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 |   A place where everybody can feel easily offended - my head! |
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I'm gathering quite a collection of blogs. "Invalid Item"  is a bit-of-a-rant. I've got a big gob, and it would be a shame not to use it. "Invalid Item" is just that. It's the product of the bits of me mentioned above  filtered through my subconscious."Invalid Item" dealing with all things to do with battling sexes, especially exes.Want to know something trivial or obscure? Not really bothered about whether it's right or wrong, as long as it's believable? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WELCOME TO THE HUMAN GOOGLE!  I may never have mastered the art of tying shoelaces, but I win every time I play Trivial Persuit. Friends place bets on how many people I can, unintentionally, upset on a night out. I am the place where boundless enthusiasm meets embarrassing arrogance. Important Information - Please Read I realise some folk do not get Satire. I love a little baffoonery and believe, rather like the jesters of old, you can say quite a lot more than kings when people think you are an idiot. If you are literal minded, best not read on. If you can tell your arse from your elbow, and recognise when an attack isn't an attack then please read:
Heck, even if you can't tell your appendages from one another, read it anyway: who am I to tell you what you can do and what to take from my writing?  The XGC rating is due to the unknown content of many minds - it may be fluffy bunnies or....not! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Welcome to my world! Acme  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** http://twitter.com/acmetweet Skype me at acmetoo template thing-a-ma-bob: {c:green}Write{/c}: {c:green}Edit{/c}: {c:green}Kids{/c}: {c:green}Relationships{/c}: {c:green}Physical{/c}: {c:green}FFF{/c}: |
| Have you ever been regressed? Oh, I have more than enough trouble with the people I have inside me already but, having been hypnotised several times, I've often wondered if I should take that final step. I have issues though: I have an utterly insatiable appetite for history, so who's to say any regressed personality may be based on some distant exposure to a previously skim-read passage in the eighties? Hypnotised people have the amazing ability to recall details which would normally escape us (I've heard tales of get-a-way vehicle licence plates, recalled from the glances of ignorant eye-witnesses). What if I don't like the people I've been? I have this romantic notion of me being a member of some ancient military power, Xian Nu, or a Roman Piss Merchant, or an Academic Alchemist... what if I end up having been an Accountant  There is a book (sorry, I read and have no idea of the Authors I leave in my wake  ), which explores the idea of Dream Clues of our previous lives, being left as indicators of our previous lives; here's what I gleaned and now call the 'Acme take on that there authors idea-stuff': Go to sleep Wake up and remember your dream Were you a Chinese General, trying desperately to find the political words to convey to the General, "Oh, boy! We're in the cacky now, lads..." You were a Chinese mid-ranked officer, back from a scouting mission on the Mongol border. Easy  Go to sleep tonight and consciously make the decision to open your Astral Being up to the universe, in an attempt to glean information on your previous lives. Let me know how you get on (it's always good to know who you're talking to  )** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** We decked our halls with boughs of holly We bought in all the necessary spices for Mulled Wine (post Blog Treat)  We had our seasonal argument on 'How much is enough glitter?' (never enough!)  We got a take-away for tea   I got my invite to the Vicarage to meet the Bishop of Manchester (must not swear...) *check6* The mini-Acmes have opened door #1 on the Advent calendar Hubby is rush painting all those x-mas portrait commissions he told folk were, "No problem! You'll have 'em under your loved-ones tree before you can say 'Santa'!" So, why does it feel like I've forgotten something?  And then it hits me. My Dad's emigrated to Cyprus; he won't be around this year.Now, don't get me wrong; Dad and I aren't close, but we always knew we were an hour down the motorway... now he's not here and I found myself nearly in tears over zwisis's blog! She's posted the cheeriest, jolliest, Christmassiest blog in the universe, and I want to go over to house-sit and feed the Kedis for her whilst she's in Zimbabwe. Why? Well, because her house is nearer my Dad. I'm gonna miss the crotchety old fella, this year *sighs* You know when you come down from a sugar-rush? Maybe this is the downer of a glitter-rush Right-oh... Seasonal whinge !** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| It's gonna be Advent tomorrow I've put up the decorations (thanks zwisis!) and it's just ONE MORE SLEEP!!! How the heck am I going to stay calm during the glittery season... ?
