Hello all
I was just wondering what you will all be doing for Valentines day. . . . Lizzie and I will be having a quiet night having a nice indoor picnic (just to make a meal at home slightly different!).
What are the rest of you all up to?
Valentines Day
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Mike
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Valentines Day
Mike
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BarcelonAl
- Master of the South Wind
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Despite being single, I am refusing to let Valentines Day send me into a fit of depression, therefore I am treating myself to 'Blokey Day'.
I shall be cooking myself a curry from scratch using a recipe from one of Jamie Oliver's cook books, which I expect will be *mockney accent* pukka and well nice *end mockney accent*. This I shall enjoy with a glass (or two) of beer, whilst watching Top Gear and then settling down to Goodfellas on dvd.
Hopefully next Valentines Day I will have someone to pamper and spoil, but as long as I have my friends, my health and a (non-dripping) roof over my head then I don't think I have any right to complain!
Enjoy Valentines Day everyone.
I shall be cooking myself a curry from scratch using a recipe from one of Jamie Oliver's cook books, which I expect will be *mockney accent* pukka and well nice *end mockney accent*. This I shall enjoy with a glass (or two) of beer, whilst watching Top Gear and then settling down to Goodfellas on dvd.
Hopefully next Valentines Day I will have someone to pamper and spoil, but as long as I have my friends, my health and a (non-dripping) roof over my head then I don't think I have any right to complain!
Enjoy Valentines Day everyone.
Nothing says "romance" like a kidnapped injured woman!
Well, asides from us needing to call Dyno-Rod out this evening (don't even ask):
I've had a nice bit of plaice (not had fish in ages, 'twas yummy), and I intend to chill out, look at some art at conceptart.org, do a bit of exercise, then read some poetry, maybe some Tony Harrison (thanks Claire!) and some random stuff, then a bit of Carol Ann Duffy. Dreamy. Here's the poem I had in mind:
Words, Wide Night
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this
is what it is like or what it is like in words.
Carol Ann Duffy (b.1955)
I can't really describe how fond I am of that poem. Sad, dreamy, whimsical, it's all good. I'm tempted to end this with a semi-compulsory cynical note, but I don't feel like it any more after that...
Edit: plus I didn't do anything stupid for the occasion, despite being tempted. Yay me!
I've had a nice bit of plaice (not had fish in ages, 'twas yummy), and I intend to chill out, look at some art at conceptart.org, do a bit of exercise, then read some poetry, maybe some Tony Harrison (thanks Claire!) and some random stuff, then a bit of Carol Ann Duffy. Dreamy. Here's the poem I had in mind:
Words, Wide Night
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this
is what it is like or what it is like in words.
Carol Ann Duffy (b.1955)
I can't really describe how fond I am of that poem. Sad, dreamy, whimsical, it's all good. I'm tempted to end this with a semi-compulsory cynical note, but I don't feel like it any more after that...
Edit: plus I didn't do anything stupid for the occasion, despite being tempted. Yay me!
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My annual NYE song
My annual NYE song
as many of you would probably be able to guess even if your exposure to my personality has only been fleeting, i am a deeply bitter and cynical person and on valentine's day in particular an accute sense of isolation and jealously descends. however, inspired by john's approach to what is a lonely day for many of us across the world, i present to you my own favourite poem on the subject of love:
O Tell Me The Truth About Love - WH Auden
Some say that love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round,
And some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pajamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does it's odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway-guides.
Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summer-house;
it wasn't ever there:
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all it's time at the races,
Or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of it's own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my shoes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
i've loved auden for many years and think the last stanza in particular is worthy of note, but i would also like to share this with you because i cannot shake the sadness that valentine's day signifies, but think this poem is the perfect sum of a love lost;
Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
O Tell Me The Truth About Love - WH Auden
Some say that love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round,
And some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pajamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does it's odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway-guides.
Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summer-house;
it wasn't ever there:
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all it's time at the races,
Or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of it's own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my shoes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
i've loved auden for many years and think the last stanza in particular is worthy of note, but i would also like to share this with you because i cannot shake the sadness that valentine's day signifies, but think this poem is the perfect sum of a love lost;
Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
I came, I saw, I bought the T-shirt
Claire, you made me chuckle. Thankyou m' dear, succint as ever.
