And I was immeasurably impressed by your exquisite positioning of an apostrophe or inverted comma or whatever the proper term is before 'round' in ...go 'round... I bow to you as the Master of Pedants and the English pedant's English pedant. I've been discovering new aspects to my preservative instincts recently e.g. relating to the Full English Breakfast. Apparently only 1% of British people still eat them, so this has become almost a historic duty. And I've discovered that the aesthetic principles guiding my preferences in wristwatches actually come from Mr.Micawberish gold pocket watches of 100+ish years ago. My idea of an English Breakfast actually comes from the 'breakfast scene' in Tarzan (the movie). In spite of numerous excursions to the Golden Isle, I've never actually attended one. The closest I came was breakfast at the London JW Maryrot, which was actually quite rewarding and, since it lasted 'till (there's another of those damn 'postrophe thingies) almost lunch, the next 'meal' was Tea. That sounds like a very 'proper' version which I've yet to experience. Normally I have to settle for the lardy middle-section (Hey! That reminds me of me) in a 'greasy spoon' caff. But apparently, it's that core element that has died out for 99% of people. (Like dancing 'round the maypole and suchlike.) It probably stems from not being able to say, Merry Go Around without thinking of Mary and how she used to 'go around' or somesuch,... That reminds me... I thought I'd go and see The DaVinci Code film so as to get an instant version that would keep me informed of what all the fuss was about while also not entailing me having to read the books. ...but I suspect you in Der Vaterland(t?) call them something entirely different like, go-round-abouts and post odd little red squared-circle-with-lion-rampant signs on them. In search of the entomology I stumbled across (or something) rounceval: a great bouncing woman (obsolete... why?... who let that die?...) Unless I dreamed it, where have I seen this: odd little red squared-circle-with-lion-rampant signs on them. And I went and bought these new (to me) shoes that were originally twice the price of my old ones but they look 'modern' unlike the black brogues or oxfords I've worn for years. And I'm struggling to cope with the imminent prospect of having to wear them when my old ones explode. But at least I know my hair is OK. Because when it's like it is at the moment, apparently I bear an uncanny resemblance to my mother's father as he was 50 years ago. See? That's why I love about talking to you. We can go from pocket watches to shoes without ever having to open a brolly or go scratching about for some magic transportation formula.
Well, the first time I was in hospital, one delusion I had was that I was there as some kind of tester because, unlike the bewildered kids in charge, I was older and temperamentally antiquarian and so could still tell 'the real' from 'the fake'. And now I'm not so sure it was a delusion. And I've discovered that I quite like the 'intimidatory' effect I imagine of plonking 'the real' down in the middle of 'the fake'. So already being built out of The Full English Breakfast, I like the idea of accessorizing that with compatible shoes, watch, hair and apostrophes etc. Speaking of which, I still keep my two Fox-_frame_d brollys and my Christies bowler (which are well over voting-age). When I was pretending to be (something-or-other), I went off to work every day wearing my bowler, walking with my first (recovered 3 times and still dependable) brolly, and wearing fashionable dark sunglasses. Being the polite SOB that I am, I would always hesitate a few steps back from an elevator (women and children first), but 90% of the time two people would step forward and hold the door for me. It always gave me a strange urge to play the piano for them. New Shoes!! Oh, prithee, speak thee not such words! I have a pair of 'loafers' that I bought in Harrods sometime in 1987 that have been re-soled ~9 times. Good God or someone. Those have to be proper. There wouldn't be anything left of the uppers of mine to re-sole after about two years. (I walk for 3-5 hours a day most days of the week). This owner of a posh shoe shop got expansive one time and showed me this pair of horse-leather brogues for about $750 but said that because shoes soak up a hideous amount of water, ideally, one should alternate between two pairs. Oh, indeed they ARE. The last resole must have been done by a Chinese foot-fetishist because it left them nearly too tight to wear. Perhaps I'll take them for a paddle in a puddle.
! You walk on the uppers? I once had a pair of English shoes with (I'm not making this up) hand-sewn leather soles . Well, the second time I wore them to work, it was raining and I got off the bus and down the stairs to the escalator before which was a bit of a puddle. Mind you, I was young (~47) then and daily skateboard practice had me in tip-top landing condition, so when the hand-sewn leather soles took off (with me attached) and (we) arrived 9 or 10 stairs down (via air travel) it only amazed the two women I sailed past. However, it was enough of a 'surprise trip' to keep me on Vibram (TM) soles forever. I'd say (from the perspective of a few hundred-thousand-miles of Shoe Experience) that the only time they absorb 'a hideous amount of water' is when you use them as swim-fins. Of course, he may have meant that they did that when they were still part of the horse... I'm left wondering if you have as many Korean Lady Barberesses who No Hablo Engles over there as we do? The Standard Menu here calls for one to point to some styling poster on the wall and say, Make like that!
There seem to be barely any Koreans over here. Our immigrants are mostly either from the old Empire (Afro-Carribean, Bangladeshi, Pakistani or Indian) or from Eastern bit of the European Community - especially Poland. With a few war-torn place people here and there (like Somalis). The only non-English person I've ever had cutting my hair was Italian. We have quite a few Italians around Evesham that settled here after WWII. I'll bring some over when the Next Major Discount Airline (TM) appears and offers free freight with the round-trip fare. Apparently they are 'born to the vocation', as the Catholics say.
I used to have a book of steam-twain photos called 'Twixt' Hatton and Harbury. And bird-spotters are called 'twitchers' over here (as per anoraksia nervosa )
I took the scow for service this morning and walked about in the giant lot full of giant transportation devices while waiting. There was some odd non-starlingish bird on the corner of one of the buildings, so I stopped to chat with (it). It was looking all around the sky and uttering very assymetric (un-birdish) phrases and opening its wings every few paragraphs. I thought (since it didn't seem to want to engage in humanish comversation) that perhaps it was some space alien in disguise.
At times, when I'm mad, most sentient beings are being 'overshadowed' by one or other of the 'great forces in contention'. (A bit like this phrase my 'spiritualist' mate of years ago had about 'God' which I don't know where he got it from - approx. - I have no hands but your hands; no eyes but your eyes. )
Now why doesn't that happen when *I'm* mad? All I can manage at those times is some 'under the breath' wheeze like, You complete fucking idiot which soon sails away (perhaps to Denmark, as a cartoon). What was nerve-wracking was that every so often it would fly out of sight at tremendous speed (I really didn't think it could fly) and then whiz back and continue as though it hadn't done that at all. Unfortunately, the scow was finished before we could decide on a proper diplomatic protocol.
I used to be a nervous anorak as well but I don't know Johny Foreigner's birds since they didn't fit in with 'the set' - although now I find that with birds wandering all over the place, 'the set' was a bit more of a fiction than I had supposed when I was ten. Yes. I vaguely remember some that have (since?) gone elsewhere and some new ones that don't seem to have much sense of 'polite company' have arrived, so they must have come from 'somewhere else'. But then I also recall when chicken tasted like chicken and didn't smell like a burning henhouse when roasted... Between Larry and Stumper, that'd be about the same thing... I've put $10 on Barcelona making it to the Final Four, and another $10 on Ronaldinho not scoring at all there. I'm not sure Messi is going to hold up, either, but then I do love WC surprises and betting against myself... BTW, *I* use it like a kind of beacon on a hill or a distant star - which is more like an indeterminate grey fog of meaninglessness or silence and indifference signifying nothing. Then I know that 'the other direction' is the one in which to 'run like buggery'. was rather nice...
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