The wind was in his flowing hair,
The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.
Okay, so last night Maria & I were playing the Lord of the Rings Geek Game – ie. one reads a line from the story, and the other one has to say who says it and where. WHAT A GAME – it’s just Heavenly to me! Barely anything could make me happier 🙂
Anyway, Maria was about to read the above stanza, and set it up like this: "Tell me who is speaking and who it’s about." Can you do it? Highlight below for the answer …
It’s Legolas, singing about Amroth while in Lorien, sitting beside the Nimrodel.
Did you get it?
I start a TESOL course on Monday!
Thereafter, I will officially have a SKILL 🙂
[only 10 years after finishing my GCSEs]
I bought myself a little daily prayer booklet for Lent, and I am already 3 days behind – this morning I made it to day 4. It mentioned about Derek Redmond at the Olympics in 1992, tearing his hamstring part way through his 400m heat.
He probably knew straight away that the injury would end his career (he’d been expected to challenge for a medal), and decided to hobble to rest of the way & finish the race. You probably remember the rest – his Dad coming on to help him make it, and to let his son’s tears fall on him. It’s one of my most vivid memories.
This isn’t the best video, but it’s the best one I could find. The little interview at the end puts competitions and medals and everything into perspective:
Here we are: the lovely Stackridge, for whom my Dad roadied a fair bit in the mid-70s. This is the first footage of them that I have ever seen, and am therefore quite excited really. They were all from Bristol/Somerset way originally and were what you might call ‘a John Peel band’ (ie. not particularly famous, but ludicrously well-beloved). Okay, so now please enjoy Dancing On Air:
So, if I were to get a Really Large Extra-Mansize sheet of Kleenex and stand on the side of the road shouting, "BIG TISSUE!!" would that be funny?
My flatmate Anna and I are in similar positions – unemployed until our temping agencies give us something to do – and so today, in order to learn how to love our lives, we went down the pub at lunchtime and resolved not to come out until we’d had some ideas.
And we managed it! Not exactly ideas which will earn our way to super-stardom, but a little project that we can enjoy and put our hearts into:
We’ve decided to write and print our own newspaper/magazine type thing (working title: ‘The Big Tissue’, based on the above attempt at making you laugh) dedicated to our area of Newington. It will be mostly comedy and spoof stuff, but with the underlying aim of expressing the community dynamic that exists here (and thererby increase it). Should be fun! It’ll mostly be the sort of thing that is left on tables in the local pubs & cafes, but (if worthwhile) we might expand to include letterboxing too. And thereby conquer the globe.
It was fun being creative 🙂
Having had a pretty crap week (despite some fun Valentining), Maria & I celebrated our continued existence (for yes, we are still alive) by buzzing off to Hot Fuzz on Friday night.
Oh you must go – you really must! Go now! Take my car!! PLEASE!!!
When a plot allows a sinister supermarket supremo to legitimately become impaled upon a church spire (through the chin, of course), a pleasant middle-aged lady to cycle towards camera, guns blazing, and Peter Jackson to cameo as a cadavar or as Santa (depending on whom you believe), you know you’re having FUN …
[Here follows some processing-out-loud. These opinions my change.]
No, I didn’t get the job, and yes, I am quite upset/annoyed about it. Not so much about not getting it (although I definitely am) as the feeling of not being able to be myself or express myself or generally do David in the kind of way which was normal and easy and not-even-worth-thinking-about until about a year ago, just before I left New Zealand.
So basically, it seems that my present disappointment actually represents a soreness encapsulating the past 12 months or something, over which time I have magically ceased to be able to do the things which are closest to my heart and to my nature, and left me feeling horribly bewildered about what on earth is going on and what on earth I can do about it and who on earth am I anyway? Etc.
I don’t know what I have to offer the world any more, and once I really did – I genuinely knew who I was and what I was doing, and now I’m pretty stuffed. That’s a very sad-and-uncomfortable feeling.
How on earth am I going to get to sleep?!
It’s thoroughly, boringly normal for us to hate our schooldays, isn’t it? It’s kind of presumed. Because then life was prescribed, whereas thereafter, we have been our own leaders – free to screw ourselves up. I LOVED school – lessons, football at break, bleeding on the rugby field – nearly all of it! It was my solid rock through my wobbly teenagehood.
Is this allowed? Do I add this to my litany of middle-class guilts? Having spoken to my very nice Brasilian friend at church yesterday, who informed me that she couldn’t remember a time in her life when she was happier than now, I’ve been reminded of how much I’ve regarded happiness as shallow and a hardship as much more noble. But why not be HAPPY?! Why not ENJOY life? Just because I’m a Christian doesn’t mean I have to be grumpy & underwhelmed about everything. Where are the small miracles?
So here are some of the little things I love (& want to love more):
Audio Books/BBC Dramatisations
There’ll be a lot more. I just need to learn to notice them 🙂