You also get the bonus word prize for using maudlin. However, I use prize more in the non-existent sense, in that I'll consider still speaking to you after that navel-gazing comment. Out of curiosity, if for some reason you don't die a spinster, would you celebrate Valentine's day with your partner, or still ignore it? Let's throw that out as an open question, whilst I go drink from my saucer of milk...
You also get the bonus word prize for using maudlin. However, I use prize more in the non-existent sense, in that I'll consider still speaking to you after that navel-gazing comment. Out of curiosity, if for some reason you don't die a spinster, would you celebrate Valentine's day with your partner, or still ignore it? Let's throw that out as an open question, whilst I go drink from my saucer of milk...
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My annual NYE song
My annual NYE song
Yes, that was very clumsy on my part. Trust me when I say that I over-analyse sometimes until I'm lost, and end up posting things anyway. What you quote was meant to come across as knowingly mystified. It really needs verbal inflection to do it properly, and even then can be mis-inferred (this does make me look a fool, doesn't it?), so let me make it clear by adding the implied part:
"if for some reason [such as being intelligent, funny and cute, perhaps?] you don't..."
My apologies, Claire.
Onwards: I wouldn't say peer pressure would force you to be miserable on Valentine's Day, but I suppose it does bring things into contrast, and some people are vulnerable to things like that. Everyone can rest assured that I didn't cry into my plaice, and I read that poem regardless of time of year.
I wonder, has nobody ever tried to start a celebratory "Singles Day"? Then again, I suppose that's what the other 364 days of the year are for...
"if for some reason [such as being intelligent, funny and cute, perhaps?] you don't..."
My apologies, Claire.
Onwards: I wouldn't say peer pressure would force you to be miserable on Valentine's Day, but I suppose it does bring things into contrast, and some people are vulnerable to things like that. Everyone can rest assured that I didn't cry into my plaice, and I read that poem regardless of time of year.
I wonder, has nobody ever tried to start a celebratory "Singles Day"? Then again, I suppose that's what the other 364 days of the year are for...
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My annual NYE song
My annual NYE song
I thought I'd better be on the safe side, just in case, but at least you got a compliment out of it, albeit in a roundabout sort of way (just don't get too used to them coming from me).
And for those idly watching this thread, this is why you shouldn't write certain things when they require inflection for the meaning to be clear. For instance, Claire's second to last post was terribly unclear in tone, causing unnecessary concern on my part, and the forced egestion of an apology, with compliment. Note how a so-called "smiley" could have been used to set the tone more clearly. Shocking.
Well, that ended okay (it was beginning to remind me of that time in first year I remarked on Liz's curly hair in Baitey's and she quickly left, somewhat upset: that was defintely a "wtf!?" moment, especially when you consider she does have curly hair). Phew.
And for those idly watching this thread, this is why you shouldn't write certain things when they require inflection for the meaning to be clear. For instance, Claire's second to last post was terribly unclear in tone, causing unnecessary concern on my part, and the forced egestion of an apology, with compliment. Note how a so-called "smiley" could have been used to set the tone more clearly. Shocking.
Well, that ended okay (it was beginning to remind me of that time in first year I remarked on Liz's curly hair in Baitey's and she quickly left, somewhat upset: that was defintely a "wtf!?" moment, especially when you consider she does have curly hair). Phew.
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My annual NYE song
My annual NYE song
mr_e wrote:And for those idly watching this thread, this is why you shouldn't write certain things when they require inflection for the meaning to be clear. For instance, Claire's second to last post was terribly unclear in tone, causing unnecessary concern on my part, and the forced egestion of an apology, with compliment. Note how a so-called "smiley" could have been used to set the tone more clearly. Shocking.
wtf is going on? 
i hate considering the tone of these posts, it makes my brain hurt :?In short: I thought I had offended Claire, but it turns out I hadn't.
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My annual NYE song
My annual NYE song