Thursday, 30 January 2014

Holiday Snaps from Skegness



This one was taken during a recent sojourn to Skegness on the North
Sea.  It was fucking freezing. And this being August an all- so much
for global warming. If you look carefully you can see the consequence
through the contraction of my erector pili muscles. Look there! No,
you've missed it. The astute will have noticed my uncanny resemblance
to Hereward 'The Wake'. Anyway, this time I decided to take my wife,
Edith 'Swan Neck.' Sorry Brynhildr but as my concubine you will always
get second dibs.

Edith: "Flaxen, does this string of cockle shells accentuate the
graceful curl of my neck, add lustre to my flame red hair and
scintillate the emerald green of my eyes."

Flaxen: "Be quiet saucy wench, can't you see I'm a paddling in the
frigid waters of the North Sea. Bracing, like fuck it is. I've lost
all feeling in my toes. Loki told me that the 'water cure' would
alleviate the painful symptoms of my hallux rigidus. Mendacity Loki!
Great, big, fat, MENDACITY!"

Later we dried starfish on the beach. Partially dried starfish make
wonderfully aerodynamic Frisbees. Woden joined in and Eingar raced
around stopping occasionally to squat and deposit.

Woden: "Flaxen, I hope you are going to clean up after that wolf of
yours. It's wolf owners like you that give us murdering reivers a bad
name. And be careful, you'll have my eye out with one those starfish."

And there was you thinking that Woden lost his eye in the pursuit of
wisdom. Often, as in most things in life, the explanation is much more
prosaic.....

5 comments:

  1. Today we are in the great land of Q-bar. We have docked the long boat and encountered natives for the first time.

    "Guantanamera, guantanamera..." they all chant. Tuneless fuckers the lot of 'em.

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  2. I hope your are bringing civilisation and gelt to this godless savages.

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  3. Fuck off, Dioclese!
    Guantanamera is a great tune. Make light of it at your peril!


    Skegness?
    Ha!
    I was introduced to that place by The Tutor when he read Adrian Mole stories to me.

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  4. Guantanemera - which translates to some peasant wench from the province of Guantanamo - was wrenched screaming and kicking from a 100+ verse poem by the great Cuban national hero whose name I fail to recall at this precise moment possibly due to overload of it being rammed into mine log holes?

    Anyway, you have to admit it goes on a bit! Not quite as bad a La Bamba which translates to something quite stupid about goats.

    In the interests of free speech I will agree to differ with you as I thing they are both shite...

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  5. Apparently it was Jose Marti - whoever the fuck he was?

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