Bignjuicy

Dear Mr Architect
Please can I have a wall like this.
Love drD Linky

If curved red and shiny doesn’t work for you then there are other options over at Surface View. For £75m² they will print you some sexy imagery as a sort of bespoke wallpaper come mural. Could catch on. Remember Hilda Ogden’s muriel? What goes round…

Career change?
Why not become a LEGO certified professional?
Yes Lego, the bricks. Apparently, there’s a ‘Lego Community’ too.
If you don’t quite make the professional grade you could always be a Lego Ambassador. [ I wonder if they have receptions with plates of hard plastic model chocolates? ]

I’m posting this from my ‘new’ PC which has enough processing power to undertake a return trip to Gliese 581C [ catchy name ] and still have change left over for a memorial Scottyshot or two. It’s black, mean and gives out more heat than Vanessa Feltz’ buttocks after a spell atop the George Foreman Buttock Sizzler. [ Thermostatically controlled ]. I’m happyish. It types letters nicely and allows me to contact all manner of URLs more fasterer than I could before. I’m going to save up all the liberated nanoseconds and commune with my inner thingy real soon.

Well, I have to say that having some enforced offblogtime has caused me no great pain. There’s so much going on at the moment it’s difficult to find stuff to post. I’m feeling neglectful but I sense a number of similar struggles going on roundnabout. Sadly, one has even closed down in recent days. Maybe it’s the four year itch. I’d better apply some emolient unction to the affected parts forthwith lest my blogstream dry up and turn crusty. That would never do now would it?

The Local Elections are looming in Bignjuicyville. The local Council has been rated one of the worst in the world. Various factions are fighting over who will get control of the massive deficit and closed down public toilets. So far, fifteen badly spelled leaflets have been shoved through my door. None of them have inspired me to vote for anyone. I wish we had a Monster Raving Loony standing here. I could have been a candidate – if only I’d planned ahead. But loonies don’t use Microsoft Outlook – just seaweed and chinagraph pencils. You need an impressive hat to be a candidate. I coulda been a contender.

It’s very disruptive when your PC dies isn’t it?

The turd way
Gordon lives next to the Firth of Forth. It’s all a bit broon doon there just now.

I never knew
Wikimapia – Central London snooperama loveliness..

Greetings from beyond the electrograve.
What are you meant to think when you switch on your electric blog box [EBB] only to be greeted with the words, “INSERT SYSTEM DISK” ? I have to tell you that my thoughts involved a well known exclamation involving gonads. This, because my EBB is ancient, having been lovingly nurtured for years to maximise its lifespan and I know that this message spells Big Doo Doos. Being ancient in the world of the EBB is akin to being obsolete when it comes to transplanting new bits and grafting on enhancing ecoutrements – it’s all so Difficult. The assistants in Maplins look at you through their fifteen year old eyes and offer geeky condescension when they realise that your EBB is nearly as old as them. [ Note to Maplins: 1. Try a social skills course for your workforce. 2. Consider a more diverse workforce in contrast with the current one which seems to consist entirely of pale, thin teenage males called 'Dave'. Remember, the population is getting older and more techno savvy - we won't put up with nerds no more. ] I have learned that my formerly state of the art hard disk is now state of the ark. It has been superseded by much more massively capacious memory devices. I am unable to plug in one of these leviathans because PATA has been superseded by SATA. Am I bovvered? Yes. Because my EBB has become intrinsic to my twennyfirstcentury lifestyle. I bank, I blog, I book, I look, I hook, I chat, I check, I browse, I even placed a bet last week. Now all that is denied me. My FAT32 has become corrupted. There is the the unspoken worry that the FAT32 controller may also be banjaxed. Nobody loves a banjaxed FAT32 controller. I have been casting around for cast off antique hard disks. One arrived in the post. I plugged it in hopefully. Bugger all. I now know that my primary IDE channel is defective. A colonoscopy for computers is not available so I am faced with forking out a fortune for new innards or forking out a fortune for new outards and innards. Buggeration unbounded. Meanwhile a purloined laptop is my friend. Am I sad or mad to mourn the loss of my EBB? I’m sadder about the effect on my £BB [ Bank Balance ]. Still, I’m BBack and that has to be good innit?

Hiatus
Sorry for the rather large gap in postings.
Having a spot of hardware meltdown presently.
Hope to be back v.soon…
Love drD

Quick question
You’ve been chatting for half an hour and now it’s time for that second mug of tea. Do you:
a. Prefer your mug to be washed and dried?
b. Make do with a quick rinse out?
c. Put the new lot straight in on top of the old dregs?
Just curious…

Tis done. Planted, landscaped; a little Japanese inspired world-within-world right outside my back door. Everything’s a bit young and underdeveloped but I’m very happy that very soon it will be looking lovely all over. My biggest delight was in recycling some original Victorian roof slates I found in the loft into a bonsai Japanese dry stream which runs through the trough uniting all and channelling the chi round the feng shui U bend.

It’s all so karmic I could cry. There’s a mix of Sedum and Saxifrage, some of which are subtle, some of which are stunning. Sexy.

Full gallery of love here.

Righto, I’ve decided on my new hat. [Thankyou for all the suggestions. Debster, I'm not a member of the Village People]. Now I just have to find a suitable hat shop to buy it from. There aren’t that many hat shops for men around any more. Not in Bignjuicyville anyway. Had I been alive during the Edwardian era, the Second World War period or even the 1950s – nil problemo: hat shops aplenty. I’ve checked the Kellys Directories for those periods – [ Whatever happened to Kellys? ] and there were at least four local hat shops for the discerning gentleman available to the local populace during those periods. As soon as the 1960s arrived it all started to go down the pan. I blame free love. Nobody ever indulged in free love wearing a trilby, I’m sure of it. Plus the longer shaggier hairstyles of that era looked ridiculous with hatted adornment.

It’s only in recent years with the rise of the Chav that hats have become mainstream again. You’ll be glad to know, I’m sure, that my choice is not of the baseball variety. I sense a new direction in mens fashion. Where doth the Chav venture sartorially when he outgrows Von Dutch? When mingin nylon sportswear no longer cuts the Chicken McNugget dipping sauce? Fine tailoring is the answer. And a jolly nice hat. Mark my words; in the near future a generation grown used to the comfort afforded by constant head coverage will be in need of a more sophisticated image. I’m leading the way – I’m a bleedin pioneer me. Now, does anyone know any good hat shops for a Chap of Destiny?

On a trip to Birmingham Botanic Gardens last August I espied a rather lovely alpine trough made from great slabs of slate. [ Pictured above ]. Abundantly landscaped with saxifrages, sedums and slithers of slate, I lusted after it but decided that it would be too heavy to fit in the backpack and anyway I’d never get it past security. So, here I am eight months later having almost finished making my own, albeit lower height, lower budget version. Shortly to adorn the bignjuicy patio it will be a thing of beauty for all to behold. I’ve just got this nagging feeling that even though the original was uber minimal with heavy Japanese influences; mine might look a bit, well like a stone coffin. Ah well, they can always bury me in it I suppose. Pics to follow when planting has taken place.