Damn, did I miss those beach volleyball and the Dutch Hockey games?
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Damn, did I miss those beach volleyball and the Dutch Hockey games?
I rarely find Olympic women attractive (those field hockey Dutch women being an exception). They're too muscle-y, it erases all curves. That chick,s stomach above just looks weird to me. The gymnasts all have these weird Hulk-like necks. Most of the track and field and the ever popular beach volleyball players look too mannish.
[QUOTE=prendrelemick;1160283]
Mrs P disagrees and reckons the best looking team are the these obviously miss-named coxless fours.
Misnamed coxless fours - classic line.
I spent four hours in the bank today ... I know,,,, and there wasn't even a hold up! Still I have some new lifecover...
I did notice in the wall upstairs a big red neon "RAID" sign which I've never noticed before. It does set the imagination going when you're waiting around. Do they still say "OK this is a stickup", or "Everybody on the floor... move!" anymore? I didn't like to ask the nice assistant in case she thought I was preparing a script for future use. I wonder what the current "bandit etiquette" is?
The bandits have been welcomed in, given jobs and are now running the banks.
So bandit etiquette woud now go something like:
"What can I do for you today Sir?"
I was in there again today - the bank, (I'm not suddenly hooked, I was returning signatures). I asked whether they thought my wife would be suspicious if I suggested her going on the life policy at a later date. I think the answer was an unverbalised:
"Wha' choo talkin' 'bout, fool?"
Really? I'm attracted to fine-boned beauties, but also to solid 'I can snap you over these smooth legs' women. :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Mutatis-Mutandis
You could become an MP with suchlike peccadilloes.
bump - We were about to fall off the front page.
D**n, your leg snapping comment just made me realize I missed the women's wrestling!Quote:
Originally Posted by Silas Thorne
Did anyone catch that? any wardrobe malfunctions?
I was able to watch a bit of women's tarmpoline and synchronised swimming though -I'd like to be tossed in the middle of that.
Oh I can't tell you how good my Golden Hen is.:cheers2: That's after a few days flirting with other birds and 3 sets of tennis followed by a bike up the hill, smashing!
I had a pint of Terrier last night, I hadn't done owt to deserve it - I hadn't been flirting with a dog or anything- but it still slpped down well.
Good man. I’ve not had much experience in the dog department, but I wish you luck – I prefer the golden birds if I can get my hands on them.
I certainly feel I deserve it though, as yesterday I was sat on Devonshire Green eating raspberries in the sun. Today I laboured in my deckchair finishing off my delightful Three Men in a Boat. Life is a bastard.
Now I am conversing with a Mr Wainwright having just finished off two small pizzas, don't worry I'm biking in the Peaks tomorrow so I'll burn it off up the hills.:) (And down them into Castleton for a pint of course.)
I tried a local Tetleys last week, as you asked. It tasted as I remember, but the body of it was quite flat, unlike a hand pumped version.Quote:
Originally Posted by prendrelemick
NOooo a flat Tetleys that's terrible ! I had a proper one at Odsal on sunday, it was lovely, downwards bubbles and everything.
Neely. Is that the famous Mr Wainwright? Are you planning a sojourn in The Lakes?
If any Brit takes advantage of this to make a smutty gag, I shall be very, very disappointed.Quote:
Originally Posted by Gilliatt Gurgle
They won’t and I must say I’m proud of them for it. Oh sure, they noticed it left there on the bar like a page torn from 50 Shades of Grey stained with the tears of an old golden hen, but they only gave it a brief glance, shrugged their shoulders and immediately returned to that which is appropriate for a Brit; the discussion of ale.
I saw a perseid tonight.
A what?Quote:
Originally Posted by prendrelemick
I saw a Kingfisher yesterday. Fantastic blue. We have a brook near to us which runs through green belt land with trees and undergrowth. It's fantastic to see one here.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Here you go Paul..
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseids
The next few nights are peak viewing if you have clear skies.
Grab a lawn chair, blanket and flask, lay back and enjoy the show.
.
Quote:
Originally Posted by MarkBastable
It did put me in mind of spawning salmon.
Thanks Gil. My knowledge has increased. :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Gilliatt Gurgle
New washer came today. The door on the old one packed up, which is annoying as the engine etc has worked brilliantly for the six years we've had it. I originally ordered one from Argos, but they could have taken up to 35! days to deliver. Mrs Paulclem nearly had a fit at the prospect of going down to the brook every day and slapping the whites on the stones.
So we cancelled that one and ordered one online on Friday. It came today - free delivery. Brilliant.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
It's a roller-$^$*ing-coaster, your life, isn't it? Honestly, you and MrsP pack more thrills into a lifetime than most people are fortunate enough to experience in a fortnight.
