Welcome to the world of the Vincent D'Onofrio obsessed - and a bit of real life thrown in.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Mr Doherty, our lovely, soft-spoken Irish teacher of English, was a favourite, and we would have enjoyed copying out the Bible for him. He introduced us to Pygmalion and Gerald Durrell, Macbeth and debating. We had him for just a year, when we were 12-13 years old.
In computerspeak I have always assumed that when something fails to parse, it means that the grammar of the code is not being read properly. But I could so easily be wrong.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Unfortunately the object of the picture below is too tiny to see - it's a pygmy marmoset, and it's in the middle of the shot, level with the toucan's head, looking like a little bump between the branches in the middle of the shot that almost shape a V. I forgot to take my camera with me and these shots were all taken with my mobile phone, which refused to zoom. If you click on the picture, though, it should get big enough for you to see the sweet little creature.
Below are the rather larger silvery marmosets, thoroughly enjoying a mutual groom in the sunshine.
The elusive two-toed sloth was slumbering in the branches of this tree. It's very well-camouflaged - look for it dead-centre of the picture.
I decided to take a different route home so that I could see the turf in Trafalgar Square, which I first heard was there for 24 hours, then someone said 48 hours. It had already gone, so I guess the first information was correct. There is no sign it was ever even there. No need to panic, Holly. I doubt very much that the concrete and paving are original to the square, and no-one's talking about tearing down any of the monuments. Personally I quite like the idea of turfing it for good, though there would have to be lots of paths across it, or in wet weather it would soon become a quagmire. The paving is very hard, hot and unforgiving. Not a very nice environment, especially as the place is one huge traffic roundabout. Much better to turn it into a park.
When I arrived back at my local station, I decided to time myself walking home (don't ask why, I have no idea). I'd bought an iced latte at the start of the journey, and was about to throw the container into the bin, when I decided to take it home and put it in the recycling bin. A few hundred yards on, I came across a woman sitting on a wall with her small son who was having a nosebleed. I asked if I could help. I have no first aid skills, but suddenly I remembered my drink carton, complete with ice. I poured it into the serviette and she put it on the bridge of the boy's nose.
A few yards further on I saw my window cleaner and we had a chat. He was telling me about the lame cheetah a nearby bird-of-prey centre has adopted and is trying to train to hunt. It cannot live a normal life because of its deformity, so this is probably the best offer it will ever have.
I was still on course to make it home in 15 minutes instead of the 10 I'd anticipated, but then I saw some neighbours leaning on their gates nattering, so I stopped and joined in. Well, you can't be anti-social, can you?
I finally arrived home about 35 minutes after I left the station. Not a record for speed. Sadly, not even a record for slowness!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Seems to me this is an Artist's Impression.
London is pretty-well made up of villages, at least the outskirts are. I live on the edge of a surviving one, called Ladywell. It's not exclusive enough to get any attention like Hampstead or Barnes, but it's mine and I love it.
While looking (fairly unsuccessfully) for pictures of the above spectacle, I came across this picture of a two-toed sloth at London Zoo. I hunted high and low for a sighting of this cute creature last time I was there, without success.
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