Bunting is compulsory

Bunting and frolic abounds in the nation as Royal Wedding fever grips one half of the population and a virulent mood of "sod the wedding" grips the other. This is all too evident in Helminthdale Town Hall where many of the offices are ostentatiously undecorated by Union Flags while some mad enclaves are packed to the gunnels with Franklin Mint figurines of West Highland terriers with flags and roses in their mouths.

Street parties are compulsory, especially outside The Monkey's Arms where this is business as usual most nights from eight in the morning when the chemist's shop starts selling meths and Night Nurse. Lubianka Avenue will be hosting the gala parade featuring, inevitably, Year Six of St. Barrabas' Free School And Call-Me-Dave Academy, who will be providing a picturesque tableau float representing "The Rôle of the Cold Sore Through The Ages."

A good time shall be had by all. Especially me 'cos I'll be staying in bed well out of it.

Thursday singalong

Some posts we missed

Madame De Farge was asking about the whereabouts of the post titles I haven't used in the other blog. I may be using some of them for the secret history, but I thought I might share a few from the lucky bag once every so often. Here's a random selection.

• Plagued by spider kittens
• A flash of masculine idiocy
• Just like Nelson did at the Battle of Waterloo
• Could you give a loud whistle just in case anything cracks
• If this works I'll be known as somebody with healing feet
• In the line of duty I've had to put things up people's noses
• Did he actually say: "Ahoy there!"?
• On passing lilac urine
• Prince Philip said: "Get your finger out!" and that cut us to the quick
• The Jane From Hell's Kitchen
• Kindly Omit Flowers

Things what grown-ups do

An occasional series. Part one of the list:

• Have a "who can do the dance from 'Tales Of The Unexpected'" competition when they should be getting ready for work.
• Missing the traffic lights changing because they're having an eyebrow wiggling contest
• Sulking after being accused of eating the last of the Tangfastics even though it's absolutely untrue and somebody else entirely ate them and passed on the blame.

All things have their season?

The advice for story tellers was to start at the beginning and carry on until you get to the end and then finish. The more I read the last post in the other blog the more it feels like the last post in the other blog. It just feels right.

In many ways this is a good time to stop it. The story's become harder to tell, for reasons I've outlined before, and to be honest my heart's not in it any more. These are dangerous times, as usual, but whereas in the past the taking of the risks added a frisson to the game, these days it's just another layer of boredom on top of the same old same old...

I think that's the top and bottom of it: I'm bored shitless with it all. There are fresh new challenges, which look all too much like the same old challenges not even dressed up to disguise it a bit. And the deathless dramas are the same old deathless dramas we've repeated oh so very many times before. There may be a different number of people chasing a different number of chairs but when the music stops it's still the same old parlour game.

So I think I'll stop it there. I may change my mind but until I do I'll put those energies into making a better fist of keeping in contact with the blogosphere than I have been doing.

I'll still be posting to this blog; it serves a different purpose again.

A grand day out

A day at the seaside. Liverpool's full of characters going to Aintree. It's a poor do when I fancy a Merseyrail driver, though to be fair, he's the spit image of Sophia Loren.

Nostradamus of the 'phone

Fighting a losing battle with the predictive text on the 'phone.

Apologies to anyone startled by references to "nuts warmed gently in love oil."