Halo! WE’s A Coming… And WE Are Smoking!

So lights up my current favourite theory is that God, who made everything, apparently, is a big fan of cosplay…

Literally “Costume Play.” Dressing up and pretending to be a fictional character (usually a sci-fi, comic book, or anime character).

There are anime cosplay conventions around the world.

by Mario Rogic January 15, 2003

15th of January was Mum’s birthday. On that date in 2003 she turned 58. She’s dead now; now I’m the elder mother in the family.

costume (n.) 1715, “style of dress,” an art term, from French costume (17c.), from Italian costume “fashion, habit,” from Latin consuetudinem (nominative consuetudo) “custom, habit, usage.” Essentially the same word as custom but arriving by a different etymology. From “customary clothes of the particular period in which the scene is laid,” meaning broadened by 1818 to “any defined mode of dress.” Costume jewelry is first attested 1933.

OMG, Clicky! How can you be bored with language? And English is the language of angles. Let’s carry on, shall we? If you can be bothered to, Click.

custom (n.) c. 1200, “habitual practice,” from Old French costume “custom, habit, practice; clothes, dress” (12c., Modern French coutume), from Vulgar Latin *consuetumen, from Latin consuetudinem (nominative consuetudo) “habit, usage, way, practice, tradition, familiarity,” from consuetus, past participle of consuescere “accustom,” from com-, intensive prefix (see com-), + suescere “become used to, accustom oneself,” related to sui, genitive of suus “oneself,” from PIE *swe- “oneself” (see idiom). Replaced Old English þeaw. Sense of a “regular” toll or tax on goods is early 14c. The native word here is toll.

Click. Tell me about it… 😉

play (v.)Old English plegan, plegian“move rapidly, occupy or busy oneself, exercise; frolic; make sport of, mock; perform music,” from West Germanic *plegan “occupy oneself about” (cognates: Old Saxon plegan “vouch for, take charge of,” Old Frisian plega “tend to,” Middle Dutch pleyen “to rejoice, be glad,” German pflegen “take care of, cultivate”), from PIE root *dlegh-“to engage oneself,” forming words in Celtic, Germanic, Slavic, and possibly Latin.

Meaning “to take part in a game” is from c. 1200. Opposed to work (v.) since late 14c. Related: Played; playing. To play up “emphasize” is from 1909; to play down “minimize” is from 1930; to play along“cooperate” is from 1929. To play with oneself “masturbate” is from 1896; play for keeps is from 1861, originally of marbles or other children’s games with tokens. To play second fiddle in the figurative sense is from 1809 (“Gil Blas”). To play into the hands (of someone) is from 1705. To play the _______ card is attested from 1886; to play fair is from mid-15c. To play (something) safe is from 1911; to play favorites is attested from 1902. For play the field see field (n.).

Please, Clicky, for the love of god, no..!!

Phew! That could have been sooo much worse…

flicks lighter At the beginning of the month, 3rd October to be exact, I wrote an email to MJ, my online friend who lives in Tennessee, US of A:

Mary Jo, I like the title, I want to use it for a post at the LoL – I will quote some of this email, just so’s you know 😉 It’s how WE get to write the script 😉 …Vik’s ‘crack the code’ *shakes head*. And it’s all true – this is an after thought, another level… Clicky!

Now MJ, what do you and Charlie have cooked up, costume-wise for this Halloween? The boys did costumes once for a Halloween party that some woman at work threw. It was horrendous. The less said, the better. If I wrote a post about it for the LoL, it would be called ‘A Freakishly Boring Night Out’.

We don’t do Halloween, so wishing to live vicariously… MJ, you are my only hope!

I love your Charlie photo updates – he’s a gorgeous child and you are a gorgeous mum. You’re just the sort of mum I never was to my boys. I made a decision, you see, to treat them exactly the same. Very noble of me 😉

As it happens, they are complete opposites to each other and have very different interests, and to split my time and energy in half… no, there’s Steve and WORK (a huge amount of my time is spent there)… to give equally, I just let them get on with their own play. Mostly I did homework with them or painting. Costumes were for school trips & photos and mostly shop bought. Cheap and cheerful and the boys weren’t really that interested in them anyway. Now if it was Star Wars school trips…

Also, Halloween is not that big of deal in the UK and the night itself is celebrated more by adult- kids than children-children. Well, where I live anyway. And Steve will tell me all about that when he gets home from driving them about that night 😉

So spill, I want to enjoy knowing what I didn’t get or choose for in my life… a proper Mother and Child run up to Halloween… 😉

deep draw A nice woman, MJ, she replied straightaway. Now how long would it have taken, to correspond with your overseas girlfriend, in days of yawn ?