and,
and,
all happen in the next few hours! AAAARRRRRRHHHHGGGGHHH! I love this time of cheer |
| So, today was going to be the day I met my friend, Nat's, new born baby boy! I was so excited! I made the Tuscan Bean Soup for our lunch, and took a Cherry Pie and Cream for our pudding, as well as making her some smoked salmon and cream cheese croissants to snack on whilst breast feeding. Oh, and keeping mother in mind, I also went to the chemist and picked up a prescription for her. He smelt wonderful; that loverly baby soft smell of goodness. I swear I got high from the baby fumes and all my naughty mummy hormones started screaming for me to find an Alpha Male, now! I'm a grandmother, though. So, they were soon over-ridden by thoughts of less sleep, less Bacardi, less sex, less clothes-that-fit... Well, I can tell you I've taken lots of pictures. Unfortunately, not of the new born, as for some reason it slipped my mind (probably Cherry Pie overdose). I took lots of pictures of village buildings Here's the village pub, and I'll tell you why it is what it is: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This three-storey type structure is called a 'Weavers Cottage'. Families would live in the bottom two floors and keep their cotton looms on the top floor for all their weaving. The introduction of the Industrial Revolution first aided their growth (the canal network brought access to new markets) and then crushed them as larger factories were built near the growing town communities. After that, Indian cotton became even cheaper to import and that was the end of the Weaver in his Cottage. A lot of them are now either large, comfortable private residencies or, pubs, like this one (which is on the look out for tennants...) There is nothing grander that Lancashire and Yorkshire in the wet. I felt compelled to take these pictures because of the wonderful colours that are present in the rain. The rough brown scrub and green moss of the moors always appear more vivid in the rain and set the stone work on these old buildings to toffee and fudge flavoured visions! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Oh, and the baby was cute too. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Righto! Been a tad busy again I have no idea what on earth I did on Thursday and Friday, only that what ever it was, took a lot of time... oh, and Ugly Betty was watched at some point... Saturday, was all about watching housework not get done. It was the church Christmas fete (the next seasonal reminder; before advent and after the Coca-cola add ). As a Youth Group Leader and a Sunday School helper (I'm the one in charge of the glitter! ), I went along to help run the Teddy Tombola and pump up the neon punch-balls (Baby Acme was in charge of putting teaspoon-fulls of red split lentils in them - good work that hobbit! ) I'd hoped to take some photos for the Blog, but it was such a busy event, I never got a chance. When not on lentil duty, Baby Acme had her face painted like a pink butterfly, ate pork, apple and chestnut stuffing rolls, sold balloons, cheated on the Tombola, and got to sit on Santa's knee. Saturday night may well have involved Bacardi... Sunday night certainly did! The Bacardi Divas re-scheduled their Monday night so we could meet one of members new boyfriends. Poor man, we are a cruel lot of women! Try to imagine the Desperate Houswives (all talking like Daphne from Frasier), and one poor, vulnerable, lone male (trying to make a good impression), who couldn't follow the rules... We are rotten, but then, our husbands know to get out of the way and let the Divas do what they do best... Diva!Monday was a new string to the Acme bow. I thought I'd put all the glitter knowledge and Youth Club experience to good use and haunt Acme Junior at Scouts. Now, please consider me an absolute newbie in this strange world of Uniforms, Neckers, Woggles and Dib-Dib-Dibbing (no; no-one has dared to offer me a pair of shorts and hiking boots yet ) I think the Scouts are a world-wide phenomenon, so you may know a heck of a lot more about this than poor ole me.Lord Bayden-Powel 'invented' the Scouts for boys. Then girls made Brownies and Guides (I was a Brownie, Pixie 6er, but left when I realised it was impossible to can-can in those A-line skirts). Well, hark at this! It's all mixed sex now (Hurrah for Emily Pankhurst!) and mixed faith (Hurrah for tolerance!) and they should actively encourage parental/community participation (Hurrah for Acme!). So, they let me get my glitter out and I had a wonderful time . I'll let you know how that develops.Received the news today that, unfortunately, I was not successful in my application for Administrative Assistant for a Mental Health Charity. Apparently, my ambition to be in the re-make of 'Ghostbusters', may have clashed with the post requiring a certain amount of flexibility of hours. