bunn: (canoeing)

And it is hot and I am eating ice lollies, although it's not so hot that I can't sit here wearing a thin fleece, which is About Right.  It's a pity it's horsefly season.

I have killed my laptop mouse yet again, and am having to operate with a touchpad until the new mouse comes.  I don't like it, it feels weird and unnaaaaaaaatural and horribly slow and fiddly.

Also I wrote yet another thing where people in Tol Eressea hang around after LOTR thinking 'we've run out of canon, what shall we do?  Eat cake and talk about canon again?  Why not?'
Even The Very Wise : 7367 words of Lalwen, Galadriel and Nerdanel chatting and eating cake.  Plus a phonecall with Fëanor.

bunn: (canoeing)
Phonecall from NHS: will I come in for checkup?  Well, OK I say, and agree a date and time.

Read more... )


Nov. 5th, 2016 08:12 pm
bunn: (upside down)
Are so bloody annoying, with their eyes and noses.  Eyes are the worst. One small blob of paint in the wrong place and BAM. Squinting Troll.

Maybe I should just focus on painting squinting trolls from now on. 
bunn: (Skagos)
A few months back I was at the recycling centre with some boxes, and happened to notice that the cardboard recycling skip was full of large rectangular pieces of what looked like cardboard picture mounts - ie, the middle bit that gets cut out of the mount when you have something framed.    I became enamoured of them and grabbed a huge pile of them out of the skip (what?  I put other cardboard in the skip!  The Cardboard-eating Skip Monster does not go hungry on my account!)

Anyway, I have been drawing on these cardboard rectangles, and they are excellent.  You don't have the bits of paper flopping about like with a sketchbook, they are light, and yet quite rigid so you don't need to put them on top of anything to support them, you can draw with one on your lap.  They aren't all quite the same size and proportions, but that's fine, I don't mind.  They have the odd pencil squiggle on them, but I can rub that out, and they take paint well so I can also overpaint them.

I don't even know what these things are called, let alone how to get more of them.  I'm wondering if I called a picture framing shop and asked if they had any middles, they'd think I was mad.

In other news, I hate writing proposals, and will apparently do almost anything to avoid finishing this one.  Writing proposals is THE WORST. 


Sep. 3rd, 2016 08:25 am
bunn: (No whining)
The delightful comfort of wearing warm socks when the weather has taken a turn for the chilly is disrupted by stepping in a splash of water, such as that created by a large hairy dog drinking incautiously.

And yet the splash is not so large that the entire foot is wet, so that parts of my feet are now crying 'we are sad and wet' while other parts of my feet are going 'but it's so snuggly and warm!  Can't you just wait a bit, the wet bits are bound to dry soon'.

I wonder if this is what Brexit feels like if you are a country.    Get it together, feet.

I should probably try to find another pair of clean socks.  (I do have many clean socks.  Shadow falls over this idyllic situation when the word 'pair' is mentioned.) 
bunn: (dog knotwork)
I spent several hours today wrestling with piles of paper and the dismal realisation that my younger self was apparently not only thinner and richer than me, but also better organised and nothing like as messy.  Oh well.  That's entropy for you I suppose. Entropy, and spending all the money on vet bills.  But! I have a filing cabinet now, so I am hoping that will go some way towards resetting the 'being organised' drift towards giving up and just  living in a sort of nest inside one enormous drift of paper and cat hair.

Shoved underneath a pile of other things, I found a few much older items: surviving souvenirs of a walking holiday that my grandparents took to Holland and Germany when they were thin and young, in the 1930's.  They had an English-language guidebook.

Read more... )


Jan. 5th, 2016 08:51 pm
bunn: (No whining)
Pp has got a new torch, and insisted we must do a night-time dogwalk to test it out.  We went along the Lynher: a very fast flowing full river at this time of year, surprisingly clear water and very dark, what with the trees all the way up the side of the valley.    The new torch did sterling duty along the riverside path, but sadly ran out of juice after that.  It was lucky we were on the road by that time so at least had a level surface to walk on.