Roobee! So good to hear from you! About to run some errands so this won’t be as long as it should be. Charlie is going to be

and I’m going to be

But we probably won’t look just like that. We will probably look more like

😀 😀 😀 😀

It doesn’t mean we aren’t “super” though!

Oh Clicky! You shouldn’t hide stuff behind MJ’s illustrations. I know you do it to mine, but did you ask her? …tumbleweed… No, I didn’t think so tut

Then flick, flick, shakes flick then today, 30th October, I arrive at my place of work, with a Song playing in my head, to find it’s Dress Down Friday. Goo goo g’joob I’d forgotten… nobody needs to see me in my jimjams… except maybe for me and I really don’t think that’s what Management intended.

I took off my hat and coat, fired up my PC (no resemblance to The Flash in that piece of hardware, believe me) and ventured into the kitchen to make myself a cuppa joe.

Now I must tell you, we’re getting new toilets at work, so all kinds of doors that are normally held open have been allowed to close. To cut down on the noise and the dust, from the men at work.

On returning to my desk I had to turn the handle of a door that I never normally have to touch. As I pushed it open, more concerned with whether I’d forgotten to add sugar (again), I was surprised by the looming presence of another, on the other stood of the door. I look up and to my utter astonishment, there stood… MJ!

Okay not Tennessee MJ, Clicky, but a woman who looked so like her I just stood there staring…

I told you, Click, I’d forgotten it was Dress Down Friday rolls eyes

Exhales plume Who’d of thought? I had the title of this post weeks ago; I had no idea what kind of shambles it would make. The whole idea of ‘Selfie Sounds Like Sophie’ on Sync Miss For Him was to develop a long exposure selfie of the goddess, in an ‘as below, so above’ amateur experiment.

On Merovee, the site of MJ/Isis’ love Frank/Osiris, ‘WE’ is major meme. Shambles are magical things and I’d managed to conjure a goddess 😉

In honour of that fact, I decided to do something I’ve never actually done before, unless you count capturing the odd stray hand or foot in the odd photos I taken. I took my very first selfie. And I took it in what our office new ladies loos is going to look like, courtesy of the 2nd floor, which has already been renovated…

LOL! A ‘now you see me, now you don’t’ sort of thing, Click? Blimey that’s a grey tongue – must be all the smoking. Or it could be that the manufacturers have missed a trick 😉 Maybe I should tell them…

Why? Y knot, Clicky? ‘Cos play’s the thing wink

Have a happy Halloween everybody and… Do, please Doo have a Song 😉

stubs out butt

Wednesday Morning Music Works

I have been doing other things. Different things. So I haven’t visited the LoL much in recent days…

Okay then, Clicky, over a week.

And I confess my lack of shambling was playing on my mind when I jumped into Thoughtful Man’s van for the journey to work this morning. This is the route we normally take…

We like to go via the seafront because it’s a much pleasanter drive than negotiating the traffic and barmy light system through the centre of town. The accompanying music was selected randomly by Thoughful Man, from a CD he’d made himself for the previous weekend’s shifts.

“Thank fuck!” I thought, as he started pressing buttons. Local radio is utterly banal, full of unreasonably chirpy presenters, repetitive traffic updates and government sponsored ads intent on telling us how we should live.

Point A – Song No.1: Rock DJ by Robbie Williams

Shambles

1. (Informal) a state of total disorder. “my career was in a shambles“

2. a butcher’s slaughterhouse (archaic except in place names): “the shambles where the animals were slaughtered”

3. A shamble (also called a shambles) is a handmade device used by witches to detect or amplify magic. It can even be used for protection or to send a spell.

Discworld, Clicky, yes and its inhabitants riding it. I hadn’t talked to him about those thoughts at all – how did he know?

