This town is 'comin like a ghost town.

Weird at work today. Ralph was the only person in before me whereas I arrive relatively late. It was news to me, but apparently we're meant to have office cover from seven. Fancy that.

Anyway, the weekend. Everyone buggered off. It was just James and myself. Horrified at the prospect of this, I hastily suggested that we do the rail ale trail, especially as this was pretty much the last weekend that such a thing was possible. Thus it was that we broke into Rob's room (beg pardon) to give a solid timetable-based foundation to said crazy scheme. And to mess up his instant-messaging affairs.

It was a bit last-minute, so we texted Lisa and Zosia as soon as. They were out clubbing or some such nonsense, so they couldn't respond. But we kindly woke them up in the morning. Bearing this in mind, they were remarkably obliging, the only provison being that we got a later train, which wasn't ideal, but very accpetable, given the circumstances. For some reason James thought we should ask Lisa's permission before asking Amy (well, it was something to do with marginally upping the cost) but we like Amy and probably would have anyway.

Always difficult to blog pubbage. Went straight out to Barnstaple past a very interesting looking cheese shop. We talked crap in some pubs, jumped over some walls, looked at some cows, played skittles, juggled skittles, lost our leaflets (which were out of date anyway) and drank merely six pints (those who were drinking anyway). I think that'll have to do. Oh, and Amy jumped in puddles. I forget what we did when we got back, but I expect it involved going to bed too late.

Sunday morning. Now... Sunday morning, for reasons which elude me... seemed more wobbly than most Sunday mornings do. I skipped breakfast. Mass was Zosia's mass. That is what liturgy means you see. And we sung the Magnificat in place of a Psalm. I thought my guitar playing was well dodgy, but people disagreed, which I suppose they're entitled to.

It was Zosia's last mass. By this it is meant that it was Zosia's last mass at the chaplaincy. By this, of course, is meant that it was Zosia's last Sunday mass at the chaplaincy. This means that it was Zosia's last Sunday mass at the chaplaincy, at least until she visits in fresher's week. [cough.]

Now, for reasons which, as is their wont, escape me, though it is Zosia who is leaving, I received a lovely present from her, and, as yet, have no lovely present of equivalent significance to give her. Hmm. Anyway, it was The Little Prince, of whihc I know I have seen a copy many times on my parents' bookshelf, but never read, 'cos it looks rubbish. It is not rubbish. Thank you again Zosia. By the way, I must say that the idea of your The Little Prince Returns or whatever it was called, seems rather to undermine the grand concept towards which the narrative tends. [cough.]

What a long entry. Better get my nose back to the grind-stone.

Church was more fun than usual today. Except that I did the 8.00 communion at St. Pauls. A lady whose name escapes me preached. Helpfully so, at least for me.
At St. Martians (Thats the spell checker for you) Kim Murray preached. That was good too. All these women I don't know
Jill collapsed asleep straight after the service. She went into work yesterday to do the overnight shift from 5pm until 9am and then came straight to church Usually she manages bra (thats the spell checker again, honest, I type BT rather than BY) keeping going but not today

Hello there, been a while since I blogged here seeing as I have my own blog and all... I've just moved to carpebiem.blogspot.com and updated a few things. I just like having my own blog s'all...

Err... Angelfire is happy to host pictures again Adrian, so your Team Logo is still up at the same address, http://www.angelfire.com/blog/carpebiem/kung_pow.jpg, if you want to put it back up. Also, I tried to change the colour for Mum and Dad's posts but could only get it to be one colour, instead of a different one for the titlebars... I probably just did something silly. Right, ta ra.

Somebody has said of the boldest figure in rhetoric, the hyperbole, that it lies without deceiving.
- Macaulay

On Hyperbole

Was going to be a comment, but it was too long.

[S]orry [M]ark[, ]but [I] read it to [A]my and we were both like - you what?

It was rather over the top, sorry. I'm afraid I just happen to like using long words - those are some of my favourites.

Anyway...

"[E]veryone was calling me mummy[.]"

"Neither James nor myself recollect calling you 'mummy'."

I should know better than to take what anyone says literally, but if you do read what you said literally, it means that "everyone" does not include James and I. And that makes me a sad panda.

:'(

Well not really. This is because I know that you use a lot of hyperbole. I don't know if you're familiar with the word, but I'll assume that you're not - it's a particular kind of exaggeration, for effect, that you happen to use a hell of a lot. You might say that you are always using hyperbole. [embarassed cough]

It's usually pretty obvious when someone is using hyperbole, but in your blog entry it was unclear (how would anyone know whether James or myself had literally called you "mummy" that day?), and I happened to feel like pointing it out, as I have a vague distaste for the idea that people might think I go around calling people "mummy" when I do not.

In a sense, yes - everyone was calling you "mummy". In a sense - I didn't. And this is why I find language a bizarre and intriguing thing.

