B-Art

For your visual entertainment, I present a photographic study entitled: 'The Struggle of Woman'.

The Struggle of Woman

Subtitled: I walked into a table.

Ohio Weather

Intermixed,,for write post about the weather here in Oheio yahoos trip - was promised spring sunshine and some impressive  thunderstorms an ad alkyl I get this sleet,,able ice folks  Windows,,- however I have now discovered that my Kindle touchscreen ifs very  beauty  broken. Off it wasn't for WordPerfect you  would item relays a words. ubad

Haha, data in Uzbeks in the hotel laughing my ahead off. I will Tibet your a tranSLATION When I get back to  my oceanfront.    

  All  types  never , nine  xxvx

Update 24 April 2015:
I wrote and published the post on my Kindle, quickly discovering that the touchscreen had gone wonky and was randomly adding and subtracting its own letters regardless of what I was trying to type!  I am now back home on my PC with a functioning keyboard! The above should have read:

"Intended to write a post about the weather here in Ohio this trip - was promised spring sunshine and some impressive thunderstorms but all I get is sleet and ice cold winds - however I have now discovered that my Kindle touchscreen is very very broken. If it wasn't for auto-correct you wouldn't be able to read a word. 

Haha, sat in bed in the hotel laughing my head off. I will give you a translation when I get back to my desktop.

All the best, Mir xxx"

Update 25 April 2015:
Forgot to mention 'ubad' isn't part of the translation. I have no idea what I was trying to write when that came up.  I was literally crying with laughter by then. 

Detroit Airport

Currently in Detroit airport, very nice as airports go! Have bought bag and earrings. Bit spaced out now - it is 1:00am for me and I've been travelling since 10 yesterday.

 Also, I have just been through a fantastic walkway between concourses that features colour changing lights and funky music. I have named it The Tunnel of Potential Epilepsy.

Now drinking a rather revolting coffee from The Economist shop. Should have gone to Illy.

Still 2 hours to go until my next flight boards. May have to play on plastic castle.

All the best, Mir xxx

Back to the USA

My driver is picking me up at 10:15am.

It's now 9:58am. I'm all packed and ready. Not enough time to do anything of interest, so decided to post a blog instead of pacing the hallway.

I travel quite a lot on business. I never tired of flying, and always have to sit next to the window.

Last time I went via Newark and there were bad snowstorms and long delays. This time I hope the weather will be better, and I am travelling via Detroit for a change.

Well, 10:01am.  Time for the repeated passport checking, hallway pacing, and the (pointless as he will come to fetch me anyway) watching out of the window.

Hopefully the driver will arrive in his full uniform, shades and curly wire earphones (he has done that a few times before), so that our local Neighbourhood Watch think I am working for the Men in Black.

All the best, Mir xxx

Days like this

I work long hours Mon to Thurs, but our office closes midday on a Friday. This is fab, makes a big difference to the weekend.

(I'm in a senior position so I don't get to leave on time much during the week, but my Friday afternoon's are precious!)

Today:

An hour after clocking off time. I'm packing up to leave - get called by a colleague. He has an issue to solve, so I stay to help him.

Two hours later, mostly resolved. I pack up again to come home.

By now the weekend traffic is dreadful. My half hour journey takes me over an hour - bumper to bumper for a lot of it.  Console myself that it's the weekend, even if I have to work for some of it.

Get home, take laptop case out of the car. Laptop case feels suspiciously light.  Open laptop case... have left my FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-ing laptop on my desk at work...

Need laptop...no other options:

Had to drive back to work through even worse traffic, get laptop, drive back home again through the same crap traffic as before...

By the time I got home this time round it was six hours after I was supposed to be finished for the day. So much for my afternoon off...

Ah well, there are days like this I guess!

All the best, Mir xxx

Strange Crop Circle in my Garden

Wondering what on earth could have caused this strange pattern to appear on my lawn... wasn't there the day before. Total mystery:

Could possibly have been me digging, but I'm not so sure...

All the best, Mir xxx

Admire my Hat

You know you haven't grown up properly yet, when..

... you are chairing a professional meeting, discussing a multi-million pound project

...and your very important client is dialed in from overseas via Webex / telecon,

...and most of your own team is present in the room, including younger members who ought to be able to look up to you

... and there is a pause in the conversation while the minutes are taken...

...and during this pause, you have to fight with all your might to stop yourself leaning forward to the phone and singing really loudly...

