Monthly Archives: April 2012
I’ve given a brief notice of this before, but since the date is getting closer, I ought to flesh out the bones. Mmmmmm flesh….
Ahem. Mark the date in your diaries, and PLEASE do come to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park on Saturday 23rd June for a Tweetup to celebrate @little_mavis and my 33rd Wedding Anniversary. (Edit by LM: The anniversary thing isn’t really important, we just needed to pick a date & this swung the vote, so don’t let that put you off). Feel free to bring kids, dogs, whoever you like. Although there is a restaurant, bring also a packed lunch & drinks, as we’ll find a few picnic tables or grass to eat on and socialise before exploring the treasures of the place. And your camera, definitely bring your camera.
The YSP is near Wakefield, a mile from the M1 (junction 38). Admission is free, but parking is £5 using Pay & Display machines, so bring enough change to make life easy for yourself. It opens at 10am, and we’ll meet up near the easy-to-find YSP Centre from about 10:30 – 11, then move to a Picnic Area to eat. I’ll also be discoverable by phone once we’ve moved on from there. You can click the map below (which I’ve annotated using Comic Sans, purely to annoy @captain_doodle) if you want to see a bigger version, or there’s a humungous PDF map on the YSP site itself (page 5).
Need a lift?
Please let me know if you’re planning to come – it’d be good to be able to look forward to seeing you. Also, I’ll try to co-ordinate lifts for anyone without a car, so those needing a lift and those with room to offer one should tell me. Can’t promise anything obviously, but I’ll do my best to sort this stuff out – oooh, I could use a multicoloured spreadsheet a la Martin Bryce!
Any questions, just ask me. Now watch it rain…. not that I’ll mind. I’ll just get wet and enjoy it.
Inspired by the song, of course, the ‘official’ (and therefore deserving of a proper blog) #SUNDAYPICS for April was meant (in my head) to be of you and a cuddly toy. Got lots of pics just of cuddly toys, but given that I’m hardly a stickler for rules, I enjoyed those pics too. Let’s go, furries, in alphabeticalish order for no apparent reason.
First up alphabetically due to his
underpants underscore is man about town @_aaronkelly, who gives us “three hobbits with teds”. I love photos of little girls, don’t you? Oh Gawd, I mean that in a charming-happysmiley-not-at-all-pervy way, obviously. Save me, Alex!
Here she is, in the nick of time – tis @alexbrightsmith, clutching her panda, and demonstrating why he has one ear bigger than the other. Is it me, or is she also sucking her thumb, the sexpot?
Over on the left is @alliterative’s 40-year-old bear, which he bravely proves by also showing us a mini-him clutching said ursine. God, were we ever that young?
Ms. Sexy Eyes herself, @andromedababe, shows us her favourite bedcuddles companion. Look at his satisfied expression.
And here’s another sexbomb. And it’s that @ariadnes_web holding him. She’s not normally a “stuffed toy type”; this is a bear given to her on Valentine’s Day once. What’s the betting he’s called “Valentine”? Or possibly “Day”.
“His kneading pulled out hanks of fur, but as you can see, Tigger loved Bear” reports @avensarah. She continues, quite jauntily, “Ex-boyfriend gave me him for V’s Day when I was 18. No strong feelings for him, but I love Bear” Well, look at his little face!
Here’s a tryptich from @bathcat. On the left, Teddy stuck in the tree due to “Little buggers”. In the middle, he undergoes the torture of being washed after an adventure in the River Exe. And over on the right, Teddy and His Boy.
The four-year-old @beanobundle hugs her bear tightly, not so very long ago (he says, in a gentlemanly fashion). This was in Southern France. “We arrived there v early & had to wait for host to collect us”. Thank God you had Bear to protect you from all those Gallic dangers.
