Thorpe's ideas then all reverted to the merits of his own equipage, and she was called on to admire the spirit and freedom with which his horse moved along, and the ease which his paces, as well as the excellence of the springs, gave the motion of the carriage. She followed him in all his admiration as well as she could. To go before or beyond him was impossible. His knowledge and her ignorance of the subject, his rapidity of expression, and her diffidence of herself put that out of her power; she could strike out nothing new in commendation, but she readily echoed whatever he chose to assert, and it was finally settled between them without any difficulty that his equipage was altogether the most complete of its kind in England, his carriage the neatest, his horse the best goer, and himself the best coachman. "You do not really think, Mr. Thorpe," said Catherine, venturing after some time to consider the matter as entirely decided, and to offer some little variation on the subject, "that James's gig will break down?"
"Break down! Oh! Lord! Did you ever see such a little tittuppy thing in your life? There is not a sound piece of iron about it. The wheels have been fairly worn out these ten years at least - and as for the body! Upon my soul, you might shake it to pieces yourself with a touch. It is the most devilish little rickety business I ever beheld! Thank God! we have got a better. I would not be bound to go two miles in it for fifty thousand pounds." - Northanger Abbey
This bit always cracks me up, as I too have endured the car bore, a fearsome creature indeed, and predating the car, even, as is apparent. Boys and their toys.
From the Peanut Gallery, re the Heaven 17 CD/DVD set:
...follows the general rule of "the songs you loved stand up; the songs you could take or leave don't; the songs you don't remember at all... skip!". Chronology can be cruel, the endearingly lo-fi clip to the otherwise forgettable 'Sunset now' still has its charms but, in this context, it is embarrassingly obvious that the intention behind the clip is not 'proto-post-modern irony in the MTV age' so much as 'your sales no longer justify shutting down London's financial district to fill with hoardes of extras. Here's some cardboard cut-outs instead...'
Ouch. Correct, but oh so cruel...
Of course, thanks to Ashes to Ashes, one of my fave H17 tracks will forever be associated with Rupert Grave's naked arse. Oh dear.
Meanwhile, it's been a week. More yelling, and it's always the same old argument. I suppose they think if they keep it up I'll cave. So, what part of Capricorn are you byotches not getting? Harumph.
But last night was fun: mango salad with cracked pepper crusted steaks and some Silent Witness (I'm going through a minor Tom Ward flail at the moment and UKTV is feeding the flail with midday and evening repeats of various series). That was fun.
Also loved the Bones Xmas episode (well, the bits the IQ actually recorded). We were rolling about during that (that was noodle soup night).
Oh, and I think we're ahead in Wire in The Blood. As turnabout is fair play, that cannibal gets loose and kidnaps Tony. There, not making up for all those Dr who, Primeval, Torchwood, etc spoilers but the last time I had a scoop was when Dervla turned out the lights on BallyK.
Also watched House and Life. I like Life. It ain't great, but it doesn't put me to sleep, either. It's a serviceable little show in the crowded field of quirky cop shows. But what really made me squeal was an ad for Supernatural. It's back, baby, it's back!
Did not get to write much and evil computer ate some important and not backed up (natch), files. Grizzle.
It's funny that Boris Johnson won that comedy award because I was thinking this morning, having discovered that not even one of my fave museum pages is a Boris free zone, that at least he's amusing. Very amusing. Not that I'd vote him into high office in a pink fit, but as an impartial observer, he's very amusing. Okay, so the world does need more loony tories the way it needs other folks to make the world go round.
And, and they're ripping up my CPA membership card as I say this, I suppose one could do worse. Just look at poor old America. I mean, they totally did it to themselves, but still, trainwreck or what? Reminds me of when they first voted in Bush and I asked one of my dearest friends, as respectfully as I could, what the bloody hell were they thinking. Well, what's the worst that could happen, my dearest friend told me. Oh, beloved friend, where would you like me to start?
I mean, lets be honest now, it's not very good, is it. In times like these, well, it's traditional to finish off with a song:
London calling to the faraway towns
Now that war is declared-and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls
London calling, now don't look at us
All that phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust
London calling, see we ain't got no swing
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
London calling to the imitation zone
Forget it, brother, an' go it alone
London calling upon the zombies of death
Quit holding out-and draw another breath
London calling-and I don't wanna shout
But when we were talking-I saw you nodding out
London calling, see we ain't got no highs
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes
Now get this
London calling, yeah, I was there, too
An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!
London calling at the top of the dial
After all this, won't you give me a smile?
PM update: The bosses have all pissed off (long weekend) and we had cake. And now I'm gonna post it cause it's sweltering and it'll be too hot to get online at home tonight (sigh). Himself is having a bex and a lie down having braved the shimmering farmers market. Now I know why they never caught on here. Produce + heat wave = not good.
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