...Tra la la boom de-aaaaaay
My knickers flew awaay
They came back yesterdaaay
They'd been on holidaaaaay...

One day it's going to happen. I can only hold on for so much longer.

Admire my hat!! It is most fabulous

All the best, Mir xxx

(PS. I am 49, I don't expect the growing up is going to happen any time soon).

Want a Ride on my Spaceship?

Last week, I confided in my work colleagues – I told them about my spaceship.  This was the first time I’d ever told anyone, ever, even though I’d had it since the age of nine, so that’s forty years give or take.  

My colleagues found it hilarious, but we’re a close team and that was OK.  I’m sure they saw the sense in it.

My spaceship may or may not exist.  You can’t touch its hull or eat strawberries from it’s hydroponic garden in this universe, but I like to think there is a layer of the multiverse somewhere where it exists in the traditional sense of ‘real’.   It is crescent shaped, and enormous, and from the outside looks as though it's made of polished silver.

This is why I don't do my own graphics work

The spaceship can accommodate a few thousand people and will be used as an ark when the apocalypse kicks off.

It’s housed in a large aircraft hangar in a field in Cheshire, and is my personal means of punishing the nasty.

There is limited room on my spaceship so not everyone can come.  When the skies are ripped apart and the oceans boil, and Godzilla stampedes through Birmingham, or however the End comes about (not that I believe any doomsday stuff - this is just for concept's sake), there will be people who are under his foot and not on my spaceship.  

I can decide who those are.

It is a very satisfying pastime.  If I meet nice people, I make a mental note that they have a place reserved on the spaceship. If I meet horrible people (or, as I am not always that nice, people that I just don’t like),  then I mentally add them to the ‘barred’ list.

If I meet people who are particularly competent, I might even assign them a job on the ship.  I know, for example, who one of the pilots will be, one of the navigators, two chefs, several of the engineers and some of the mechanics. 

After I’d explained all this to my work colleagues – who reside day to day at the desks next to mine – they all wanted to know whether they are on it.  That, I am not at liberty to say. The essential rule about spaceship is that you can never tell anyone who is and isn't on it.

Clearly this rule will need to be broken when the apocalypse is imminent, so people can pack and that, but I am led to believe there will be Signs*.

(* I am not bananas. I don't believe in an Apocalypse, except perhaps one that we are making for ourselves and probably deserve. But the mental spaceship is a very good de-stresser for when people are being crap and I can't do anything else about it!). 

All the best, Mir xxx

Why does my journal site look so boring?

More info here...

The journal site looks very plain still because Zoe has been really busy. She hasn't had a moment spare to do the designs for me.

After a few months of hard slog and slow days, her creative design business is starting to take off. Very proud of her talent and the effort she has put in to turn her life around. (If you want to read her story it's here).

She still has a long way to go to get enough business to call it a living income, but the last few weeks she has been doing paid work pretty much full time.

So I am happy to put up with a boring site for the time being!

(I do pay her going rate for work she does for me, but her real clients are the highest priority)

All the best, Mir xxx

Millenium

Decided that if I feel the burning desire to inflict poetry on you, it would be better to do it here than in The Somewhat Peculiar Story.

I have a vast collection of poems. Most of it is soppy nonsense, but some I am still quite proud of.

'Millenium' is obviously quite dated now, since I wrote it about the change to year 2000, but the sentiment still carries to every new year that comes around. (I realise that I should probably post this at New Year instead, but <shrug> I happened to come across it today, so here it is).

I hope you like it :)

Millenium

For all the newness promised

By the cleanness of a nought,

And for all the final prophecies

In every culture taught,

And for all the vows to wipe the slate,

Forget the battles fought –

We’ll be the same at five past twelve

As we were the day before.

For all the champagne popping

With its sudden proclamation,

As the date line sweeps unerring

Over every earthly nation,

And we wonder whether mankind’s

Path has any limitation –

We’ll be the same at five past twelve

As we were the day before.

Someone somewhere still will starve

Through drought for lack of rain,

Someone else will swallow pills

To nullify the pain,

In one dark corner someone’s child

Will never breathe again –

It will be the same at five past twelve

As it was the day before.

But if each certain step we take

Brings love a little nearer,

And if each time we close our eyes

Our vision becomes clearer

And if the words we speak are true

Our heart’s a bit sincerer –

We’ll be less to blame at five past twelve

Than we were the day before.