Here’s @captain_doodle – “Steeeeeempy, you eeeejit” he says. This means nothing to me, cos I’m not ‘street’, but he appears to be brandishing some sort of mutated smurf. An X-Smurf, if you will, who can go through a smoky hole at the drop of a hat.
So it would seem that @butmadnnw has been invaded by cuddlies from outer space. On the left “The bed crew – Arthur (big gold snuggler), Quark (black & travel-compact), & some odd pillow pals”. On the right, “The shelf crew – keep in mind there are others than what you can see. Space restriction” OUTER space restriction, you mean.
And here’s @marcomunkeh with HIS crew (dudes!). “We hang out by the pillow Me, Doctor, Stitch, & Perry”. I see you wear a fez now. Fezzes are cool.
@chickenprincess – “Breaking out an old pic for #SUNDAYPICS Tally and Fred the Ted, on an adventure”. Finally, someone names their bear!
Here’s another! “Charlie was attacked by a childhood dog. I don’t love him any less” says @dawbes. He’s a proper beauty, if a rather unpleasant colour.
“Me & my teddy, many years ago” chirrups @em_and_lola. My word, he’s a big ‘un, you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. I’ll just bet he was called Tiny.
OK, next up is another tryptich, this time of quite a famous bear. This classy feller belongs to @ericafairs, and has been papped for magazines! May I present, on your left, Erica and her teddy bear, having no worries, having no cares. Bear poses alone (and naked) in the centrefold, and features prominently in The Antiques Roadshow Magazine. Posh bear.
Here’s @girlthing63, present and past, with Mouse and Panda – not looking bad for 45 year olds. Indeed, two lovely cuddlies on view there. I do like a nice cleavage pic.
Give a warm welcome to The Brechin Boys! @hebbie tells us that these are “Stewie & @GourockGuru’s cuddly toys, known as The Brechin Boys. They have sleepovers in each bedroom. Yes really” I’m saying nothing.
Fancy a foursome then? No? In that case, how about four photos instead of the perverted sex? Yes? OK then (spoilsports). Here’s @harrietkap – “My bear is a bit of a star, he has his own fb page, he can fly too, and has his own masseuse. He went bungee jumping too – check out those women’s faces”. Hmmmm…. I think my face would have been a bit wibbly too.
Remember member member what a womble womble womble you are…. here’s @janetstratch with her favourite womble. She types well for someone so young, I have to say.
Sir @JimTheSG posted this pic of @Dr_Steph_ and her fluffies (not a euphemism). “Pink Ted I’ve had since birth according to family lore. Moo Cow, Jim bought me when I was sad”. Aww, nice Jim.
This little feller’s so lovable, despite being threatened by that nasty Lotso. He belongs to @jingomimi, is over 40 years old & she ate all his fur when she was little. He has a big hole above his eye. He looks like I feel some mornings.
Not sure what the wiggins this is meant to be, but twas posted by @justjimwilldo. It looks way too modern for an old fart like me to understand.
Now here’s a pic that made me sdquee like a little girl. So no change there. This is shows Amsie & Big Ted. Unfortunately, @kaPOWed doesn’t tell us which is which, so I shall assume they are named in order. Amsie is a lovely name for a giant teddy bear, well done. And you must be so proud of…. erm, Big Ted (not a good name for a little girl – you were a bit cruel there).
Now here’s a well-loved bear indeed, and @mana4tee tells us all about him. “Aww my Mum used to sing that song to me – and I take my Ted everywhere with me… to Children In Need gigs … to Antarctica … and everywhere in between. As for another sort of teddy..That can wait for the other comp”. Oh my – now I can hardly wait for the day that I’m brave enough to announce the #nuddyteddy theme….
“As of Tuesday I will have had this bear exactly 27 years” says @mckjerral, “I got it in the hospital”. As long as you didn’t steal it from someone else, then that’s a lovely story! I like his little face. The bear’s, I mean.