We had a great holiday. Did sod all but sleep read visit the sorts of places Jill and I like. Despite a frustrating series of attempts to book, we eventually got our cruise along the coast in boat trip. Saw dolphins, seals, kittiwakes, lots of Jelly fish, shags cormorants.
Camp site very quiet, at one time there were just 3 vans in the field (one field of 4 field, and the others were busier). Daily deliveries by a cheerful Taff of milk and newspaper.
Usually whilst driving saw kites No not things with strings; the type with flappy wings. Magnificent creature. Managed to watch one pair from the campsite using binoculars.

Had d walk along a short section of the Pembrokeshire coast walk, I really should remember to take my asthma reliever stuff on holiday. However in I quiet moment heard larks sing for the first time in 44 years. Flash back time to when I still lived in Heap Bridge, Bury

Good holiday that is until we got Nicholas. No Nicholas was not the problem. The weather happened to change. At about half past ten at night I noticed rain dribbling down the side of the caravan enclosed BTU the awning. How is that getting in I wonder. The rail attached to the van was being pulled away. So before it was ripped off we had to take down the awning lashed by wind and rain. Not much fun. Did not sleep well despite having two bottles of medicine.
Due to set of Wednesday morning. High winds, gales round the coast the M$ Bristol channel bridges closed and a deadline of being home for lunch time on Thursday.
tomb Verde to the Welsh campsite was about 200 miles, with the MA in Wales hugging the coast we decided to use the A40 inland This added 50 miles and used bigger hills and smaller roads.
Set off at 3pm when the wind had abated and had gained information that towing was not at all bad. Arrived Verwood 10.30; set up van in dark. Somewhat tense from driving so long; had just 4 twenty minute stops. Rather tense at bed time; hit the bottle again (Do you think two bottles of Theakstons OP. and one of Waggle dance over two nights is a excessive?)

I'm starting to look forward to the holiday, I've booked my train tickets. I think I've done everything to prepare that I can. The only thing really left to do is wait, I'm coming home on Friday 2nd July about midday and hopefully there won't be any problems.

Good afternoon. How are you all?

Well, I say "all"...

Anyway, it's me again. On Friday was the last Choral Society concert of the year, for which I booked Friday afternoon off, though Sarah distracted me from rushing off at twelve with some boring work thing which turns out to be okay after all.

Poor Choral Society Committee. They've been let down by conductors, choir members and committe members all year. In fact, I guess I should say poor Mark and Rachel, as they're the only ones who do anything. But they do do it well. Doing Messiah next term to drag the punters (both singers and singees) in, whihc sounds like a good idea. The rehearsal went surprisingly well I thought, even the Bach, so I strolled cheerily home.

The concert was fun, especially the mass (from which catholicam in the credo seems to have been omitted - I mean, why use the Nicene creed at all if you're embarassed about the word "catholic"?). Having had the Bach go so well in rehearsal we cacked the first movement up on the night, but after that it's plain sailing anyway.

I fear I may have been misrepresented, by the way. I wasn't remotely disappointed that our German in Kantate 127 wasn't fierce - that would be a bit silly. But it was a shame that all the consonantal splendour of Deutsch couldn' be conveyed a little more explicitly. Some other time.

James blogged the retreat tolerably well - he can have a link, as I'm running out of time, and he's got better permalinks now.

Sunday. Ah yes, Sunday was day of rest and a half - even if I did do a week's worth of washing up with Rob and James pitching in to various degrees. I couldn't be arsed to walk to the pub for the quiz, which was just as well, as there wasn't one on, so Lisa and Zosia had to make do with the majesty/fury of our front room. One day - one day it will be tidy.

Tomorrow I shall be taking the afternoon off again to give Irene and her friend from Yorkshire a lift down to the station, after which I shall have a car for a bit. What to do, what to do? She's even left picnicking equipment in it. Gosh.

Pay day, dash it, is not until the very last day of the month. I shall be intrigued to see whether I will have any spending money to speak of after pay day.

Too much i'th' Sun

Mmm... sleepy. That's what I am today.

It's because I've been getting up very early I suppose. The warmth and the sunlight, as we know, tend to wake one up in the morning this time of year.

This was in no wise helped by the fact that I've been sitting in direct sunlight in James' room, and as we all know, sunlight makes you sleepy.

Now isn't that odd?

Think I might have a lie-in tomorrow.

Unless I misunderstood the exchange, two people yesterday, who they were I cannot recall, corrected my assertion that "piss" and "pus[s]" have a divergent number of letters. My dictionary vindicates me. Sometimes I wonder why I bother checking.

The internet expects me to die Tuesday, February 15, 2056. Perhaps I should sell tickets.

There follows a blog entry just for John. Normal service will resume shortly.

Well.

I'd recommend a period of about three months from 23.6, as I'll have a car to drive around in. I'm off on holiday 3-10.7 and 22-28.8. I'm going to a performance on 14.7.

Thank you for your patience.

Can you feel the intertextuality - huh, canya?