuck! That means I’ll have iron them a couple of extra shirts,” I said, slumping back into my huge, leather Library chair and instantly regretting it. “And the bedding upstairs also needs changing…”
A look of resignation and then something else crossed his face. Thoughtful Man stood up and, holding out his hand, said “We should just go upstairs and do it.”
Ah, so that’s what that other look was.
*Alright, Clicky. Calm down…*
“Juju, can I ask you to do me a favour?” I asked my sister later whilst wrangling with the ironing board. Everything pressed to perfection, all we had to do now was to get going.
She sat in the Library, playing with Clicky. Poppy stood in front of her, ball in mouth, wagging her tail expectantly. “What’s that, babycheeks,” Juju answered absentmindedly. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the dog but carried on regardless.
“When we’re out tonight, could you read something for me? It’s a friend’s novel that I’ve been editing. It’s his first.”
“Is that the one is Scotland?”
“No, that’s Legs. This is Hugo Stone, I think he lives in Wolverhampton or around that area,” I said, squishing her along the seat so I could get to my keyboard. “It’s called ‘Cultish’ and it’s about ‘Satan, the apocalypse and lollipops’.”
Poppy dropped the sodden ball at her feet; Juju picked it up and threw it.”Sounds interesting. Okay,” she said over the sound of skittering nails.
“Be honest. Read as much as you want and then tell me what you think of it when we get back.”
Thoughtful Man appeared with two miserable but smartly dressed 15 year olds in tow. “Get off the fucking computer now. Come on, we’ll be late,” he barked.
Poppy didn’t know whether to follow the sea of retreating legs or get Juju to throw the ball again. The decision was out of her paws, however; we said our goodbyes and set off.
*I think I call you ‘a pain in the arse’, Clicky… No wonder Dumey doesn’t put up a fight over you… Can I get on with it now?*
Two hours later and we were nearly home. The auditorium had been packed, sweltering and noisy, the boys’ grades from the exams at the end of year 10, disappointing, and the only teacher available to meet with us was the ICT teacher, Mr Hall, and he’d only started there that week. He did have a certain glow but it was more likely due to the excessive heat than any honeymoon period. The only thing of interest was a poster I’d seen outside the school library.
“I told you it would be a waste of time,” Kit Kat informed us from the back of the taxi via the intercom.
“No. Now I know you need to pull your finger out,” Thoughtful Man replied. His eyes shifted in the rear view mirror, fixing on Loopy. “And you.”
“I explained about maths…” Loops started to explain again, before catching his father’s reflected squint and deciding to shut up.
I tried to change the subject. Sort of. “What was that teacher going on about with PPE?” I asked out loud. “The Polish one, Head of Maths, she kept saying it but I didn’t catch what it meant. It doesn’t involve hard hats, then?” I quipped, lightening the mood, I hoped.
“No,” Thoughtful Man said as he turned the Bonnermobile into our drive and pulled up. “Stands for Pre Public Examination, I think. It’s their Mocks.”
We unbuckled and got out of the van. Juju appeared on our doorstep, Poppy in arms.
“That book you asked me to read,” she said as Poppy strained to give us a welcome home lick. “Filth. Utter filth,” she said sternly.
Time stopped. All five of us stood motionless, the only things moving were my eyeballs and our demented dog’s struggles. When I spoke, my lips, cheeks and tongue felt like they were moving in slow motion.”Didn’t you like it?”
“I didn’t say that,” Juju replied, breaking into a smile. “It’s really good but it’s utter filth.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and took Poppy from her. “Oh good. So you liked it?”
Juju waited for Thoughtful Man and boys to move out of earshot. “Yeah,” she confided sotto voce. “And I was wondering if I could, er, take it home with me so I can, you know, finish it?”
*What? …/cocks head… Oh… /furrows brow… My Merovee comment in moderation? I’d forgotten about that, Clicky… 137 ART…*
*Blue doors and flight… Give us a Song, Clicky…*
*Clicky, no! Porriño isn’t Spanglish for ‘it’s pissing down’… besides, it sounds much more Italian… But that’s not the point. It’s uncalled for, Clicky, people died…*
*Well, Red Frank did thank everyone for who’d triggered an idea in him and he’s into Franglish… perhaps you were already in that frame of mind, Blue Frank‘s been musing on language…*
*That’s a bike with stabilizers, not a trike… Hang on, is that woman smoking near her child? Fuck! The Shining could be banned… /nibbles nail… They won’t be happy until they’ve turned us all into not-sees…*
*Ah… Apollo rose… Rose, the colour of O Porriño’s famous granite…*
*Whoa! Way to derail a train of thought, Clicky… Or did you? /breathes in deeply… I’m gonna have to go and have a think about this. Give Dear Reader a Song… /wanders off muttering…*
Library of Libraries 