Here’s another handsome and long-serving bear, from @misskayleigh – “I’ve had this one 25 years! I was just a lil bit bigger than him when I was born”. Bet you didn’t have two black eyes, though.
It took me ages to see the bear in this photo cos, well, boobies! Nice ones tooo…. ahem, sorry. This is @mooley and “batman bear”. Oh now see, I thought he was “bondage bear” till you said that.
“My two Teddies, imaginatively named brown ted and orange ted, cuddled up with my girls ted” reports @och23. They look like they’re ready to go down to the woods today.
Wordsmith and man-about-town @richlieu_uk now – “This is Teddy and me. We first met the day I was born”. He either has two noses or a little Hitler moustache. I kind of hope it’s the latter.
Here’s our final tryptich this time, from @scullyscully – “Me & my teddy bear (rabbit) for #sundaypics. He’s not clear in the 1st. I’m grumpy in the 2nd. And here’s a more recent pic – he doesn’t look bad for 43 (& yes, he’s a cross-dressing rabbit)”
Squashed teddy! Although he looks quite pleased about it. Our reporter @sebastianflyte says “might as well include this chap Furryboo who I found in my bed last night”. Furryboo! Best name yet.
This one makes me sniffle with awwww, cos listen to @snowgirl1972 – “Here’s mine & Thom’s childhood teddies together on Boy’s shelf”. See? Awwwwwww, you two!
“I don’t collect bears, honest” says @sundayhandbag, “Here’s two Kringle bears bought in the USA & a Mother’s Day bear”. A Christmas bear!
There’s three teds here, cos this pic is from @teddy_red – “Teddy accompanied by Teddy H – who I MADE at school. In Class H. An imaginative child”. You made him? Blimey, that’s clever.
Oh now, here’s a brave little bear with a good heart. He’s from @tweetiepeetie, who says “Meet Rupert, he’s 34 & I’ve had him since I was born”. I never realised so many of you would have hung on to your childhood chums. It’s quite moving, actually.
Actually the first #SUNDAYPICS submission for “Teddy Day”, here’s a beautiful pic from @vanishedhippo – “It’s actually eldest and her teddy”. He’s a bit of a boozer I see.
Here’s a cool ted from @wavesfromfrance – “French artist Ted in his cravat, beret and paint stained tunic … with a caveman” Yes, er yes, all bohemian artists have a cavemen with them at all times….
Good morrow again, people of the future. Following yesterday’s description of the King’s Procession, today I shall describe his Coronation itself. I remain your humble servant from the past, Mr. Samuel Pepys. Remember, if you wish to read of my daily life in 1661, you can find me on the thing called Twitter at this place: @sampepys_1661. A warning for those of a nervous disposition – this report contains pissing and snogging and spewing.
23rd April 1661 –
KING’S CORONACION AT THE ABBY.
About 4 in the morning I rose. Bleeeeuuurrrghh HANGOVER. After a spew or two, I got to the abby, where I got in by pretending to be with Sir J. Denham the surveyour. Then, with much ado, I did get up into a great scaffold across the north end of the abby – where with a great deal of patience I sat from past 4 till 11 before the King came in. My only entertainment was spotting the lovely women wearing their fine dresses, and imagining them without the dresses.
And a pleasure it was to see the Abbey raised in the middle, all covered with red and throne (that is a chaire) and footstoole on the top of it. And all the officers of all kinds, so much as the very fidlers, in red vests. Red was a bit of a theme. Also gold.
At last comes in the Deane and prebends of Westminster with the Bishops (many of them in cloth-of-gold Copes); and after them the nobility all in their parliament-robes, which was a most magnificent sight. Then the Duke and the King with a scepter (carried by my Lord of Sandwich) and Sword before him, and the crowne too.
The King in his robes, bare headed, looked very fine. And after all had placed themselfs, which took a lot of shuffling,- there was a sermon and the service. And then in the Quire at the high altar he passed all the ceremonies of the Coronacion – which, bugger it all to hell and to my very great grief, I and most of the Abbey could not see. The crowne being put upon his head, a great shout begun.