The new torch turns out to have a strobe mode.  It has no effect on Pp at all, but Oh!  it made me feel sick.   I had to hang about for about five minutes getting my stomach under control after he accidentally turned it on, and it didn't fully wear off for ages.

It is weird that just light could have that effect, and I wonder why it affected me and not Pp. 
bunn: (No whining)
I went to install Eudora on this new computer, to find that even Eudora OSE, the Thunderbird-driven thing which replaced Qualcomm's original Eudora software, has finally passed away.

I've been using Eudora for my email since 1995!   *weeps*

I feel as I would if I had just discovered that you couldnt' buy a kettle any more.  
bunn: (dog knotwork)
The power socket for my laptop has really truly finally died this time, and after a new power cord, a new keyboard, sugru to hold the disintegrating case and power socket together, I think the dratted thing is finally on the way out this time.   Who knew a Vaio would be so fragile?  Although I think it's lasted me since 2011, so I suppose that by modern standards its lifetime was not excessively short.

Laptop purchasing is a horrid nightmarish confusopoly, even choosing with the help of Pp who builds his own machines.  In the end, I have ordered an Asus N550JK.   It will come with Windows 8*, oh no, and it will no doubt take three days to ensure it is all set up as I want it. Drattitude.

* Before anyone pops up to say 'why not another OS'...Read more... )
bunn: (No whining)
I'd love to reduce the burden on pressured NHS services by not having to book appointments for asthma checkups.  Can I not be trusted to contact the surgery if I am actually ill, rather than just needing a repeat prescription?  I'm healthy. I have strangely huge lungs actually, which I put down to much early clarinet-playing and underwater swimming. I can swim underwater for ages.  If I ever end up in one of those movies where one has to urgently swim through an underwater tunnel, I am quids in.

 I just have a minor condition that occasionally causes my lungs to occasionally curl up and go DON'T WANNA!!. I know asthma can be major and life-threatening, but mine isn't, it's just annoying.  I really wish I could just buy inhalers from a pharmacist.   Oddly, I can buy treatment for the eczema that made me really proper ill a year or so ago, over the counter, and I can buy antihistamines for the hayfever that sometimes triggers the asthma.  But not an inhaler to zap the little bugger with once it's rolled onto the scene.

No Camera

Jan. 6th, 2015 11:08 pm
bunn: (Logres)
I forgot to take my camera when I took the dogs out this afternoon.

Deep purple cloud overhead, the low sun casting golden veils over the mists in the valley and making the western hills shine. In the east a great shining rainbow, with Dartmoor looming deep blue behind it. The moss glowing green edged with gold, and the yellow grass stems and the granite boulders shining. It started to rain, and the low sun caught the raindrops and made them glitter, and the black bare trees caught the raindrops glistening. Rosie Roo poised delicately on a hillock against the setting sun, limned in gold light and her huge ears glowing a soft pink with the sun shining through them.

Working stupidly hard at the moment, went to bed way too late, got up way too early, really should go to bed now, eyeballs feel like pickled onions - but at least I got to see the golden rain and the rainbow in the purple sky.
bunn: (No whining)
That infuriating moment when you realise that, once again, the reason it didn't work is not because you don't understand and are clueless and should give up and go away,  but merely because you made a really stupid syntax error, which you did not spot because you assumed the problem was you were Doing Everything Wrong.

I need to have more confidence in my general comprehension skills, and much less confidence in my punctuation and basic error-checking. 
bunn: (dog knotwork)
Yet another car tyre puncture.  And of course it was on the one tyre that was replaced two months ago for the MOT.

The  recovery van bloke reckons it can be patched.  I hope he's right.

I can't figure out why I get so many punctures.  I must have had enough for several lifetimes by now. 
bunn: (Brythen)
This morning, Brythen and Rosie both took off through the woods after, probably, a deer.   I did not see the deer, but squirrels don't go that far or that fast.   A few minutes later, just as I was starting to get really worried, Rosie came limping woefully back to me, filthy dirty and refusing to put one back foot on the floor.
Read more... )

Editing on Tuesday to add : dogs to vet today for vaccinations.  Vet had to try four times before she got the vaccine into Rosie Roo, due to screaming, leaping etc.  At least she didn't explode her anal glands this time.
Rosie now weighs 20.1Kg, and Brythen weighs 29.5kg.  Big Boy Brythen. 


