Le Romantique?

allo, bonjour moi pettit poit, eye em, ow you say, goiiing tu seduce your parderner...

The french exchange student didn't actually say any of the above as he arrived at Toastmasters last night, especially not the bit about small peas, but there was something about his casual manliness that, had I been in any way unsure of my relationship with Herself, might have left me feeling slightly anxious.

There was a certain set to that partly shaven face, rugged good looks and toussled hair, a smooth confidence in that lilting French accent that I knew would turn the knees of many a British woman to jelly.  Indeed, as the night progressed it was clear that Jaques (not his actual name) was indeed raising the blood pressure of many of the female attendees - and maybe a few of the men as well.  Even the inscrutable Herself did admit that the rakish accent stirred some deep feeling.

Which made me wonder what it is about certain accents and countries that makes people appear sexually attractive?  French, Spanish, Italians and even Greeks have reputations as great lovers, but Germans with their clipped tones, and us Brits, do not.

And what of Americans?  Are they sexy, with their confidence?  Do their accents lead the men and the women of the world to collapse into a quivering wreck, or do they leave us running for the shower?

Other interesting accents include the Australian accent, where every sentence seems to end on an up note, as if asking a question - so a simple "I fancy a cup of tea" is transformed into "I fancy a cup of teA?"

Sadly the most unsexy accents I could think of were all British:

1) The Lahndahn (London) accent - or Britticus Cockney-Bowbellius - the cor blimey guvnors, as infamously portrayed by that most rare of species: the lesser spotted DickvanDykeius (co-species Marycus Poppinsus)

2) The Am-yam Buuuurmingum accent - or Midlandium Flatticus-prononcicus, so called because of the habit, in some areas of Birmingham, by starting a sentance "Am-yam ooolroit?" (are you alright)

3) The Liviirpewl aCCent - the McCartneyus Beatalicus - to be fair Paul McCartney et al had the flatter Liverpool accent and not the one that sounds permanently vexed and on the point of aperplexy

Our accent where I live is no better either - its very flat and we tend to drop "t"'s  -so the word "City" transforms into "ci-iy".  Hard to imagine Casanova doing that, now isn't it?

NB: apologies for the Latin.  Scholars of the language should probably note that merely adding "us" onto the end of an existing word does not actually transform it in any shape of form

Any examples of accents, sexy or otherwise, muchly appreciated

The Long And Boring Song (with apologies to Paul McCartney

The long and boring song

Tha-a-t just goes on and on

And never seems to end

Just goes on and on

It keeps on going on

A-and on, that boring song

That never seems to end

It just goes on and on

Many times, you thought that I

Had nearly reached the end

Then you reach another bit

To drive you round the bend

And still it's going on

Tha-a-at long, and boring song

It never changes pace

Nor varies in the least

It's not our greatest song

Tha-a-t long, and boring song

It's kinda obvious

We'd run out of ideas

And yet another bit

To the long, and boring song

Tha-a-t never seems to end

It just goes on and on

The Wisdom Of Others (Next Blog >)

Today I want to offer you the wisdom of others in a number of ways.

Firstly as an experiment over the last few days I've been trying the "next blog>" link in an attempt to find someone who was brand new to blogging and offer them much needed support.  I didn't find anyone who hadn't been posting for at least a couple of years, but what was more saddening was the amount of unique voices who now seem to be silent.

Still - amongst the religious propaganda, blogs about families, blogs trying to sell me things and blogs that had been deleted there were a few gems and I'd like to start by offering you a link to two that caught my eye:

1:

http://linea32.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog

Whos wonderfully obscure fascination with the Number 32 bus routes of the world amused me on several levels

2:

http://fati-smsjohorkluang.blogspot.com/

Who may be in a language I don't understand, but surely have the best family photo of all time?

Doing this was an interesting experience for me - there were countries on there that I never imagined blogging and it made me slightly ashamed I had never taken the time to learn about their language so I could interract

The other way I want to offer the wisdom of other is in that the other week, for various reasons, I bought a headset/microphone for my computer and suddenly found myself wondering if it would make a good recording mike.

So to find out, and in the spirit of the fact that this song pretty much sums up how I've been feeling recently, here's a recording.  Some of you might recognise it

Working class hero by Don't Feed The Pixies

Lest We Forget

I can't believe that I've known y'all for all this time without introducing you to my constant friend and companion.

What is it now: 3, 4 years?  Doesn't time when you're having fun?

Still, you'd've thought I would have mentioned my Super Hero Double Identity by now - even in passing and yet here we are...

I'm not suggesting, of course, that of an evening I dress in tights, put my underpants over my clothes and go thwarting ner-do-wells - my superhero ability is a slightly unusual one at best and, over the years, I have come to refer to this secret identity as Captain Paranoia.

Many of you will already be familiar with the Captain and feel that you too are visited by his late night whispers in your ear that tell you to go and check the front door that one final time just to be absoultely sure that you did indeed lock it. 

Extreme sufferers from his presence, those for whom he has set up a comfy chair between their eyes and watches everything they do, suffer from OCD - but every one of us have a small room marked VACANT in our brains that always has a bed prepared for the Captain - just in case he should arive with his megaphone and start yelling "YOU DIDN'T LOCK YOUR DOOR" just five minutes after you got into the one-way system contraflow that will take you half an hour to get out of, go back and discover that yes, you did indeed lock the door - only to find that Captain Paranoia has vacated the building to avoid the forthcoming knuckle sandwich

Worse still, however, are the occasions upon which the Captain choses to stay silent - like today, for instance, when a healthy bout of "Did you remember to pick up your works pass today?" would have saved the resultant half an hour of waiting in reception whilst the Security Guard sorted out a visitor pass, then the rigmarole of getting a temporary payment card so I could get a coffee

Or come to that Mr so-called Captain Paranoia where were you the day I cycled seven miles to work, got to the changing room/shower and had to come out and make an apologetic call to Herself to bring me the pair of trousers that were still lying waiting at home?

Didn't have much to say for yourself that day, did you?

Minor Earth, Major Sky

So a while ago I decided I was going to try and do a self portrait.  I'd already done one from a photo of myself playing the guitar and it had turned out vaguely human - so I thought: let's go for it, only this time playing the Saxophone.

The end result of the painting was like a 2 dimensional version of those Morlocks from The Time Machine - and the less said about the Saxophone the better.

So eventually I decided I would paint over it and tried to do a seascape from a Bob Ross DVD with some new Acrylic paints - designed to mix like oil paints.  Only the designer had failed to mention that although they had tried to make them mix like oil paints they had totally failed and what I ended up with was something not dissimilar to the sky in "The Scream"

And then I saw a photo taken from a plane of Mount Hood, posted by Writerquake and thought that it looked like an interesting subject.

So there it is, reproduced in Acrylics on canvas.  Hardly Van Gough (hey, I'd settle for Van Driver) but probably the best I'll get from this canvas as it's now been used three times.

The only problem now is what to do with it.  I have totally run out of wallspace and these days usually only do a painting if I know I can give it away as a present.  Mostly the response to which is a slightly strained smile and a "thank you" between gritted teeth, but then Van Gough never sold any either :)