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Tilting at windmills

  Thu 29th May 2014

A rainy day on the Fylde coast with a busty wench from North Wales. What more could a boy want?

We couldn't find the museum where the exhibition was supposed to be, so gave up on it, and instead, I pissed off the owner of the town's chippy by questioning his method of cooking chips -- they parboil them, then fry them. Result: claggy, pale, limp chips that all stick together and have the consistency of baby food.

Then a few pints in The Taps -- what a superb pub that is, made a great deal better by Kitty turning up for a couple of creme de menthe's. I had top notch Butter Bump (no, that's not a mistake) from Acorn in Barnsley at 2.65. Yet again, Lancaster proves it's the most expensive place for a drink for miles around.

Lytham is a place where the people walk around with the air of those convinced that they are more stylish than they are: men in pink shirts, plum-coloured jumpers with small, high V-necks; posh jeans and those beige shoes that seem always to curl up slightly towards the toes; fortysomething women in very tight white trousers and black high heels. As the conversation drifted around to the customary topics, we allowed the table next to us a bit of discreet eavesdropping. The poor man next to us, hearing a beautiful girl like Kitty talking about sex, is probably going to have the shakes this evening when he's pouring a G&T for the Colonel and his wife at the Bridge Club.

At Preston station I successfully bored the poor girl serving by telling her that this used to be our railway mess room and that there used to be Bass on tap, because girls in their early twenties are fascinated by the history of the room in which they are working, and in old beers formerly available in Preston station.

So you don't like going out, aren't interested in good conversation, and worst of all, can't punctuate.


That’s a great shot! So clever.

Mighty generous to give your neighbor something to consider when he went home that night. Imagine how he feels about his life now.

Girls in their early 20’s are also fascinated by gents our age chatting them up. Take it from me; they LOVE IT.

I can’t punctuate worth a damn so I’m not piling-on. But I’d have spotted that unnecessary space between the first quote mark and letter g.

Fri 30th May 2014 @ 11:46
Comment from: [Member]

Thank you. It was Trina with my little cheap camera on auto.

I wasn’t chatting the girl up, I was just gabbling.

It’s the “im” that bothers me. It’s as common as the usual your/you’re, they’re/their/there confusions, and this strange one in British English, where people write “loose” for “lose". And then there’s “alot"… oh, I could go on, and on, and on.

Such errors are helpful, shibboleths by which you can easily eliminate from consideration, people who don’t read.

Fri 30th May 2014 @ 12:04
Comment from: Hipster Yaya [Visitor]

I hope you had fun at the excursion.

Great pic! What a shame the dancing dude can hardly be seen :(

As for punctuating… *sigh*

Good thing you don’t have to use accents and a number of ortography and gramar rules. Whatsapp and SMSs are not helping much.I speak a hybrid Appalachian-Sandwichian language variety, so talking about sibboleths -new word for me- I make a lot of them.

Fri 6th June 2014 @ 16:27
Comment from: [Member]

I love diacritical marks and I wish English had more of them. “Naïve", “rôle", “cliché” “débâcle", but not many others, and even those are becoming antiquated spellings that people can’t be bothered with.

Fri 6th June 2014 @ 19:43
Comment from: Leni Qinan [Visitor]

Oh there are indeed, chéri! Folie à deux, fouettée, menage à trois, negligée, là-bas, crème frappée, décolleté, soirée…

Sun 8th June 2014 @ 10:13
Comment from: Hipster Yaya [Visitor]


Sun 8th June 2014 @ 10:15
Comment from: [Member]

Not many though, including my examples, where people bother with the diacritical marks.

I don’t think that “folie à deux", “fouettée", or “là-bas” have been adopted as English words.

Sun 8th June 2014 @ 10:51
Comment from: Leni Qinan [Visitor]

Really? I definitely think they should. They’re very useful in some situations.

Mon 9th June 2014 @ 19:11

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 60 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

63 mago
Another Angry Voice
the asshat lounge
Clutter From The Gutter
Eryl Shields Ink
Exile on Pain Street
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George Szirtes ditto
Infomaniac [NSFW]
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