And three times the King-at-armes went to the three open places on the scaffold and proclaimed that if any one could show any reason why Ch.Steward should not be King of England, that now he should come and speak. And a Generall pardon also was read by the Lord Chancellor; and meddalls flung up and down by my Lord Cornwallis – of silver; but none of the bloody things came my way.
There was so great a noise, that I could make but little of the Musique; and endeed, it was lost to everybody. But now I had so great a list to pisse, and could not find a place that would not wet someone’s head. So that I went out a little while before the King had done all his ceremonies, and found a corner that had become a piss-place, and did stand in a pond of it. Then I went round the abby to Westminster-hall, all the way within rayles, and 10000 people, with the ground coverd with blue cloth – and Scaffolds all the way. Into the hall I got – where it was very fine with hangings and scaffolds, one upon another, full of brave ladies. And I saw my wife in one little one on the right hand, and she looked bloody GORGEOUS in her blue dress. I did imagine her naked too, which was mighty fun.
Here I stayed walking up and down; and at last, upon one of the side-stalls, I stood and saw the King come in with all the persons (but the Souldiers) that were yesterday in the cavalcade; and a most pleasant sight it was to see them in their several robes. And the King came in with his Crowne on and his sceptre in his hand – under a Canopy borne up by six silver staves, carried by Barons of the Cinqueports – and little bells at every end.
Then clattered in three Lords, Nothumberland and Suffolke and the Duke of Ormond, coming before the feast on horseback and staying so all dinner-time; and at last, came Dymock the King’s Champion, all in armour on horseback, with his Speare and targett carried before him. And a herald proclaim that if any dare deny Charles Stewart to be lawful King of England, here was a Champion that would fight with him; and with those words the Champion flings down his gantlet; and all this he doth three times in his going up toward the King’s table. At last when he is come, the King drinkes to him and then sends him the Cup, which is of gold; and he drinks it off and then rides back again with the cup in his hand.
I went from table to table to try to get something to eat, and so my Lord did give me four rabbits and a pullet; and so I got some bread too and so at a Stall eat it, as everybody else did what they could grab.
Tell you what; I took a great deal of pleasure to go up and down and look upon the ladies – some right beauties – and to hear the Musique of all sorts; but above all, the 24 viollins. All finished eating about 6 at night, and I went up to my wife and there met with another pretty lady and kissed them both and had a squeeze of arse (threesome ahoy!).
I observed little disorder in all this; save only the King’s Footmen had got hold of the Canopy and would keep it from the barons of the Cinqueports; a fight ensued between the footmen and the barons. The Barons were dragged along the hall, and lost their places at table. By a prompt command of the King, however, the Footmen were at once imprisoned and dismissed, the poor sods.
We three went to Mr Bowyers, where we went on the roof, expecting to see the Fireworkes; but they were not performd tonight. I had a long tonguey kiss with my wife, and oh the City had a halo of light like a celestial glory round about it, with the many bonefyres all around the city.
So I took my wife and Mrs Frankelyn (who I proferred the civility of lying with my wife at Mrs Hunts tonight) to Axe yard. In which, at the further end, there was three great bonefyres and a great many great gallants, men and women. They grabbed we three, and had us drink the King’s health upon our knee, kneeling upon a fagott; which we all did, they drinking to us one after another – which we thought a strange Frolique. But these gallants continued thus a great while, and I wondered to see how the ladies did tiple. They poured the booze down. Chavs.
At last I sent my wife and her bedfellow to bed, and Mr Hunt and I went in with Mr Thornbury where we drank the King’s health and nothing else, till one of the gentlemen fell down stark drunk and there lay speweing. So I home and to bed, but no sooner a-bed but my head begun to turne and I to vomitt, and I fell asleep and sleep till morning – only, when I waked I found myself wet with my spewing. There were diced carrots and tomato skins, which I swear I did not eat.
