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 |   Maybe meandering, possibly peripatetic and indisputably irregular. |
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So here it is.. a blog. Repository of some of my present musings and interests. Sometimes things pop into my head that should probably stay there - it is possible I shall share at least some of them here. (Naturally I shall filter out the ones about my sordid obsession with the culinary dark arts, one has to protect the innocent!) Please feel free not to take this too seriously, much of it could wind up being snippets of things that amuse me. Yesterday I came up with this: Few politicians can be considered first class, but not a few are number twos. What can I do with it? Nothing springs to mind, except perhaps blog it. Perhaps in some other life I'm a failed stand-up comedian. I have the beginnings of an idea to introduce another player into the Mr Moonlight story, a nice visual has occurred to me, and a summoning gone wrong seems appropriate. When I finish up here I shall literally put pen to paper. I find writing at least initially longhand helps my ideas flow. When I type up what I've written, I give it a first revision at the same time, and as a bare minimum check my spellings and grammar . I do want to keep tabs on my current reading here. I usually have several books on the go at the same time. Currently I am working through 'Pyramids' by Terry Pratchett. I reread Pratchett's books over and over - usually at work where they provide much needed amusement whilst I eat breakfast. 'The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle', by Stuart Turton was loaned to me by a friend who shares a love of murder mysteries, (especially Agatha Christie's works). It is a new take on the genre and very very clever. The protagonist occupies different bodies - a selection of the guests at the house where Evelyn is murdered. Each day he spends in a different guest, and he has been tasked with discovering the murderer - or maybe saving Evelyn from actually being murdered, it is hard to tell. The book twists and turns and is quite intriguing. 'New Science - Principles of the new science concerning the common nature of nations' is an English translation by David Marsh of 'La Scienza Nuova' by Giambattista Vico, published in 1725. Not far into this yet, I had to find a copy of the frontispiece online, as it wasn't included in the Kindle edition. The first part of the book explains the idea - and uses a detailed description of the frontispiece to convey this. So being without it would have made things somewhat harder. 'The Complete Works of Michael De Montaigne' is again a translation, this time by Donald M. Frame. Montaigne's Essays are famous, I kept reading about them, so treated myself to a nice hardbound copy to dip into - usually just before bedtime. So there we have it - a blog entry - enjoy! (whispers almost inaudibly 'Bon Appétit). |
| I sat up feeling much better than I had any right to, and even when I turned and looked down at my frankly rather ghastly expression, I merely thought how that would have turned my stomach, had I still been alive. I confess that I felt no surprise that I was dead. After all I had just killed myself. But, I was somewhat taken unawares to find myself still here. Or at least my soul seemed to be. Or was I a ghost now? How does one tell the difference? My speculations were interrupted by the entrance of my wife. "Oh!" She said, looking right through me to my corpse lying on the floor beneath me. 'Oh!' Oh!, is that all? Your husband is dead and all you can muster is 'Oh!'? "Hello. Well I'm not sure really. It's a bit too late for an ambulance, but I expect I'll need one, and probably the police as well. It's my husband. Yes. He's blown his brains out. Yes, I'm pretty sure that he's dead. There isn't a lot of his cranium left, that's why." I listened as she dutifully gave her details, name and address that sort of thing. Then she went to the kitchen and filled the kettle and switched it on. To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement, how could she be so calm? The police arrived, together with no less than three ambulances, which was overkill in my opinion, though no one was interested in my opinion. Probably because they couldn't hear it. Ponsonby came in and gave me a look. I remember reading somewhere that cats can see ghosts, and it did seem to be true. The strange thing is, I could have sworn his look said "Oh the can opener is broken, that's a shame." Then he meowed meaningfully at my wife, who'd just finished making everyone hot drinks. She patted him fondly and reached for a sachet of cat food. Ponsonby gave me rather a smug look and settled down to enjoy his dinner. |
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). I mostly reject that. I'm eating rice with an egg this morning but Pannya just brought me chocolate milk from 7/11 (bless him; I really don't need it).
