youngraven: (Default)
Margaret Murphy's is mostly painted. In all honesty, I've got round an hour and a half's worth of work left me. Last night, painting did occur till my poor wee corpus was cross-eyed and fit for the rubbish heap.

Ooh...there's a lovely ginger mog sneaking up on me. I'd say he's round two years of age. Now that the 'pub' is composed mostly of large windows (that we can remove in a flash - haha), I can see everything in my back garden. It's a bit like being outdoors with a roof on. :D

Since also we've now got the Best Fence Ever (seriously, within two days of it being all erected and done, a neighbour left a calling card to ask us about it), I've no worries of neighbours peering in at me and, well - you know - watching me dancing about as I'm painting.

I have, unfortunately, banjaxed my hands. It's bizarre; I can't have been gripping the brush quite that tightly, and yet... My hands are unruly (sure, they unlatch themselves at night and go scarpering through the neighbourhood tipping over wheelie bins), there's really almost nothing to them. I mean, I know there's really almost nothing to anybody's hands - I've been to BodyWorlds (which I think everybody should do) and I did especially look at the hands. At days like these, I think there's even less to mine. I'm crossing myself in hopes that I can make it through tomorrow's seisiun. :S

Ah well. The room needed to be painted, and I need to play (infer what you will, 'cos I ain't saying it outright). And speaking of painting, this last wee bit won't be painting itself, so it's back to the grind with me.
youngraven: (Default)
[ profile] shaddowshoes has been working a great many sound gigs for a band called Behan. Actually, I think it's supposed to be written all in uppercased letters, you see me not doing that?

Argh, I'm pissing over somebody's branding. I hate it when it happens to me.


There, I've properly written it.

Right then, back to one's point. When he works for them, he usually keeps rather late hours, it it isn't always that I see him till the next morning. On the night in question, I'd drifted off to sleep when he darted into our room and switched on the light.

I think I said 'meh' in response to the unexpected illumination.

He was standing beside the wash basin, his hands cupped together. He said 'you can pet it - quickly - but then I have to let it go', and he opened his hands to reveal a small, brown toad.

It blinked at me, I scratched its head, and [ profile] shaddowshoes released it back into the wild. It had found its way into the bar, and was wandering up towards the open door to the house, where the cats would have found it and done it a mischief.

So, there's the Toad Story. It's a special sort of fellow who will wake a girl to show her the local fauna.
youngraven: (orion rising)
Lately, forcing myself to post anything beyond the odd word here and there has been much like pulling teeth - only without the curious smelling gas, blood, and dentist. I think I've been floating along blissfully in the sea of Can't Be Arsed.

There really isn't much use in having a journal if one never uses it, now is there?

So, whilst I'm waiting for [ profile] shaddowshoes to make good on his ice cream suggestion, I'm pissing about with my new Macintosh LJ client, and having a go at finding words to match the goings on of the last fortnight. I think there's my trouble, really - none of the words I've got match the events at all.

Cut because I love you. )'s time for us to be off to our bed.
youngraven: (orion rising)
Earlier this year, [ profile] shaddowshoes unearthed our sunroom, and we transformed it into the pub we now call 'Margaret Murphy's'. We held our first party in it last February, and it was a grand success. So, here are a few photos from Margaret Murphy's.

Witty cut tag here )
youngraven: (och)
I know I've used that title before. It was just as revolting then as it is now. Hurrah that.

My Bad Cat Calendar's offering for today is likely to offend somebody, so I've covered it over with my Podlike Being. My Podlike Being's first offering for the morning is 'The Kilburn High Road'. That song always fills me with a mad desire to get filthy pissed and burn things down.

I'm not entirely certain why.

It's another song that Floggin' M play astonishingly fast live. Seriously, the corners of the room had begun to curve inwards. If the song had been another minute longer, the universe would have frayed round the edges.

Edges. Ha. )

I was an unforgivable 20 minute late to the office.

'S all I got, me dearies - and to think you've just killed ten minutes of your life at reading it. Seems damned unfair, dunnit?
youngraven: (Mr Shamoose)
Well, that's another weekend in a body bag...


Terrible analogy. I aimed for edgy, dangerous humour; I think I've missed my mark.

At the moment, I'm on the floor in Margaret's listening to Finnish music. The piece is call-and-response and sung in the hard-voiced style. The hard voiced style, I have decided, is the human voice at its truest. Why do I say this? Because it seems ubiquitous. I've yet to find a culture whose traditional music doesn't employ the hard-voiced style.

I think this proves that we all come from the same planet. Hurrah for us, eh? 'Cos I know some of you had started to worry.

I haven't got anything really. Today was a quiet day. We did the Easter Lunch With Family thing, and then [ profile] shaddowshoes and I went round the shops. He bought many things, I elected to wait. I suppose I wasn't in the proper mood for it. That, and I was convinced that we had very little time in which to get anything done. I was mistaken, but ah well. He bought books and a camping chair (like your one, [ profile] typsygypsy).

Now, we're lingering about in the bar. He's telling me about a taller version of his chair. It's the weight that concerns me the most. If I'm to have it strapped to my back, then the lighter the better. It looks as though our first excursion of the year will be the dulcimer festival at Glen Rose. I doubt we'll hike in, so weight isn't much of a concern. I'm not hiking with my bodhran strapped to my back. That would be ridiculous.

At any rate, thus went our Easter (or whatever).

Yesterday, we...oh right. We worked out whether the government will or will not be bleeding us dry. At the moment, 'will not' appears to be winning, so hurrah for that. We did that and the hideous amount of washing that had been attempting to stage a coups d'etat in our bedroom. I've already begun dropping bits and bobs on the pile for charity. There is absolutely no reason for me to keep clothing that does not fit. That's me sending a subtle message to myself that I'll eventually fail and revert back to a porcine state. Na. Enough of that.

Yeh, you recall the pithy, glib postings I've made in the past? Sure, this isn't going to be one of them, so I'll not be at all hurt if you find something else to do. (Translation: I'm disinclined to entertain. Nothing personal.)

Most of Saturday was spent in the bar. We chose the bar because - well, ostensibly for the space - but in reality we chose the bar because...

pauses to play along with the CD

Right then, we chose the bar because tax shite can be such filthy aggro that we didn't want to be too far from our drink. Slainte.

Sure, at any rate...I don't think I did anything else Saturday...oh, right, we went for a walk as the light was failling and then for gelato. I'm rather fond of gelato. I had the hazelnut, and [ profile] shaddowshoes had the vaniglia bourban. (Is this a slip jig? Are there Norwegian slip jigs?)

Since we're going backwards thro' time (living like Merlin lived?), on to Friday. Life at the office has been feast or famine. I'm up to my nose in aggro during the feast days, and I'm bored out of my skull during the famine days. Since last week had included both such days, and also since [ profile] shaddowshoes had a day off, I decided that I wasn't direly needed at the office Friday, so we went to the shops instead. Friday's foray out to the world of rampant consumerism was mostly out of necessity; however, we did go round an outfitters, and I bought this

with a gift card that [ profile] thorkull had given me. Cheers, mate. :)(It's a Camelbak hydration pack - if that isn't evident.)

After the shops was practise, in which we had a great many troubles with communication. Ah well. It's entirely possible that I shouldn't have started drinking before everybody arrived. You think? Och. So...afterwards...we all went out, and...nattered.

So. Whee.


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April 2013

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