(Incidentally, I have never seen a kingfisher. I wasn't entirely sure that they weren't mythical, like unicorns and Joan the Wad and Judas Priest fans.)
:DQuote:
Originally Posted by MarkBastable
I know. It's been a slow week. Next week - painting the conservatory and digging the allotment - again.
There's been a lot of of snobbery on the Olympic Mania thread. I suppose Emil's initial tone set the pace, but there's no end of posters who want to have a go at the lower end of the cultural spectrum.
I was going to give a long, frank and detailed explanation of what educational opportunities existed in Yorkshire in the 60s and 70s - pointing out where any of us could have caught the royal Ballet and opera - if we could have afforded it.
Mick said it all when he comented "What education?".
So I've come down to the club for a quiet pear cider and to declare that I've never liked ballet or opera, and I don't feel left out by the fact. :D
I'll get that Paul, and the same for myself, (or should that be me or I - I was never taught grammer) please Parker.
The thing that annoys me is the assumption that I don't like "high" art because I'm ignorant of it, rather than because it is not to my taste.
The mantra "I know what I like" is always ridiculed by cultural highbrows and called ignorance simply because they have no answer to it.
Excellent - A Gibbous Moon - sounds so poetical.Quote:
Originally Posted by Gilliatt Gurgle
Cheers. Most welcome.Quote:
Originally Posted by prendrelemick
I agree. Annoying it is. At least I don't have to pretend to appreciate anything.
I wasn't taught grammar either. I learnt it on the job as a teacher.
I think that in order to appreciate any art form, you have to understand its conventions and forms - the context in which it works - because all art is created in the tension between inspiration and form.
And to understand that stuff, you have to put the work in. So to 'get' ballet, you have to know enough about what all those moves 'mean' and how they ought to be done, and whether they are being done well.
And you're only going to put that work in if there's something that grabs you when you first encounter it. Me, I've never been in the least grabbed by ballet - or, actually, by any kind of dance. So I'm not prepared to put the work in - there are other things I'd rather do with my time. This is not to say that ballet is pointless or - actually - that it's more 'highbrow' than any other artform. It just means that there's nothing in it that appeals intrinsically to me.
The problem with Emil's position is that if, as he suggests, all rock music is rubbish, he has to come up with an explanation as to why a lot of highly-intelligent, articulate and art-savvy people like it so much and find value in it. His usual explanation is that we've all been brainwashed by the mass media and we're gullible victims of a huge scam. I don't think that's so - but then, if I were a brainwashed dupe, I would say that, wouldn't I?
I thought of Emil, actually, while I was watching the closing ceremony, and I thought, "The likes of Emil won't understand this at all - and given the purpose of the thing, I'm not sure that's fair. It ought to be easily accessible to him, and me, and my kids, and my mum, and Mo Farah's gran in Somalia."
Even within its own terms I thought it was pretty patchy, I have to say. So I'm not even going to defend it as a celebration of British popular music of the last fifty years.
^You've hit so many nails on the head you could've re-roofed pauls shed!
There is also the content to consider as well as the artform. I went to the ballet when The Northern Ballet was based in Halifax, It was fantastic. I went again to see something else and fell asleep. I love rock music - but not The Doors. I hate jazz - but like.. err..No, I hate Jazz.
But where does taste come from? why does something grab you in the first place.
I read somewhere that your brain is particularly open to music from around age 15 to around age 25, much as it is particularly receptive to language from toddlerhood to around age 12. (is toddlerhood a real word? El Sancho was dropped on his noggin more than once when he was a toddler.) At any rate, the theory was: most people tend prefer the music they listened to during their late teens - for the rest of their lives.
My dad still listens to Harry James and I'm still cranking Led Zeppelin. He still hates Zep, and hearing Harry James' trumpet makes me want to punt small animals.
I agree Mark. I looked into a bit of abstract art in a very patchy way, and came to see what Mondrian, for example, was trying to do. I like it more because of this, but still prefer representational art.
I have no problem with people who like what they like - ballet, opera, rock - it's really none of my business. I applaud people who go with what they like. What I don't like is the "my likes are better than your likes" attitude, particularly when it is well educated and sometimes priviledged people looking down on what they refer to as low culture. I'm afraid it does make my hackles rise somewhat. I shouldn't really as they are ridiculous in their prejudices, but I am aware that certain aspects of culture is really only open to a few. Sure anyone can go to an opera, but, as you said, there's the schooling in the forms and conventions needed. We didn't get that in school in Yorkshire in the 60s and 70s, and I doubt whether many do now.
