Friday, January 25, 2013

Happy Burns Night


My haggis. With neeps and tatties (of course).

Enjoy!

Haggis with neeps and tatties and whisky for Burns NightHaggis with neeps and tatties and whisky for Burns NightHaggis with neeps and tatties and whisky for Burns Night



Thursday, January 24, 2013

Underground Breath

At the moment I'm finding the public transport stench of exotic food just a bit too overpowering.

The morning, lunch-time and evening breath (and all the hours in-between) of Londoners is becoming a little too much.

Me? I brush, floss, gargle and breathe on the underground with consideration.

Please do the same.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

A Dusting Of Snow



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Still Falling

I'm not back. I mean, not as a dedicated blogger.

But I like to diary my thoughts still. All these personal references - always for me - but delighted if the obscurity filtered out.

After all, who else has ever enjoyed a skinnythick shake? Even if they do put horse meat in their burgers...

Last night (past 2) I had the clearest of dreams that, when freshly woken, I noted should be relayed to mon C.

Then I forgot, when I woke up again. All I remembered was that I woke up with clarity that I must relay the technicolor dream to Xfe.

Last night I dreamt
That somebody loved me
No hope, no harm
Just another false alarm

Last night I felt

Real arms around me
No hope, no harm
Just another false alarm
So, while it is still fresh - it's I think my first reporting of another dream theme. The Aberdeen London dichotomy (just search it I'm very confident the posts are there) rarely appears these days. I love our house here.I love my flat here. But, still, from time to time...

So the dream and it's sometime source/s?

I have a lover. But it is not Xfe. Sometimes it is before he that is mon C - Simon or Ben. In those dreams I wake up in happy history then realise I'm confused. I'm sad because I know that I'm not with he or he.

But as the clarity of consciousness  lifts the dream fug I wrap the duvet around me, safe in the comfort of knowing - and then working out who - I have someone after them.

Last night I felt South America. A man. A masculine man. Hairy below and down, though only lightly hairy above.

He pleasured me physically in all the ways I enjoy.

He was dark, tanned, not trimmed.

I woke up and felt he was mine. Just for that instant.

Then I worked out I didn't know him, I was with Xfe.

This morning I realised I'd been reading about the Chicken Fried Kentucky that is Cristina Elisabet Fernández de Kirchner, commonly (emphasis added) known as Cristina Kirchner or CFK, is the 55th and current President of Argentina and the widow of former President Néstor Kirchner. Wikipedia.

Hmm. Common. She might think she wants war, but really she wants plastic surgery. 

So, no Gaucho on his way from BA or Rio for me.

Well, not until tonight's dream mash....

ps - mon C is currently in China, not here in my arms 

pps - why else would I be bloggoing these thoughts?


Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Another God

This industrial god is our latest artwork. From Glasgow.




Desperate? A desperate messiah or a messiah desperate.

Yes, it is.

Thanks to another Scottish artist (of course).

Sunday, January 13, 2013

A Sense Of January

The morning golden-blue sky has become a cold-haze fog.

And here we are again. The horrible start of the year that makes January desolate, unwanted.

Xfe is away in China (as he always seems to be this time of year).

I got up early this morning. Did the things around the house I needed to.

Now it is time for DVD and - what else for 2013 - Dr Who. It is after all 50 years old on November 23.

This morning I dropped off stuff at the local charity shop and found the 1997 annual - for 70p - in spanking good condition.


11 Doctors, 11 months. Happy birthday.

(gosh 1977 - 10 years old - I think those were carefree days).

Friday, January 11, 2013

FICTION - I'm a Jimmy Savile victim

"A degree of caution, neither justified nor required...."



What worries me is that not only wasn't I believed at the time, but that it isn't happening now? It is.

That Savile was the *most* prolific offender? No - he was the most prolific DISCOVERED offender.

How naive. It is going on now? Say it isn't and history will prove you wrong I am so confident.

Savile - a watershed? Hardly - I suggest it's the norm (how often, frequently does this abuse occur)?

Adults abuse children naturally? Fact?

Fact. Just look how common it is.

What should we do now about those most likely to be offenders in the same position - that is those who are suspected but we dare not name for worry of being sued, maligned - accused of being an internet troll?

The most paedophile.

Can I give you my list now? If only to suggest who I feel about now, in the same way Jim Fixed It for me?


Name and shame? Give us an assurance of immunity to alert to those who should be notified.

So, give me guidance. Savile was so obvioulsy red alert. 

As for those who currently have the same creepiness as Savile - should we wait until their offences are discovered, or alert to them now and strike pre-emptively? 



Sunday, January 06, 2013

T.C. & Honeybear



He said please don't take him
'Cause I love him
He's my joy and my life


For my love I won't hesitate
I will give him all that his heart can take
And I'll trust him fearlessly
I want him to be free


It was Andrew Haigh's Weekend that turned me on to this. Immediately I heard it, it sounded like I knew it from my childhood. But that couldn't have been for John Grant's melancholic love song didn't exist then. 

So, it must be something that resonates with me. Bittersweet love always does. And it has something of the Peter Paul & Mary Puff about it, which does take me back to childhood.

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