Well, submitted. Late for work, but the site is submitted to 9rules. Just got to wait and see now. (And no, I don’t think I will get in either, but if you don’t try you’ll never know). The CC thinks I’m made to worry this much about the blog, by the way, and I think he might be right 😀

Seeing as how my bluetooth keyboard has gone on the fritz, time for more of Colin’s story to save on the RSI.

Episode Three of “Salt and Pepper Chess: the Story of Colin”

To listen, just press the pretty pink button below (and be patient whilst it loads). For other instructions, or for the previous instalments of Colin’s Story, go to the the BrightCast page.

(And sorry for the dodgy sound quality. Something went a bit Pete Tong, but this was take twenty or something, and I just couldn’t face recording it again).

powered by ODEO

If you enjoyed that, let me know what you want to happen next in the story. I can’t write this if you don’t give me ideas people!

(The germ of the idea for this part belongs primarily to Moose. And a TV advert. Blame them!)

brightcast, colin, odeo, salt pepper chess

The one good thing about having a partner who currently resides over 3000 miles away – you can make really stinky garlic bread for dinner and not have to worry 😀

We are in the process of cleaning out the Homestead at the moment prior to downsizing to a house/bungalow that Curly Durly will find more manageable than a large four bedroom family house, and it is a harrowing experience I can tell you.

The house has been the family home since before my brother was born, so we’re talking nearly three decades here and, whilst I have lived elsewhere for the past five or so years, all those domiciles have been rented accommodation. Consequently, there’s a lot of my accumulated stuff back at the Homestead, all of which needs to be sorted through so we know what to chuck and what to put into storage.

What really brought tears to my eyes this weekend though was going through all the old photo albums and shoeboxes filled to over flowing with pictures of people, many of whom I’ve lost contact with over the years. We’ ve never been a family to take pictures of each other, or to document each and every occasion on film, but over the years we’ve still accumulated a fair number of pictures. Even today, when I’m on holiday, I prefer to look at things rather than constantly peer through the blinkers of the viewfinder, but I will not deny the power of even an out-of-focus shot to bring back a whole host of half-forgotten memories.

As I was going through the pictures I realised how many people had fallen by the wayside – people I loved dearly, still love, but who I no longer talk to for whatever reason. I came across person after person who I missed so much, and started to think on all the happy times we had shared, and the sad times, and found myself wondering how I could get in touch with these people again. Indeed, what I would say to them if I did meet them again? Half of them wouldn’t even recognize me. Would they want to see me again? Do they sometimes think of me with a regretful happiness?

I found myself thinking of a poem I once read, which ended thus:

Some people make our souls to dance.
…
They stay in our lives for awhile,
Leave footprints on our hearts,
And we are never, ever the same.

This is a small selection of the people who made my soul dance and not a week goes by that I don’t miss each and every one of them.

With a tear in my eye and a smile on my face, I just want to say a huge “thank you” to all these wonderful people for letting me share their life for a time. I quite simply would not be here today without you, and I just wish you were all still around to share in the laughter once more.

Ok, I’m off to the Homestead for the weekend.
Don’t worry, I’ve queued up a Sunday Roast so you aren’t bereft of things to read over your morning coffee (the Brain Snail gets very grumpy when there is no ‘Roast it turns out, and I’m all for trying to keep my Minions happy).
Just don’t look for me in the comments till Monday evening 🙂 (That doesn’t mean that you aren’t more than welcome to talk amongst yourselves – the beauty of a medium that is only semi-time dependent).

I hope you don’t get all lonely without me. If you are feeling bereft, comfort yourself with the knowledge that this will give me a chance to work a bit more on Colin.

Continuing a (very) occasional series, I bring you the latest that Akismet has caught for me in it’s shiny net.

The highlight for me was the suit worn by the first dog in space which was inside the cabinet. It looked very comical but was in fact genuine and not just a corset with a plastic snout stuck on top.

My highbrow argument goes something like “Because of Joy King and Steve Orenstein, silly!”

Frivolous bastardisation of our punctuation is one of the key witness to the current decline of our wonderful nation.

It was really nice to see Robbie and cycle round the pubs of Oxford with him. He needs to find some mates, though, and some artistic inspiration. Any friendly humans in Oxford?

The mind does boggle about how the decision is made as to which phrases to program into the spam-bots.

That, and I hope Robbie finds a friend soon.

I love the noise my Mac makes when it empties the trash. It makes me feel like there is a little goblin sitting under my desk munching on my files. A pet goblin, not a scary one. Cute in an ugly way. Good at recycling.