Oct. 28th, 2014 01:54 pm
bunn: (dog knotwork)
That feeling on the 21st iteration of 'can you make it look like this?' design when the layout works its way around to *exactly how the layout would look and work by default if no work had been done on it at all*  .

 It's amazing how great a wheel can look when you've just spent a solid week checking out all the alternatives and reinventing it. 
bunn: (No whining)
Still trying to write. Lots of scenery. Scenery coming out of my ears. Lots of archaeology (well, technically, I suppose, yesterday's scenery is today's archaeology, so that is actually the same thing.) Characterisation in random, disconnected chunks. Plot. There should probably be some.

I like writing, but I wish I had more words and an attention span. I'm sure I used to have one somewhere. Maybe in a drawer. Ooh, look, lurchers!
bunn: (Bungles)
Fed the cats yesterday on one of the cheaper varieties of the many catfoods bought to tempt their tiny palates.   As expected, Henning and Footie ate up their food like good cats, while Yama Bungle strode around shouting that the food was ICK POO and demanding liver.

So this morning I gathered up the remaining food, fed the cats something different (also deemed to be ICK POO, in case you were wondering) and gave the old food to Az, who considers slightly aged cat food at an ambient temperature to be something of a breakfast delicacy.    Az ate about enough for an elderly cat of sedentary habits, which would be fine if he were in fact a cat, but since he's about the size of four largish cats, is not ideal.   Still, at least he ate.

Then Yama grabbed the bowl and ate the rest of it with gobbling enthusiasm.   Odd little monster.

The skies are the colour of rain, and I am tired today.  Must get act together.  Got up this morning, then found that having knelt down to say hello to Az, I had somehow managed to flop over and go back to sleep next to him on the rug. 
bunn: (No whining)
I am continuing to enjoy watching Sleepy Hollow, to the point where I actually went through the pain* of watching online the two episodes that I'd missed, from the US (well, I could have watched them on UK tv.  I had the right licenses and so on.  I just happened to miss them. So I don't feel that briefly concealing my IP address (via Tunnelbear) to view them from the States was really very naughty).

It's a very ridiculous series.  The premise is that the apocalypse is coming, the Four Horsemen are on their way, and for some reason this is causing a series of mysterious events in a small American town, which must be investigated by a rookie cop (short, female, black, wisecracking, named Abbie) and Ichabod Crane (tall, white, sarcastic), who in this telling is an English turncoat/spy from the US Revolution who has slept for 230 years, but has none the less awoken full of investigatory zeal, pausing not even to change his pants before flinging himself back into the action.

Most of the details make no sense, but there's more than enough good lines, pretty faces and panache to cover these up as long as you don't look too hard at the joins or the history and hum loudly when scepticism threatens to break the illusion.

At the moment I am very pleased that Ichabod Crane has been confirmed as being somehow an Oxford History faculty member at Merton, despite being 230ish years out of time.  I mean, OK probably Merton would notice, *really* if they got a call about one of their dons from a previous century who had never officially been removed from the list -  but wouldn't it be great if they didn't?  Although I vaguely have the impression that Merton might be too efficient and not mysterious enough for that sort of thing.  All Souls might be a better fit.

*if you don't find watching long video content online painful, this may be because you don't live in a small Cornish village connected to the outside world by a shonky strand of copper installed around 1938.
bunn: (No whining)
Today the sun shone (until the thunder came).  And because the butterflies were, I presume,  carefully checking the internet yesterday, a number of them came out to see if my buddleias were as good as promised.  I only took these with my phone, so they are a bit fuzzy, although I do like the fritillary in the middle, where the clever phone software, desperately trying to compensate for its inadequate lens size, has created a wonderful impression of wings flapping.
Read more... )

Are you reading this butterflies?


bunn: (Default)

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