A homage to loading screens.
Or, what to do if you find yourself trapped by an evil inventor with a passion for marine life
“Behold!” cried the Evil Villain Scientist, his voice screeching and cracking with excitement. “My latest invention, the invention which will let me take over the WORLD! They thought I was mad! They said it couldn’t be done! They said it would break the laws of physics! But here I have it! The Marine Life Invisibility Ray!!!”
In which we discuss local things, and eat pancakes
A few different things on my mind today, none of which are worthy really of a full post.
In which we are delighted by music and storytelling
Since we moved here, we’ve been promising ourselves that we’ll get Out And About, go to lots of local events, be actively artistic, and so on. And, well, we haven’t quite managed it. We’re doing better than we used to; we go to more things than we ever did before we moved; but the calendar still isn’t quite as full as we’d like.
In which we celebrate
Wednesday night was New Year’s Eve; and, for once, we went out. Counting on my fingers, I worked out, it must be about seven or eight years since I last went out to an event on New Year’s Eve, rather than just pop round to a graveyard or a friend’s house. Last year, I remember very clearly where I was at midnight: in bed, ill, groaning and wishing the bloody fireworks and cheering would shut up.
In which we tell a tall tale
There once was a teacher, who went by the name of Miss Swing. She was a very good teacher, popular with her children, who were all well-behaved and scored very well on all the tests they took. All the parents at parents’ evening either wanted to be her or be with her, and all her colleagues knew she was wonderful in the classroom, the best teacher the school had.
Or, the conclusion
This is the final part. If you need to catch up, here is part one, and part two.
Or, the story continues
If you need to catch up, part one is here.
Or, the start of a tale
There was once a man, who was a talented carpenter. He just had to touch a piece of wood to know how it could be worked, how it might split, how it would behave under his tools. He started off as a little village carpenter, making furniture and doors for the people of his village.
In which we tell a story and hear a funny noise
Writing about the things that the staff say over in Another Part Of The Forest has reminded me of an old folk tale I read once, in a book of English “village fool” stories. I can’t find the book right now, so I’ll do my best to retell it.
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