Incense, Snakes and Cats

Richard has the ~~bubonic plague~~ a headcold.

2am saw me padding around the living room, wide awake. Hubby was snoring like a jammed lawnmower, which is not conducive to restful meditations. So I'd come down here, lit some incense and read for a while.

Mum's not feeling too well. She had food poisoning after eating out, followed by a cold, and now her balance has gone haywire again. She's had inner ear infections before, several times that I can remember. Evelyn stayed the first night with her and took her to the doctor's in the morning. When I spoke to her, Mum said she was feeling better but the Stenetil tablets make her very sleepy.

Cat is now an official university student! Yaay!!! And she's bought a pet snake named Havok....

Two friends were caught up in the recent airline collapse. Lynn and Lee had only three days left of their Greek island holiday when their hotel manager told them their room had not been paid for. They were given the choice of paying £600 instantly--which was the cost of their room for two weeks--or sleeping on the beach with police charges hanging over them. Lynn and Lee had already paid for the hotel when they'd booked the holiday. On top of this, their flight home no longer existed (due to the airline collapse) so they had to pay for another flight home. Obviously, they intend to claim against their travel insurance. But their holiday was seriously marred. Lee should have been walking around a sunny Greek island, when instead he was pacing round our algid patio with Emily trying to eat his shoelaces.

Comments

A Cure for Aging?

"All that we profess to do is but this, - to find out the secrets of the human frame; to know why the parts ossify and the blood stagnates, and to apply continual preventatives to the effort of time. This is not magic; it is the art of medicine rightly understood. In our order we hold most noble -, first, that knowledge which elevates the intellect; secondly, that which preserves the body. But the mere art (extracted from the juices and simples) which recruits the animal vigour and arrests the progress of decay, or that more noble secret which I will only hint to thee at present, by which heat or calorific, as ye call it, being, as Heraclitus wisely taught, the primordial principle of life, can be made its perpectual renovator...." Zanoni, book IV, chapter II, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, first published in 1842. Oroboros keyring - Spooky Cute Designs The idea of being able to achieve an immortal life is probably as old as human life itself. Folklore and myt...

Remembering Richie Tattoo Artist's Studio

Richard in the street entrance to his tattoo studio in Liverpool. The vertical sign next to Richard is now in the Liverpool Tattoo Museum. Yesterday, my sister Evelyn, Richard and myself stood outside Richard's old tattoo studio and looked up at the few remaining signs, whose paint has now mostly flacked away to reveal bare wood. On the studio's window are stick-on letters which read, "Art", where once it boldly announced his presence as the city's only "Tattoo Artist". I can remember him buying that simple plastic lettering from an old-fashioned printer's shop. This was in 1993, not long after he'd opened the studio and before he could afford better signs. After he'd patiently stuck them onto the glass we realised that from the outside the sign read "Artist Tattoo", so we had to carefully peel the letters off the window and have another go, laughing over having made such an obvious error yet worried in case we spoiled the letteri...

Dear Diary...

Do you keep a diary? Why did you start it, and, if you started one then stopped, why was that? What sort of things do (or did) you write about? I ask as, as a long-time diarist myself, there is an interesting piece in The Guardian today which talks about one woman's diary habit, which she began at the age of fourteen. I started a diary around that age too, but destroyed it after my mother accused me of using cocaine. A stern scene followed, with both parents perched ram-rod straight in their armchairs, while I was subjected to a heated inquisition. Where had I bought it, and who from? Didn't I know such things led to death and doom? I struggled to decipher their bewildering accusations, until Mum blurted out, "I read it in your diary!" To find my diary, Mum would first have had to rummage through my dressing table, obviously when I wasn't around to protest. Her intrusion on my privacy was assumed by both parents to be acceptable, and now, with this handwritten c...

Search This Blog