(copyright 2000-2015 Mir Fleur)

All the best, Mir xxx

Mir's Modern Proverb

On the basis of my considerable experience and matriarchal powers, I wish to share a new wisdom that has been revealed to me:

She who forgets to go for a wee before leaving work, gets stuck in traffic jam.

You're welcome,

All the best, Mir xxx

Look, it's dark and I've got my pyjamas on... you're lovely and all that,
but I am not going off up the road in my nightwear to get a picture of a traffic jam for you.
When I was younger and smoked (gave up a long time ago), I did used to go up the off-licence
for a pack of ciggies in my nightdress, but had better legs then.
So have a pic of some nice blackcurrant jam instead :)

Frum (apparently)

Rummaging through the Writing folder in My Documents the other day (there's a lot of junk in there, it's like Steptoe's attic), I came across a file titled 'Frum'.

I opened the file to find (and I quote verbatim and in its entirety):

"Waking to the sound of Weetabix, slowly making its way northwards through pine needles and octopus. I hear elephants in the mist, between the ravines, where the men in dark shorts are carving a pole into the wood.

The stars rattle in a tin next to the bed frame. I push the limit of the popstop, and the wooden tongue lols from the face mask. A hundred beetles scurry across a tourmaline floor, polished  aqua over a frozen waterfall, There is a smell of dust and years. The pages of the book turn slowly in the flat breeze. Yellowed words, once full of meaning, songs of whats and elsewhere, but now forsaken. The man with the totem over his shoulder shrugs and bathes the wood in orange light. It is his ritual and he will die with it. The sand beneath his feet is spotted with blood. She came here once, but not again, because the tourmaline snow was too strong and burned her skin.  Somewhere there is snow again, but not in this place where the pale wood  has a fragrance of seal oil and cinnamon leaf. Too many bones have laid here in the future and in the past.

The moonlight scatters over the tendrils of the bone plants, poking their heads through the canopy of leaves, carrying their mothers in vicious jaws of ice. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Beneath the hair there is a troll, sat squat eating an omelette. The omelette is made from the eggs of the googoo bird which flies beyond the green lime shores. When the troll has finished the omelette I think he will eat Father Christmas, who is unfortunately not made of jam. If only I had a farthing then I could spin that bottle and make an ice lolly. It doesn't do to cross a zebra twice. only the rich can do that and they are more interested in water skiing, the  troll does not go skiing his legs are too short also he does not like snow."

I was confused by this at first. I've never been wired up quite right, but this seemed rather off the wall even for me. Then I remembered that I'd done it as a 'free thinking' exercise, where you have to write as fast as you possibly can without worrying what it is you are putting down, just to get the creative juices going.  So that was reassuring....I think!

Tendrils of the Bone Plants
(or possibly the trees at the bottom of my garden)

All the best, Mir xxx

Hot Crossed Potatoes

Just posted the next episode of The Somewhat Peculiar Story. It is genuinely a complete coincidence that I have reached Easter Saturday in the story on exactly this day, because I didn't plan it. Odd to think that those events happened 42 years ago.

The house smells wonderful at the moment. I made hot cross buns and they have just come out of the oven.  I couldn't be arsed with putting a cross on, and couldn't egg glaze them because of Zoe's intolerance, so Grey tells me I can only call them 'hot buns".

In fact, now they have cooled, they are just 'buns'.

Yes, they do look like mutated potatoes, but they are in fact
my no-hot uncrossed buns

All the best, Mir xxx

.

Another Mir

Searched "Mir" on Google to see what my namesakes are up to.

Of course, there is the Mir space station.

But the second entry down is a Norwegian "creative studio".  Had to share, as the images on their site are well worth a look - some amazing art work!

Take a look at Mir - Bergen, Norway

All the best, Mir xxx

Guess the Word

I've been thinking of a particular word off and on for the last seven years. It's written down in an envelope in my jewellery box.

It's an unusual word that I would not expect to come up in everyday conversation, so it has been my private game to see who might say it.

Just been writing in The Somewhat Peculiar Story about my first premonition, and I remembered this game. Thought it might be interesting to throw it out in the internet and see if I get any response, and who, if anyone, guesses the word.

Don't have a prize to offer, so it's just for fun, but I am hoping it will also be a chance to get to know more people :). Put your guess in a comment or in an email to me.

I will find some way to time stamp the original word so I can't cheat :)

Happy Easter, have a nice holiday!
All the best, Mir xxx