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the following excerpt from interview: Head-Boss-Man: "What skills and abilities do you think you could bring to the Team?" Acme: "Well, apart from the fact I make a really good patsy for others to roll their eyes at, I think the skill to know what CD would naturally follow on from the current one at Staff dos and Christmas Parties, is pretty darn valuable. Oh, and no-one can 'Cry Milk' quite like I can!" I may well have gotten the job too, if I hadn't added my thoughts on the relative merits and de-merits of Stationary Theft... Ho-hum, you live and learn... Right, I'm off to stir my beans and crack open a bulb of garlic. Here's the recipe for the besterest ever Tuscan Bean Soup (God bless the Italians in my family!) Tuscan Bean Soup Ingredients 1 kg of Italian Plum Tomato 2 large onions 1 Pint Stock Crushed Black Pepper 2 Bay Leaf 1 handful of fresh Basil 1 bulb of garlic Tabasco Sauce to taste 500g Dried Exotic Bean Mix (soaked over night and rinsed) Rapid boil beans for 10mins. Simmer for 90 mins. Meanwhile, peel and chop the tomatoes and add to a pan of stock Bring to the boil and simmer with onions, garlic, pepper, herbs for 30 mins Allow to cool slightly, remove Bay Leaves and blitz til smooth in a blender Add a dash of Tabasco Sauce and put back on the heat Rinse the beans and add to the sauce Add more salt, pepper and Tabasco to taste Serve with a hot warm Ciabatta and a glass of fruity red ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Well, it's official... The Coke advertisement has played on telly, Christmas is on it's way  The kids are leaving the Argos catalogue strategically placed in odd places, the hubby is repeatedly asking if his 'bum looks big in this?', and my mother has sent out her elves to make 'must have' inquiries. That's all grand, but I love the other stuff more... Snow and sledges, mulled wine and mistletoe, carolers and candle-light, and my favourite the Christingle service at church! Our church is a big 18th century gothic mass of stone. It has stained-glass windows depicting wonderful scenes of awe and wonder, fancy pillars, ornate woodwork and alter, massive organ, and lofty domed ceilings, like a mini-Cathederal. I love my church building and Christingle is the best time to see it in.If you're not familiar with a Christingle service, here's a run down: A church at night-time, full of candle-light, the smell of oranges and the voices of children raised in song. Cold, winter, winds pushing at the bare-branches of trees against the stained-glass, and the warm and rosy faces of children celebrating their beliefs, in their service. No pompous priest or, shouted sermon here! Only, children's prayers offered to heaven, and children's readings, children's joy, children's faith. Even for my family's non-believers, they love the empowerment this particular service gives to the children involved. It really is a breath-taking scene, and one of the reasons I love this time of year so much. Our Christingle is just under a month away, but you just know I'll have some photo's to share if I can! en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christingle |
| There is a tendency to see most writers as paranoid, melodramatic, 'artistic-types'; well, it's no wonder why! Those over-active imaginations can come up with all-sorts of conspiracy theories Let's have a go at de-bunking the myths and frightful stereotypes Here's a little look at some circumstances where Plagiarism, isn't Plagiarism, at all: The Homage Fictional Example: An author of 'Fishing Manuals', wishes to encourage others in this field to produce, display proudly, and highlight the genre. In doing so, this will boost the awareness of those on the Fishing.Com website to become interested in the genre; thus, generating an appetite in readership, improving the reading resources of visitors, and also, reward, award and acknowledge all those unsung heroes of the Fishing Manual world The author creates a 'Fishing Manual Contest' . Several rounds later an angler pops in an entry. The entry is judged against it's peers, reviewed thoughtfully and with in-depth commentary, aimed to assist. The angler thinks they could do much better and goes and creates the 'Fish-Catching Manual Contest'...WARNING: This is NOT 'plagiarism' this is 'homage' The Composite Fictional Example: A contest Judge for 'Architectural Planning Gone Wild!' has requested entries that follow the guidelines: NEW and previously unawarded stories only. New means written for this contest. We want to challenge you... so it must be new work.