Thus did the day end, with joy and spew unconfined; and blessed be God, I have not heard of any mischance to anybody through it all, but only to Serjeant Glynne, whose Horse fell upon him yesterday and is like to kill him. Death by horse. Oh, there was also this night, in Kingstreet, a woman had her eye put out by a boy’s flinging of a firebrand into the coach.
Now after all this, I can say that besides the pleasure of the sight of these glorious things, I may now shut my eyes against any other objects, as being sure never to see the like again in this world. My thanks to you, stranger, for listening, and I hope to see you on Twitter.
Good day to you of the future. My name is Samuel Pepys, and I may normally be found communicating from 1661 using the modernity of a thyng called Twitter. There you can read my daily doings there by following @sampepys_1661. The King’s coronacion being imminent, and such a stonking gig that it shall not be limited to short 140 character bursts of pale description, Mr. Wombat has kindly allowed me to expound at length here upon the glorious Restoration of England’s monarchy.
22nd April 1661 –
KING’S GOING FROM YE TOWER TO WHITE HALL.
Got up dead early, and pimped myself up as fine as I could. I had on my new (ish) velvet coat for the first time. Our Navy Office gang, nine of us in all, went to Mr. Young the flag-maker’s house, where we had a room with wine and CAKE (yay). We went there cos it’s near to the second triumphal arch (near the Royal Exchange) which is dedicated to the Navy.
The streets were all gravelled, and the houses hung with carpets before them, making a brave show, and the ladies leaning out of the windows, one of which over against us I took much notice of, and spoke of her. She was a bit gorgeous, which made good sport among us. She had the most excellent decolletage. Boobies ahoy!
You know, it’s impossible to describe properly the true glory of that procession: the fine horses decked out in magnificent clothes, and their riders all bedecked in their finery. Even the most ordinary rider was covered with embroidery & diamonds, and the brightest of them shone with light. This beauty didn’t stop several of them doing a big shyte on the gravell.
The Knights of the Bath & their Esquires were a mighty brave sight; especially remarquable were the two men that represent the two Dukes of Normandy and Aquitane. Then some Barons, and a shitload of Bishops all a-glitter. My Lord Monk rode bare after the King, and led in his hand a spare horse, as being Master of the Horse. The King himself, in a most rich embroidered suit and cloak, looked most noble and handsome. The King noticed us leaning out of the windows and nodded in our direction. Oh yeah, baby, we’re the in-crowd, we are.
Then followed Wadlow, the vintner from the Devil pub, leading a fine company of soldiers, all young comely men, in white doublets. After came a company of men all like Turks; but I have no idea what they are for, other than to give us a giggle by looking silly. So glorious was the whole show with gold and silver, that we were not able to look at it, our eyes at last being so much overcome with it.
The parade of dekights being ended, Mr. Young did give us a dinner, at which we were very merry, and pleased above imagination at what we have seen. We laid into the drink with a will, and I won 20s from Sir W. Batten with a wager about my Lady Faulconbridge’s first name (Mary, since you ask). So home to see the show upon Towre Hill with Will, my wife Lizzie being over at Charles Glassecocke’s. Had some more wine. Then more wine. In the evening by water to White Hall to my Lord’s, where he old me that his suit for tomorrow was made in France, and cost him 200l., and very rich it is with embroidery. I staid there the night, being fallingdown rat-legged, for the Coronacion itself on the morrow.
I’ll tell you all about that (including my dilemma about how to have a pisse during the service) here tomorrow.
Yes, I finally got your hairy pics together – in a video again, sorry, cos I’m still playing catch-up. For a change this time, instead of weirold stuff ordrum-driven music, I’ve gone with a nice piece of Haydn, purely because it’s a sunny afternoon here at Wombat Towers and I’m feeling all boneless and snoozy and relaxed.