Monday, 31 December 2012
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Friday, 28 December 2012
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Tuesday, 25 December 2012
Monday, 24 December 2012
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Saturday, 22 December 2012
Friday, 21 December 2012
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
Nowadays these fast food establishments are becoming the choice of our burgeoning middle classes. Why spend three quarters of an hour preparing and cooking a meal for your family when you can drive three miles to a takeaway, queue for ten minutes to have your order taken, wait fifteen minutes for your order to be cooked, pay your twenty pounds and drive three miles home with the caffeine free ,"coke," which you have purchased at the local petrol station? The answer in many instances is convenience, (aka laziness.)
Monday, 17 December 2012
Sunday, 16 December 2012
Saturday, 15 December 2012
I am not quite sure who gave me this commemorative cover or indeed who produced it. I suppose that it could have been the then Limavady District Council which had the idea of celebrating this little known event. It does seem to be slightly unusual to celebrate a fourteen hundredth anniversary. It's not one of those anniversaries that strike you as being particularly noteworthy.
The Convention was called by the then High King of Ireland a gentleman by the name of Aedh (aka Hugh). There were three matters deliberated upon:-
1. The release by Aedh of one Scannlan Mor. - He wasn't!
2. The growing and burdensome power of the Bards. - Their powers and numbers were reduced.
3. The relationship between the High King of Ireland and the Scottish Kingdom of Dalriada. - The Scottish kingdom no longer had to pay tribute to Ireland and a mutual defence alliance was established.
I suspect that this piece of ephemera will end up on e bay or in a postal philatelic auction in the very near future.
Thursday, 13 December 2012
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
Monday, 10 December 2012
(See now post of 11/12/12 by way of update)
Sunday, 9 December 2012
Friday, 7 December 2012
I also wanted to dig up some leeks for this evenings repast. I don't imagine that anything too exotic will be done with them. They will most probably meet their end with a rather calorific cream sauce covering their blanched looks. No doubt standard carbohydrate fare together with a modicum of protein will accompany them to my plate before I dispatch them all. In terms of liquid refreshment to assist my digestion I think that it may be necessary to open the bottle of Pouilly- Fuisse given to me by a friend a couple of months back. It would be wrong to allow it to turn to vinegar and disrespectful to the friend.
I have to concede that runners tend not to be known for the sartorial elegance of their running gear, but there is what might be described as an accepted and acceptable code of dress. This bunioneer had however developed his own very idiosyncratic style. He had one of those rather silly looking faux fur hats with ear flaps planted on his head. The bobble on the top did not improve the look. His lower body was encased in blue shell suit bottoms the legs of which he had tucked into dark brown, knee length socks. Maybe he adopted a similar garb for cycling, eschewing the use of bicycle clips I mused. As for his footwear it could best be described as solid, - very solid. I hadn't realised that you could purchase leather running shoes modelled on the hobnail boot, but the evidence was now in front of me. His jacket was I think constructed of canvas, perhaps purchased at the closing down sale of the last Army & Navy Store. The overall look was not good. His running action was little better. His legs only moved from the knee down. It was as if the gusset of his shell suit bottoms was wallowing between his knees. As for his arms these were held rigidly in front of his chest. His back was ramrod straight. There was no fluidity of movement. He was moving, but contrary to all of the principles of forward motion. It did not take me long to overhaul him.
About half way up the beach I came upon two fishermen. They had their fishing rods propped up on tripods and they were busily sucking on their cigarettes. They stamped their feet trying to ward off the coldness of the gloom. At the end of each of their rods was a small red light. From a distance it looked like a gathering of glow worms. They were still engaged in their lonely vigil on my return. The other runner was however no where to be seen. Perhaps he had become embarrassed by his appearance ? I suspect not. A look like his could only have been developed after deep deliberation. One could see that he revelled in it. Three people had seen him and his ,"get up." Thus sated he had cut short his exercise and drifted homewards.
I arrived back at the car with just under thirty minutes on the clock so taking to the roads I headed towards the promenade and completed a lap which took me round the outskirts of the town. That done I also drifted homewards.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
Sunday, 2 December 2012
Saturday, 1 December 2012
I suppose that I cannot have been more than eight or nine when I first met Ludwig and his wife. It was at the Guildhall where the local horticultural society was holding its autumn show. He had won the cacti and succulent classes. I was unplaced. He took time to explain to a very enthusiastic schoolboy how he had carried out certain grafts. I subsequently visited him on several occasions to see his very large collection of cacti.
A nice man. A cultured man. A man who has left his mark.