* An Entry has been submitted by an author, we shall call, 'X'. This entry alerts one of the judges as a possible winner! It's very well written, has good pace, plot, characterisation, hits the prompt and delivers some wonderful moments of Architectural Planning However, this is a far cry from the previous Round's entry, in which the author couldn't find his 'commas' with his 'ellipsis', and jumped tense so often the reader became familiar with the basic concepts of Time-Travel...Upon further inspection, this piece has been badly abused by 'cut and paste', has the same 'created' date and time as 'last modified on', and when googled (accidentally), magically appears in an Indonesian Architects Article X's entry has a note which reads: Author's Notation: ____________________________________________________ This piece was written as an entry to the 'Architectural Planning Gone Wild! Contest. The contest provided a visual prompt in the form of a picture of a beautiful couple of chocolate brown buildings engaged in a truly structural moment. The contest asked that the piece developed deal with blue-prints of some kind of materials that would trigger the creation of a construction moment between the couple. I chose concrete as the material trigger to be constructed on. The picture inspired the creation of a piece that starts off in the Architectural genre and takes a bit of a cross-over into the soft-furnishings/interior design genre. ** Well, the silly judge is concerned that 'foul-play' may have occurred against X, so sends a private email inquiring "Who wrote this?" "This is a composite of notes and excerpts from my readings." is the reply. Ah-ah! So, when he wrote 'Author's Note', he really meant 'Reader's Note' WARNING: This is NOT 'plagiarism' this is 'composite' On Behalf Of... Fictional Example: A friend of mine also 'googles' their contest entries; by accident. One of their latest Rounds saw an entry which sounded familiar, a search and came up with the exact same story by a different author. My friend emailed the second one and she said that she didn't mean to enter it in the contest, that she had not plagiarized it but simply "copied it into her port so she could make changes to it as part of an English class assignment". She told my friend she hadn't actually plagiarized it from the other author, but from an author on a different site ( how embarrassing!) Evidently they both stole posted it on behalf of him! Sadly, unless the original author complains, nothing can be done. Since this one was dead there is an area of doubt as to whether much complaining could be undertaken.WARNING: This is NOT 'plagiarism' this is 'on behalf of...' *for purposes of this example I have 'borrowed' this particular rule from "Invalid Item" , which is a particularly GOOD, WELL RUN, and CAREFULLY JUDGED contest. If you are a writer who chooses to follow the 'Homage', 'Composite', or 'On Behalf Of...' school of thought, you would be wise not to post an entry here  **for the purposes of this example I have 'borrowed' this particular excerpt from an original work by X. I'm quite sure he won't mind as, when I asked him "Who wrote this?" his answer was, "This is a composite of notes and excerpts from my readings." |