“I’ll post a shambles tonight.” I decided, as I bobbed my head in time to the music. But where? Here, at the LoL, or on Sync Miss For Him?

Point B – Song No.2: The Look of Love by ABC

Look of Love… Library of Libraries… LOL. I had my answer 😉 Not only that, but Hugo brought up Lexicon on the latest Merovee post, just a few hours earlier…

Lexi tells her parents she’s wise to the con and the ABC album housing the song. The journey had been smooth and I enjoyed singing along. That’s probably why Thoughtful Man decided the dial should be spun.

Point C – Song No.3: You Spin Me Round by Dead or Alive

Cross, Clicky? Not at Thoughtful Man; he has an aversion to listening to a song all the way through. I don’t think it’s just my singing 😉 But lots of things do make me cross these days.

Which brings us to…

Point D – Song No.4 – Something About You by Level 42

You betcha, Clicky! We were still Kinging it as we pulled up outside Point E 😀

Heigh Ho Clicky! Have a Song…

Ashes to… Blushes

Mum came back today…

And Click… have a Song… 😉

The Sons Have Got Her Hat On…

It fell out of the wardrobe, whilst we were looking for something else.

My wedding Hat, Clicky. Just look at the state of it…

It didn’t go back into the wardrobe straightaway, oh no… Loopy Lou thought he might straighten it out for me…

He’s such a contented child, Click…

Then Kit-Kat-Paddy-Whack got hold of it…

Who knows, Clicky. Who knows…

Now I come to think it it, the song at No.1 when Thought Man and I got married was…

Indeed, Clicky, indeed 😉

Tales of the Logistician’s Logistician: The Joy of Abseiling

At the start of the 21^st century the company I work for decided to participate in a ‘Business Team Challenge’ competition being held in the Brecon Beacons. There were changes in personnel right up until the day before the team set off for Wales, due to ‘injuries’ and ‘work pressures’. Nevertheless, the final line up contained a Big Boss, a Medium-sized Boss, a Little Boss and two lowly assistants, one of which was me. A delicate balance of bosses and staff had been achieved – three men and two women accordingly.

My job throughout was to ‘make it happen’, which in practice meant completing entry forms, booking accommodation, arrange transportation and triple-check timings, sourcing and purchase appropriate (matching) clothing, footwear, kit and equipment. And all the while, the personnel (and vital statistics) of the team kept changing.

I had to be there, of course, because I’d organised the team. But in truth, not being of an outdoorsy persuasion, I couldn’t think of a worse way to spend my weekend: it was bound to rain, I had never had to use a map and compass before and it was in Wales, for goodness sake! Wasn’t that bad enough?. I had to put my foot down somewhere along the line, and my fear of heights gave me the perfect opportunity; I said that I did not want to abseil. In turn I was promised I wouldn’t have to.

It was all going so well until the first afternoon when Medium-sized Boss twisted his ankle on a slippery slope, during a torrential downpour.

“There is no one else; you’ll have to do it”, I was told by Big Boss as he trotted on ahead, leaving me to trudge behind him to the edge of a chasm. I didn’t answer, I couldn’t; it’s difficult to speak coherently when your mouth is devoid of spit.

Three of us were to take the plunge for the honour of our company. Medium-sized Boss sat at the base of the drop, somewhere, cradling his ankle and smoking a cigarette, along with Little Boss, who had helped him hobble into position. It was difficult to see exactly where they were positioned as my eyes had suddenly gone all blurry. Horror filled me, as the crowd of lemmings gradually thinned at the top of the drop.

Then there were three… Big Boss disappeared over the edge… two… Admin Girl followed… one…. The few remaining eyes on my level turned in my direction.

“I can’t do it…”I repeated like a scratched record, as I was gently coaxed and manoeuvred into position, clips clicked into place and a fat rope placed in my hands. The moment the soles of my walking boots started to shift from horizontal to vertical, I completely froze.

Except for my eyes – they raced upwards, away from certain death. Realising there was no escape, they slowly rolled back down to meet the gaze of the woman holding my rope. “You can do it”, she said gently, pushing me over the edge.

The journey down was far too short. In fact it was a complete blast!

“Can I do it again?” I squealed with delight, hopping from foot to foot, whilst Big Boss struggled to unhook me.