It sounds plausible. Perhaps it's because at those ages we have strong life experiences which are imprinted with the msic at the time. I know as we raised the kids, we didn't have the music on so much.Quote:
Originally Posted by Sancho
Imprinted is a good word, but I think there's more to it than an association with important life events.* If I'm remembering the article correctly, it had to do with the developing brain, and the brain sort of wiring itself for a certain type of music during those years. Since the age range is fairly well along in brain growth, I'm thinking it's probably the prefrontal cortex that is being imprinted.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
I'm sorry I don't remember all the particulars, but I'm willing to bet it was a Discovery Magazine piece by neurologist Dr. Oliver Sacks. He's also got a very readable book out entitled, Musicophilia, all about music and the brain.
*events like finding yourself parked by a lake in 1972 Oldsmobile Delta 88 (her car), late on a Saturday night, both of you in the back seat, both of you mostly naked, Rod Stewart's Maggie May playing on the radio (her station), and wondering how can one guy be so lucky. I still like that song. A couple of years ago, my wife (La Roja) and I went to see Rod Stewart in Vegas, and voila, got lucky again. I'm thinking Mr. Stewart is a freaking aphrodisiac for women of a certain age. Also I've always felt a little guilty about the California Potato Chip I left on the vinyl upholstery of the Olds.
Ahh, the old guilt thing - pleasure must be followed by guilt! That potato chip (metaphor?) is your scourge.
I went to see Rod with a mate and two girls in the early seventies. The rejection afterwards has not put me off him.
I was trying to stay with the nostalgic flavor of the post by using 70s slang. I first heard a California Potato Chip described in Peter Benchley’s novel, Jaws. It’s kind of gross, but it goes something like this: when you and your special lady friend are swapping genetic material in the back seat of a car, some of it will inevitably drip onto the upholstery. If left unattended and if the seat happens to be vinyl, the next day as the car bakes in the hot sun, it will dry out and curl up into something resembling a potato chip. That’s where the slang falls apart across the pond. How about a Brighton Beach Crisp?
Also, Mick, what were you thinking, taking a girl with scruples to a Rod Stewart show?
^ That is everything I feared it would be. A Brighton Beach one would soon become fungal rather than crispy.
Worst of it was my mate was not disappointed ... and we could hear them!
I'm a bit behind.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Was it the painting comment that led to high art?
Who knows, now that you’ll be painting the Conservatory you may develop an appreciation for the high arts being around all those dancers and musicians.
Perhaps you can draw inspiration from Paolo Veronese’ frescoes.
A couple I think would go well with the allotment:
Prudence and Manly Virtue
http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/a...lleryofart.jpg
Nobleman in Hunting Attire
http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/a...lleryofart.jpg
We went for green again.Quote:
Originally Posted by Gilliatt Gurgle
It took a few hours - most of those shifting stuff around and painting the edges you can't get with the roller. I'm ahead with the jobs.
Alas, the old Auntie's cat has expired. Henry - my wife had begun to call him skeletor as he looked so old and rough - was about 17. He'd had a good life, fed mainly on chicken and tuna with the free run of the Old Auntie's house.
I got a call yesterday from my wife to go over. my duties were to dig the grave in the flower border whilst my wife and son took him to the vet. Apparently, the vet didn't even examine him, but just decided on the look of him.
So I've painted the conservatory and put up the new blind - twice, (you know the story - she didn't want it there).
I'm currently digging up my potato crop. it's been all putting in the ground and taking out over the last couple of days. :D
Ahh, Neo Minimalism.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Good call.
Sorry to hear the news about Henry, I suppose a fitting marker with proper epitaph is next on the list.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
How's the potato yield this year?
I was reminded of this. From a book...Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
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Looking through the kitchen window I could see the shed that Dad had built. The Condesa had been nagging for months about the bikes rusting in the side-return and the wheelbarrow being unsightly parked at the edge of the patio, so one day when she was out, Dad put the shed up as a surprise for her. When she got home he took her out to the garden, proud of his efforts. For a man who never really mastered scissors the successful erection of a shed was a remarkable and unprecedented achievement.
“It’s close outside the kitchen window, that ugly thing!” my mother said. “I don’t want to look at that all day!”
Dad bit his lip. “Well, it’s there now. I’m not going to move it.”
“Why not at the end of the garden where trees hide it?
“Look, you said you wanted a shed. You’ve got a bloody shed.”
“And the colour! So orange!”
“It’s new wood! That’s the colour new wood is! It’ll fade.”
This went on for about an hour. Actually, it went on for years. Whenever Dad mentioned how nice the garden was looking, the Condesa would say, “Yes, except your bloody ugly shed.”
I used to worry that my parents didn’t really like each other – they argued like this constantly. I didn’t know then that the terms of a relationship are a secret hex incomprehensible to any outsider.
Mmm mine was one of those cup and toothbrush holders. I put it above the middle of the sink when it obviously should've been on the right.
And another thing! When there is a job that needs doing why does she keep reminding me about it every six months?