Murder On the Huddersfield Express... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** What a motley crew, eh? Bertie Rooster, his Aunt, Dame Agatha Rooster, Penelope Pitt-Pony, Sister Wendy Miller, Arthur 'Fiddler' Farquar' and Mustapha Mustache... Of course, you can't see the famous American Journalist, May Vest, as I'm taking the picture Who dunnit...? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hubby (Arthur Farquar), was proudly sat between the Nun and the Dame, and took every opportunity available to extol the virtues of Kilt wear on these poor virtuous women. As the only American accent I can attempt is based on Sheriff Pepper, from 'Diamonds are Forever', I think I did rather well as a Southern Belle. Unfortunately, I was slightly overpowering with it and poor hubby would say 'Hoots Mon, Och-aye-the-noo' like the KFC Colonel... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Poor Mustapha, had been cast last minute, and kept slipping into an Irish Accent (he had assumed all week he would play Paddy O'Lay, Bookie), but Bertie and Dame Agatha stole the show as battling bachelor versus battle-axe maiden aunt. At the end of a wonderful three course meal, and much scattering of clues, we all took it in turn to point the accusatory finger across the table. Hubby must just look suspicious as every one pointed to him, including the murderer, who escaped any accusations of foul play. Who was this cold-blooded killer? Why, Acme, of course! HURRAH! |
We have ten mins before we're due out the door (this coincides with the Scotland v Italy football match on the telly) As you can see by our attire  , it's the night of the Murder Mystery Dinner Party; I have put pencils in my hair so everyone can tell I'm a writer... Hubby's love of Scottish Soccer is usually non existent, but since donning his ginger wig and tartan, he's become a patriotic arm-chair supporter. Shouting at the pretty Italian boys and doing impromtu jigs... mmm - and yes, he's chosen to go for the authentic underwear I'm incredibly proud of myself, as I've spent the afternoon sewing that bloomin' kilt (ok - just hems, but still it is sewing). I tried desperately to remember the scene in Braveheart which demonstrated the procedure for turning a picnic blanket into clothes, and I'm pleased with the results I'll see if I can get piccies of the other guests for tomorrows entry Best go and commit hideous crimes against Agatha Christie!Hugs, Acme and Hubby ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Do you have any idea how bloomin' hard it is to find anything tartan...? (Yes, including slippers). The Hubby and I have been invited to a Murder Mystery dinner party at the weekend. My character is called 'May Vest'; she's an American author, with a scathing wit, who wears a loom full of velvet and scarf fabric (type-cast? More like 'fire hazzard'...)Hubby is to be 'Arthur Fiddler Farquar'; cousin of the murdered man, recently arrived in London society and a little out of his depth. His costume suggestion is for Tartan everything, with a ginger wig under a Tam O'Shanter cap... aside from somewhat racist stereotypes; they don't allow such imports across the Scottish/English border. Customs officials seize them as 'national heritage treasures'... Well, I found him an equally flammable wig and cap in the town's joke shop (you'll be pleased to know, having thought about purchasing the 'Comedy Dog Mess', I stayed mission focused and just bought the wig). I love joke shops I really do have a very base and infantile humour at times, and these places are like a Mecca for the prank side of me. Itching powder, whoopee cushions, finger-in-a-box, boot-blacked-eye-glass... I swear, I want them all utilised at my memorial service...Anyway, I just started to blog to let you know I'm excited about being let out in public this weekend. I'm gonna smuggle my camera phone in to the do and post the terrible criminal evidence for you afterward. That way, you can play along at home and guess 'who done it' too! Hugs, Acme |
| I'm the kind of mother who sends children to school with broken bones and tells them; "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger", "stiff upper-lip!", and (my favourtie), "where's your Dunkirk spirit!" Well, that's what I try to be like. There used to be a dog trainer on British telly, when I was a kid, called Barbera Woodhouse, and I always thought the 'Firm Hand; Enthusiastic Reward' method of training would be suitable for children too... I'm really one of those, "Did that naughty table give you a boo-boo? BAD TABLE, NAUGHTY TABLE!", mothers... Finding the balance is so bloomin' hard. Acme Jnr (because she's technically the prototype of my progeny) will have the most to relate to the phychatrist's couch. Baby Acme will probably fair much worse because of it. You see; Acme Jnr, is incredible 'Barbera Woodhouse' to herself, and very independent. Baby Acme (thanks to me)is fast