Monthly Archives: November 2014

TRIANGLES–#SUNDAYPIX 30th November

You know the place that you stuff everything that you don’t have a place for? The place you desperately hide everything when your Mum makes an unannounced visit? The junk drawer, full of pencils, ring-pulls, bras and elastic bands? The everything cupboard. Your #SUNDAYPIX theme for 23rd November is

Triangles

Take photographs of your triangular object. Post your pics to Twitter on Sunday (including the hashtag #SUNDAYPIXtriangles in your tweet) and see how many people throw up their hands in horror. As ever, photographs must be yours (or your family’s or your secret lover’s) – nowt just nicked off the internet. Yes, you can post an old pic you’ve previously taken, or even one from your family history. Follow the hashtag (click on it in any tweet or add a column to your app) on Sunday to see what others have made of the theme. You are encouraged, nay ordered, to comment on other Sundaypickers’ tweets and snigger.

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Shirayukihime

The steady drip – drip – drip of snow falling from the overhead branches drenched the ronin’s shoulders. He hunched his cloak closer and peered through the pale mist that shrouded the white-rimmed trees. Was that…?

It was. A dark cottage squatted in a small clearing like a huge slaughtered boar. The absence of smoke implied that it was uninhabited. Perhaps the place might offer him shelter.

As he trudged closer, dragging his weary boots through the ankle-deep snow, he could make out a vague shape in front of the cottage. Closer, he saw that it was a large box laid on a very low table. The building itself looked odd, with tiny windows and an extremely small door. The ronin would have to bend double to enter. He paused by the strange box. It was fully six feet long and covered with snow.

He raised a gauntleted hand and swept away some of the snow. Gasping a curse, he took a step back in shock, his hand instinctively reaching into his cloak for the hilt of his katana. Ice sprayed from his boots as he struggled to retain his balance. His breath fogged the frozen air.

DSCF3014Looking about, he saw no movement, no life. The forest was as still as death. He moved back to the box and swiftly swept all of the snow away. The top was made of glass, though this was not what had caused him to spring back. His alarm had been caused by the contents of the box, now fully revealed.

She was exquisitely beautiful, skin as white as the snow he had just swept away, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. Her eyes were closed, her shapely body unmoving beneath her simple shift. The glass coffin, for such it must be, had likely been placed outside to keep it cold.

The girl was clearly dead, and yet her features stirred such feelings within the ronin’s chest that he felt an irresistible desire to stroke the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. He searched for the fastening on the lid.

A dark ball of fury bulleted into him, knocking him sprawling in the snow. A student of battojutsu, the ronin was back on his feet in an instant, his sword slicing through the air exactly where his opponent would be standing. It cut only the air, however, passing over the head of his attacker. His assailant was hooded and, incredibly, stood no more than three feet tall. He carried no weapon.

“You are not welcome, intruder,” growled the dwarf.

“Leave this place,” came another voice from behind. The ronin whipped round to see another dwarf, poised to attack him from the other side. More dwarves, similarly hooded, stepped out of the trees until he was circled by seven samurai, all dwarves.

“Why should not we kill you, intruder?” the first dwarf said. The ronin considered. He would tell the truth, as always.

“Because I love her.”

Messy (#SUNDAYPIX 23rd November)

DSCF4344You know the place that you stuff everything that you don’t have a place for? The place you desperately hide everything when your Mum makes an unannounced visit? The junk drawer, full of pencils, ring-pulls, bras and elastic bands? The everything cupboard. Your #SUNDAYPIX theme for 23rd November is

Messy

Take photographs of your messy drawer or cupboard. Post your pics to Twitter on Sunday DSCF4345(including the hashtag #SUNDAYPIXmessy in your tweet) and see how many people throw up their hands in horror. As ever, photographs must be yours (or your family’s or your secret lover’s) – nowt just nicked off the internet. Yes, you can post an old pic you’ve previously taken, or even one from your family history. Follow the hashtag (click on it in any tweet or add a column to your app) on Sunday to see what others have made of the theme. You are encouraged, nay ordered, to comment on other Sundaypickers’ tweets and snigger.

FREE Wombat’s Christmas Baubles

Wombat's Christmas Baubles coverI’ve got a present for you – FREE for Kindle (for five days at least), four brief Christmassy stories from a dark, scary corner of my mind.

It was almost called Wombat’s Christmas Balls, but in the end I decided on the less icky option of Wombat’s Christmas Baubles – grab them now. Did I say it was FREE?

26 filthy pictures–#SUNDAYPIXinnuendo so far

Bq1Ny1CIUAASJ-eYou dirty minded lot. It’s halfway through Sunday and we’ve already had twenty-six dodgy pics. Have you seen them all? Mind you, that @bilbobaggins2k is the worst. I mean look!

I did consider breaking them down into categories, but then where would you put Alex’s hairy purple thing?

