“I don’t think I should like to have the telephone in my establishment. Once the first excitement is over, it must be a perfect racket going on all the time.” – Proust: ‘Within A Budding Grove’ (À L’ombre Des Jeunes Filles En Fleurs) – – – – – – – – – – One-Liner Wednesday…
Most people who know me would agree that I’m of a generally calm, nay taciturn, mien. In Dad’s Army terms, I’m more Sergeant Wilson than Corporal Jones: So this latest offering in WordPress’ 365 Days of Writing Prompts held few fears for me when I first approached it: “In a crisis. Honestly evaluate the way…
Joseph Heller got it right: Last Tuesday lunchtime, much to my chagrin, my iPad wouldn’t open the BBC iPlayer page, thereby depriving Madame and me of the possibility of listening to the News Quiz while chowing down on our baguettes. Disappointing. Madame didn’t seem to have a problem with her iPad so, following my iron…
Last year, in an escalation of the ceaseless struggle against ever encroaching weeds – if you wanted to flaunt your French vocabulary, you could call it the war on terroir – I traded up from an electric to a petrol-driven lawnmower. Despite my initial concerns, this has actually turned out to be rather effective: to…
After a mild winter, the life cycle of the flora that surrounds us here at Tranquility Base is already well advanced. The forsythia is budding, the Narcissi are in bloom, the air is filled with birdsong. And the grass needs cutting. This year, we have a new weapon in the unending war against nature. I’ve cranked up the shock…
Despite my well-documented inability to get to grips with technology (defined as basically anything invented since the Stone Age), I still have the inherent Y-chromosome marker for ‘kit’. Sadly, though, this thing I have going on with technology is a classic love/hate relationship. I love it, but it hates me. Gadgets, boys’ toys – call…
It’s all the fault of WordPress. And Brian out of ‘New Tricks’. Although this blog site is unashamedly more of an ego trip than a sales pitch, I confess to sometimes feeling that it might be nice if my finely-polished aphorisms attracted an audience that extended a little beyond duty-bound immediate family and kind friends…
the only deadhead in the hameau 