becoming a Veruca Salt. The thing is she's my baby and I have an urge to protect her from something. BA doesn't like school. Now, consider that Acme Jnr could read at the age of two, wanted to have a doctorate in Archeology by four and could play guitar, keyboard and cornet by age 7 - she's a mini Hermione Granger. Baby Acme is 5, she can't read, but is an incredible artist (pottery and paints), is very dexterous (gross motor skills that I would die for), can wash up and make her own sandwiches, and is a natural comedian. So, all this is in your head, right? Right. It made perfect sense to send them to different schools... Jnr's school was open planned Choose-Your-Own-Learning based suited her down to the ground and she is expected to end up with higher than above average SATS.BA was sent to the local 'Victorian-Built-All-Face-The-Teacher-And-LEARN!'... great! Until they knocked it down and built a state-of-the-art school which doesn't quite work that way . They also moved her into a class room, away from the few good friends she started to make. BA is a creature of habit and routine, I've watched her learn to dread going to school. From the bright, eager child, sneakily changing her clothes in the middle of the night, and sleeping in her school uniform; she has become more and more distant and miserable. She cries every morning (trying really hard to not look like she is so the other kids don't pick on her), and this morning she said she thought it might be nice to die, rather than go to school... she's just turned 5.Well, BA is not Veruca Salt, she is my baby, and she is in pain. I went to see Jnr's headmaster this morning and pleaded with him to admit BA mid-term, she starts next Monday. I'll tell her tonight. My hope is that she'll be excited to have a brand new uniform, just like she used to be all those distant weeks ago. Now! Where's the Parental Training Manual gone... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| ...I'd have to find a lot more room in the garden What a fantastic day! First, I get a monkey (see previous entry), and now I get humorous verse in my email Check out this lovely gift from THANKFUL SONALI Now What?  :For Acme, Kaya says Send something to brighten the days Send a little funny verse Something that fits in a purse So now I'm attempting to write And you see my plight I'm not achieving anything remotely comic What rhymes with comic? You pick. You're not laughing! Please do Not 'coz I'm funny but 'coz Kaya wants you to! As for me, my meter's gone haywire And my rhyming, a little something does require In the mire? From the squire? Liar, liar? Please, please, Acme, let's have a laugh When reading silly poems, take the smooth with the rough (Even if it's tough) Because otherwise Kaya's gonna think That nobody met her wish in the wishes-link (Then she'll blink) Suddenly, my verses have changed from two lines to three It's time to stop and let you be! See? See?  - Sonali How flippin' marvelous is that? (not to mention the beautiful email Lauriemariepea  sent me of the lovely Ming |
Not really...  Just received a lovely gift from Kaya, who basically said she saw the following image and thought of me - It's probably the most flattering thing than anyone has compared me to. Shakespear can keep his roses; I got me a MONKEY!* ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** *don't tell Nana Lena; she thinks it's bad luck to mention 'em. They're kinda like the Voldemort of the Gypsy World... |
zzzzzzzzzzzzz  All I've done today is slob about WDC. I don't know how my NaNoWriMo buddies cope with all that writing, I just can't concentrate... I set fire to a pan of rice at tea-time... Still, I made lemonade and used my inability to write to catch up on some reviewing and playing the 'fix it wish fairy' I can't remember the last time I had such fun... ... No. Wait... Hallowe'en was a blast. Besides that; I had a great time here:
Gonna try and write a shopping list, now! (new pan, more rice, etc.) ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Just popped over to take a peek at SouthernDiva 's blog and followed her lead in picking out a daily Tarot Card - guess what? I'm the same as the lovely ljkam! ***You Are The High Priestess*** You represent mystery - secrets that are yet to be revealed. You find yourself sitting between two worlds: one dark, one light. You tend to hold these two worlds in balance, reconciling the two. Open and welcoming, you invite others to learn your secrets. Your fortune: Something hidden, or latent, in your life is about to come forward. You need to pay more attention to your dreams, thoughts, intuition, and imagination. And if that involves tapping into your dark side, it will all balance out in the end. You have a lot of potential dying to be unleashed, so let those gates open! What Tarot Card Are You? http://www.blogthings.com/whattarotcardareyouquiz/ |