Sausage fest @JustJimWillDo
Fondling a knob @NicolaCubes
A massive knob @bilbobaggins2k
Nice buns @bilbobaggins2k
A bare bottom @bilbobaggins2k
Balls @bilbobaggins2k
A massive erection @bilbobaggins2k
My pussy @louisehector
Massive cock @bilbobaggins2k
Fanny magnet @bilbobaggins2k
Balls @SMP1972
Pussy @sjcoltrane
Damp bell end @bilbobaggins2k
Mushroom knob @bilbobaggins2k
Westminster willies @bilbobaggins2k
Victorian boobies @bilbobaggins2k
Dirty seaman @bilbobaggins2k
A big wank @bilbobaggins2k
My salty canyon @ananizapta
My hairy pussy @basdriver
Jugs in hand @secretstef
Tasty sausage @gaiamojo
Cock @gaiamojo
A juicy hole @leontia2001
Hairy purple thing @alexbrightsmith
A cock in my bush @flylilypad
   
   
   

Innuendo (#SUNDAYPIX 16th Nov)

CockWho better than @captain_doodle, international man of mystery, to inspire this week’s theme? Your #SUNDAYPIX theme for 16th November, one that he suggested for our poll the other day, is

 

Innuendo

 

Take photographs of knobs, knockers, plums or any other thing who’s name might lend itself to double-meaning. Or you could A gravestone in Deadwood, SDpost a picture of an item simply because of its shape, or even suggest dodgy phrases such as ‘prick my sausage’, ‘a large organ’, or perhaps my favourite ‘muffin munching’. Post your pics to Twitter on Sunday (including the hashtag #sundaypixinnuendo in your tweet) and see how many people throw up their hands in horror. As ever, photographs must be yours (or your family’s or your secret lover’s) – nowt just nicked off the internet. Yes, you can post an old pic you’ve previously taken, or even one from your family history. Follow the hashtag (click on it in any tweet or add a column to your app) on Sunday to see what others have made of the theme. You are encouraged, nay ordered, to comment on other Sundaypickers’ tweets and snigger.

Remembrance of Rollie

DSCN0297This is Rollie Bucholtz, an American pilot who volunteered to fight for the Allies in 1941, six months before America entered the war. He was killed four weeks after arriving in England. I have in my possession his diary as well as many of his photographs and other documents. I plan to write about him next year.

Today, Armistice Day, I remember his bravery and willingness to fight oppression.

Tweetups of the future

TweetupYou all know of my proclivity for a good Tweetup by now. I was just musing on how life-affirming it is to meet good folk, and regretting having to miss bobbing up to Newcastle this weekend to meet some lovely Twitter chums whom I’ve never met before. The sixth #YSPtweetup is next June of course, and we do have another tweetup arranged for York at the end of January to meet a very special US visitor, but I also have a hankering, maybe even multiple hankerings, to try to meet ALL my Twitter chums before I die*.

Possible future tweetups then –

  • a footy tweetup – chippy, match at Gigg Lane, pub.
  • a seaside tweetup, more than likely in Filey.
  • a Manchester tweetup, cos it’s Manchester innit?
  • a York tweetup, specifically so that I can meet the #hatclub gang.
  • a zoo tweetup, cos capybara.

DSCF1527There’s nothing you can DO with this information, of course. I suppose this post is more to remind me to get my blkoody finger out and get things arranged.

*obviously before I die, unless you all come to my wake. OOOH, YOU SHOULD ALL COME TO MY WAKE!

WTF? (#SUNDAYPIX 9/11)

from @sjnewtonYour #SUNDAYPIX theme for tomorrow, 9th November, is one that you chose yourselves, via that poll down there. Go on, scroll down – yes, that one. We’ve done this one before, but that was back in 2011, so it will bear another outing now. “An object from a strange angle” it is, which I have snappily titled

WTF?

@emmaliptonPhotograph an everyday object from an unusual angle, post your pics to Twitter on Sunday (including the hashtag #sundaypixWTF in your tweet) and see how many people manage to guess what you’ve photographed. As ever, photographs must be yours (or your family’s or your secret lover’s) – nowt just nicked off the internet. Yes, you can post an old pic you’ve previously taken, or even one from your family history. Follow the hashtag (click on it in any tweet or add a column to your app) on Sunday to see what others have made of the theme. You are encouraged, nay ordered, to comment on other Sundaypickers’ tweets and guess the mystery objects.

Lament

Loving MemoryI rageweep at these fucking iron hooks piercing my torn, bloody heart and dragging it into the filth. Tell me this, oh Wise One – what’s the point of love when people just rip your optimistic little soul into shreds? What’s the point of decades spent on the snowfrozen outside of experience, smearing your pathetic tears across the ice-laced windows of the laughter and warmth of others? What’s the point of daubing on that ludicrous smile and fool-dancing in the pitiful hope that you’ll be liked? What’s the point of putting one foot in front of the other?

What’s the fucking point of anything?

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