“No, we’ve got a hike to the next task. Well done.” And off he went.

Little and Medium-sized Boss, though, both hugged me tight and told me how brilliant I’d been to do it. Medium-sized Boss carried on hugging and thanking me for helping him out… right up until the moment I realised we’d covered half the distance to the next stage of the competition.

He let me go and then the laughter started. But the loudest laugh came from me.

Raiders of the Lost Art

John Ward wrote an excellent article at The Slog today…

‘The ineffectiveness of Raid ‘ONE-SHOT’ against house flies looks like the result of two things: alarmist medical research about fly sprays; and a less than honest marketing policy by SC Johnson, the producers of the brand. The Slog investigates, and concludes we may have proliferated the house fly population by the use of a spectacular own-goal.’

Oh Clicky, my comment is still in moderation from earlier this morning…

‘Because, John, because smoking kills everyone; everybody knows that! So why look for anything else?

Here’s a complete nut on the subject of tobacco smoke…

http://somuchfabric.blogspot.co.uk/2009/11/cigarette-smoke.html

Tobacco bans and it’s ever so useful Template, utilised to eliminate the practice of smoking tobacco throughout in the world. was, IMHO, the thin end of the wedge…

Welcome to the thick end…

“But… but… but…”

Nice choice of pix, Click, here have a Song…

I’ve asked for it to be released; I have no idea why it’s still trapped in moderation, Clicky…

Hardly, Click and, to be honest, I thought an indie would be better than that…

Well, quite!

Just One Click!

And Doo have a Song… 😉

Oh Boe! Dog Sitting Day: A Clicky-Led Shamble

Okay Clicky, you’re fidgeting. I know it’s strange having to take a Tuesday off just for dog sitting but what’s on your mind? You can tell Roobee…

Uh-huh… we watched that episode last night together… Hark! That was a clever twist, Capt Jack is the Face of Boe… 😉

Heh! I hope you’ve got a whole wardrobe full of coats, my friend, ‘cos I’m in punny mood this morning… Was it the mention of vanity that’s piquing at your brain?

Abel masc. proper name, in Old Testament, second son of Adam and Eve, from Hebrew Hebhel, literally “breath,” also “vanity.”

Abel? He was the meat eater, wasn’t he? The other one was the Veggie…

Oh I quite agree, Clicky, these machine politicians are quite ugly in their zeal to transform the world into their own image…

vanity (n.)c. 1200, “that which is vain, futile, or worthless,” from Old French vanite “self-conceit; futility; lack of resolve” (12c.), from Latin vanitatem (nominative vanitas) “emptiness, aimlessness; falsity,” figuratively “vainglory, foolish pride,” from vanus “empty, vain, idle” (see vain). Meaning “self-conceited” in English is attested from mid-14c. Vanity table is attested from 1936. Vanity Fair is from “Pilgrim’s Progress” (1678).

Idle? There’s a man who has a theory about that 😉 He wrote me an email…

“Thanks for leaving a link to Idle Theory. It is indeed “very Benthamesque”. But I replaced the greatest happiness for the greatest number with the greatest idleness for the greatest number. Idleness is (in principle) a measurable quantity, while happiness is not. I suppose I think of ‘happiness’ as being ‘happen-ness’ or ‘what happens’, and it’s only in their idle time that people are open to anything ‘happening’ in a ‘happy’ way. The rest of the time they’re too busy doing something more or less completely determined. Something like that, anyway.”

So thoughtful of him to reply and elucidate… you could have chosen a better image though, Click, those boots look like they could do with a clean…

Oh this is about that tweet we clicked smirk* on this morning…*

I spent a lot of time shambling K2 last year, Clicky… it was before I realised you even existed 😉

Ha! Clicky, The first British film idol that pops up in that series of films is CAINE…

idol (n.)mid-13c., “image of a deity as an object of (pagan) worship,” from Old French idole “idol, graven image, pagan god,” from Late Latin idolum “image (mental or physical), form,” used in Church Latin for “false god,” from Greek eidolon “appearance, reflection in water or a mirror,” later “mental image, apparition, phantom,” also “material image, statue,” from eidos “form” (see -oid). Figurative sense of “something idolized” is first recorded 1560s (in Middle English the figurative sense was “someone who is false or untrustworthy”). Meaning “a person so adored” is from 1590s.