| Ever get those days where you forget to put your pants on? I'm having a vacant one today. I'm pretty sure I should be doing something, but once again the call of the DVD player has erased what ever it was from my thoughts. I seriously think it may have something to do with my diet You see, I'm the kind of person who had never had the slightest urge to climb a mountain; but you could bet that if my legs fell off and I couldn't, I'd be having a right good go at 'Everest Tours!' for not letting me become a Sherpa. Well, food's a bit like that. I really fancied some salad stuff (not the rabbit eating variety - the Subway, with everything kind). So, my fridge is bursting with wholesome, good-for-you, goodies... and I want to eat lard Subsequent rebellious thought led me to lizco252's marvelous contest:
So, if 'good' intentions pave the road to hell; does that mean that 'bad' ones build a staircase to heaven? |
No - I didn't run off an join the Circus  The only role they had vacant was The Human Cannon Ball; not with this 'fro! So Monday was all about a celebration of unsuccessful terrorism - Guy Fawkes. Remember, remember the 5th of November; Gunpowder, Treason and Plot. I see no good reason, why Gunpowder Treason, Should ever be forgot. I'm not too sure if you're familiar with "Invalid Item" , but I was quite surprised that I managed to procure some fireworks, and host my own  Spectacular Display! . Hubby and the children were very sensible and stayed indoors to 'keep warm'... I had on gloves, glasses, hat and scarf. I stood the requisite 'arms length' from the fuse, and retreated to a 'safe distance. I'm soooooo proud of me! The only casualty for the night was the heat scorched, lover's chair, which had the Catherine Wheel attached to it!In deference to Castor, I did tell the kids about the infamous torture method from whence it got it's name; they LOVED it! Then Tuesday was Writing Class, with a small display of leftover fireworks aimed at my car by the neighbourhood urchins (gawd bless 'em) Wednesday, just sort of evolved into today, and so here I am BOUND, GAGGED, MADE TO EAT POT NOODLES, AND GENERALLY KIDNAPPED! If anyone does feel like saving me (truly optional ) they can contact my kidnappers here:
Gonna plan how to solve this global warming thing, whilst I await rescue. Toodle-Pip! Acme ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I've just deleted the entire entry....ggggrrrrrr. Chin up! I'll try to recall it all Send in the Clowns! I wished I lived in a caravan, with a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man. Where he comes from nobody knows, nor where he goes to, but on he goes. His caravan has windows; two, with a chimney of tin that the smoke comes through. He has a wife and a baby; brown, and they go riding from town to town. Chairs to mend and delf to sell; he clashes the basins like a bell. Trays, baskets, ranged in order, plates, wit the alphabet round the boarder. The roads are brown and the sea is green, but his house is just like a bathing machine. The world is round but he can ride, rumble and splash to the other side. With the pedlar-man I should like to roam, and write a book when I get home. All the people would read my book, just like the Travels of Captain Cook traditional, anon. Nana Lena would tell us this poem at bedtime. Usually, as an antidote to scaring the hell out of us with tales of black-market elephant meat, freshly 'procured' by chainsaw at the Blackpool Tower Circus - ever thought how folks got the carcass of a huge beast like that out of underground pen? Well, lets just say hatchets were more readily available than chainsaws during Blitz Britain. Apparently, the old performer had died of natural causes... I can't vouch for the truth of this tale; but we gypsy stock kids lapped it up! See, The Circus was something very special to our family. We were actually fair-ground folk; the ones with the coconut shies, candy floss, dart boards, tin cans and find-the-lady. Circus was something special. Somewhere for the shinning lights of an age of death-defying skill and entertainment. It was horrifying to see some circus people abusing the animals in their care, (a court case followed on from a BBC documentary), and rightly so! I grew in to my teenage years and developed a political awareness in the 80's. I became a veggie and stood my ground with placards in protests. Part of me cried a thousand tears for The Circus which I had loved - but most of me vilified it, because of the actions of a minority of animal rights abusers. The Circus faltered. It got rid of it's animals and looked at the amazing physical gifts that humanity had been given. 'Cirque' grew as an art form in Europe as it re-invented itself, but the the old family run ones still tried to capture the hearts and imaginations of modern children. Too little too late, perhaps. Those 80's protesters are now the middle-aged mothers of their own children and grandchildren. Are they hesitant of taking their kids to The Circus because of the old stigma attached? I don't know. However, last night I went back. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** It was amazing! I was back to where The Circus had been lost in my heart. I could have run away with them, there and then! Watching my girls faces 'ooh' and 'aah' in all the right places, was a gift that I will treasure forever. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Mum, I don't want to be a Ninja Spy anymore," said Baby Acme, with excitement. "I want to do that!" "Mum?" Acme Jnr questioned, thoughtfully. "Once I've finished university and become an Archaeologist, can you sell me to the Gypsies?" "Of course I can!" I beamed. "Wow - that Russian's pretty nubile..." hubby whimpered. "Yes, dear." ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Oh, my - time flies at Hallowe'en! Here's where I've been (instead of blogging ) 29th - Bacardi Diva meeting *hic* after closing Acme's Comedy Scream Hallowe'en one shots, putting out poll for the Spook-tator Group, and notifying judges of judging criteria 30th - Judging and judging and judging - followed by... judging 31st - Trick-or-Treating with kids! This year we went to a party at a Garden Centre and the 10year old had a touch of the imagination hysterics (haunted walk through a spooky old cotton mill ) 1st - Church meetings (youth group workshops & All Saints) 2nd - Stuff... (lazy Acme! ) 3rd (today) - Extreme 'Blog Guilt', assuaged by letting the planet know all my excuses Saturdays are very odd at our house. The kids go swimming with the local amateur club, and you may remember me mentioning Baby Acme's love of the water and all things Mermaid... Not now! Poor BA was convinced that she could breathe under water, if she just believed enough (thanks Disney). After being fished out, vomiting water and a good ole cry, she's decided that she doesn't want to be a Mermaid any more. She is now going to become a 'Ninja Spy'. I told her to get back in and learn to swim; even Ninja Spies have to learn how not to drown... She soon got over it and was back to her fishy self. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I didn't go to church today. I couldn't. I didn't want to look an idiot turning up 2hrs late (or early) I get confused every spring and autumn. Yes; I know the rhyme:    Spring forward; Fall back The farmer likes to cut the slack Knowing it isn't the same as 'getting' it. I have a hard time remembering to put pants on in the morning, never mind feed children, drive cars, brush teeth (in any order). To find a bleary-eyed Acme in charge of time keeping is not a good thing. This autumn I would be ready for Mr. Clever-clogs-daylight-savings! (well, I thought I would...) The clocks go back at 2am Hubby puts them back at 11pm, before retiring to bed Acme puts them back at 12am, before retiring to bed (unaware of helpful Hubby) I wake up feeling surprisingly refreshed to find it only 9am I congratulate my cleverness with "5 more minutes" as church starts at 10.30am My oversleeping headache gets me up at 10am - no worries! 15 mins is fine to get gone... WoopsThe heathen stays home and hits WDC, with a burning need to confess her time management sins to her Blog. Lord help us when Spring arrives... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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