Steady on now, Clicky, I’m pretty sure any Shadow Pharming Minister, would be appalled at that suggestion…

***Oh there’s no talking to you today rolls eyes … Have a Song…***

The Post I Forgot to Name

So I thought I’d re-watch last week’s episode of Doctor Who, before watching tonight’s second half…

That’s the prologue, Clicky. I don’t have time to watch the Prologue… ‘The Witch’s Familiar’ starts in a couple of hours and shambles can take ages to prepare… Oh, you’ve put in all the links…Cheers, Click!

This is a synchromystic shamble so is probably not going to make much sense to most people, but hear goes 😉

The previous season of Doctor Who was so syncy. We spent hours and hours knot-eye-sing the syncs on Merovee last year. So this new season was much anticipated. However, even I was surprised that the opening shot was of smoke…

And there was a plane firing lasers…

A war.

People do have their heads in the clouds when it comes to the ‘denormalisation‘ of smokers, Click… the mandated hatred has WHOly religious overtones… now, can I get on, time is clicking on titters…

A child (‘Save the Boy’ theme from ‘The Zero Theorem’) runs away through the smoke, lost and is made to stop by a black angel…

Who is promptly grabbed and pulled into a black hole…

Hand mines …

Lost, but what’s this…

Ah, vaping the great alternative to smoking, Click 😉

The boy picks it up…

Clicky, 50 is L which is Lever and how many feet and hands in that image?

Not a Library then, Clicky, Lol… Highlighting a mix and a muddle (how shambolic 😉 with technology. That’s pure Hugo…

guffaw Well done Click knot-eye-sing the 15 (IS) year program… you’re so sneaky Clicky hiding stuff like that… but no one get’s it you know..

Well D’Uh! I’ve been hanging around with you for like…ever 😉 Please Click, it’s… twenty to fucking twelve!!! OMG! I missed the show. Stop messing about now, post the images and no hiding stuff. Honestly, who in their right mind chooses a flippin’ chatty dolphin as an assistant…

Click, I saw what you did there squint* Stop it!*

That’s enough for now. I’ve got a date with iPlayer. Damn it, I haven’t even got to the syncs with ‘Essex’ and ‘Dude!’

Undoubtedly Clicky, now have a Song…

Wales with Laughter

“Have you seen this?” Thoughtful Man handed a small fat book. Something had tickled him; there were tears in his eyes.

“‘Passport to the European Union’? Where did you get this?” I turned the cover to read ‘This is not a travel document!’. I felt the ‘Duh!’ on my lips.

Thoughtful Man grabbed it back, eager to get me to the right place. “It’s Kit’s. He was given it at Junior school. I found it in the drawer. Dated 2012, so probably for the Olympics.” He thumbed through the pages. “Look, start here at the UK and read the famous people listed.”

“David Beckham, Paul McCartney and William Shakespeare. Okay?” I looked up expectantly.

“There are separate entries for England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales, too. England’s next.” He flipped the page.

I could see the amusement on Thoughtful Man’s face but couldn’t figure out the reason. “Newton, Rowling and Foster. Scientist, author and architect. That’s a good mix. What’s so funny?”

He winked. “Now Scotland.”

I turned the page.

“Wait.” He hugged the book to his chest and skipped a page. “Now Northern Ireland,” he said, handing the book back to me.

His obvious mirth was infectious and I started smiling though I didn’t really know why. “Now,” he intoned gravely, “guess which famous people they listed for Wales.”

“Dunno. Dylan Thomas. Richard Burton. Bertrand Russell?” My eyes skipped down to the page.

“Fireman Sam!” Thoughtful Man could contain the laughter no more and out it bellowed. “Only Fireman Fucking Sam.”

“Only Huw Fucking Edwards! Double whammy!” I could feel the crow’s feet dig into the plumpness of my cheeks, drawing them up tight to make room for the grin that engulfed the the lower half of my face.

“If I were Welsh, I’d be furious. Fireman Sam?” Thoughtful Man shook his head. “Ha. I wonder who they listed for Germany.” He wandered off, book in hand.

Oh hello, Clicky, I forgot you were there. Have a Song…