Ionosphere

In the village the night before the last I lay down in my bed and knocked on the doors to the subconscious. I came into this futuristic mid-air cruise Zeppelin hundreds of kilometres above sea level. The rooms were bloody big and posh, the kids were playing around but the strangest thing I saw was the sky. From right below to around ten degrees below eye level was the daytime stratosphere sky, clear blue with white clouds below. above ten degrees above eye level was that of evening sky, of a darker shade. Between these two zones was a region occupied oddly by a solid purple band. Right above was another gap, this time in the shape of a decagon, that made a deep dark hole in the sky, leading off to space.

Everything else that happened during the past week had been dampeners to our spirit after the exodus from Yunnan. Just the third day I came back to Fuqing I fell sick; didn't get any better until yesterday. The road trips seemed to be the best parts.

I miss my home!

Blogging From Kunming

Well we're finally here after a long and tortuous flight on another boeing 737 plane (though I rather suspected that it was the same one) we finally found the seat belt lights light up, which meant we were descending. Under the wing was a thick blanket of clouds.

Then after our plane broke through that, there was another blanket of clouds beneath us. So we were smack sandwiched between cloud layers. Brilliant. Never before seen anything like that.

And after we broke through that one, we saw Kunming city, where dad's conference is held. I have never seen anything like that either. It's city as far as the eyes could see. It's a concrete jungle as far as the eyes could see... before all is lost beyond the foggy background. Kunming city is one of those megacities in the midlands, as big as -- well, bigger than Singapore Island itself, for example.

They say that the air in Kunming is relatively fresh. They probably haven't been to Cape Town. Here all I could smell is engine exhaust and cigarette.

The view from my hotel room was horrible. So horrible in fact, I took relish under its drabness. It probably inspired a lot of tragedy plays. The window faced the Kunming broadway, which had hardly any traffic lights. If that's not enough, at night the sky turns grey! At least the sky over Singapore is inky black, and stars COULD show up if you looked hard enough.

But on the light side, Julie and her sister are staying with us in the hotel, so I have two more people to talk to... and with more on the way.

Born To Be a Bachelor -- Gaelic Storm

Let-me introduce me-self,
M'name ‘tis Paddy Green.
I am me mammy’s pride and joy
Oh A fine oul’ buachaillin!
I come from the county Waterford,
Near the village of Tramore,
I’ve been livingathome since I was one,
And now I’m forty-four!

Chorus:
I was born to be a Bachelor,
I’ll never walk down the aisle,
Me mam still makes me breakfast,
'm Livin’ it up in shtyle!
Girls, ye’ll never catch me!
Stayin’ single, that’s the plan
Booorn to be a Bachelor -- Sure I’m yer only man! Hah?

Into town on the Saturday night,
All the b’ys go on a spreee...
If you come down to the dishco,
You can have a drink with me!
With the ladies on the dance floor,
I’m a wild and crazy guy,
In me white socks and me black suede shoes,
and me thin red leather tie!

Chorus
I was born to be a Bachelor,
I’ll never walk down the aisle,
Me mam still makes me breakfast,
'm Livin’ it up in shtyle!
Girls, ye’ll never catch me!
Stayin’ single, that’s the plan
Booorn to be a Bachelor -- Sure I’m yer only man! Hah?

Then it’s off to mass next morning,
I’m wearin’ me Sunday best,
I’ve got no wife to fight with,
So I’ve no sins to confess!
After church, the married men
Go home, oh what a shame!
‘Cause I’m scullin’ da pints down at the pub
I’m watchin’ the football game!

Chorus
I was born to be a Bachelor,
I’ll never walk down the aisle,
Me mam still makes me breakfast,
'm Livin’ it up in shtyle!
Girls, ye’ll never catch me!
Stayin’ single, that’s the plan
Booorn to be a Bachelor -- Sure I’m yer only man! Hah?

I’m a ramblin’ ranter, I’m a rollin’ stone,
I’m a galavanter’ g’wan an leave me alone,
If yer out to get married, you’ll get no joy,
Cause I was born and bred to be a bachelor, buddyy!

Up in Lisdoonvarna,
They’ve an old matchmaker’s fair,
The girls all go a huntin’
So you’ll never see me there!
I’ve got a Russian sweetheart,
A fine oul’ thing is she!
She’s out in Vladivostok
And that’s close enough for me!

Chorus x2
I was born to be a Bachelor,
I’ll never walk down the aisle,
Me mam still makes me breakfast,
'm Livin’ it up in shtyle!
Girls, ye’ll never catch me!
Stayin’ single, that’s the plan
Booorn to be a Bachelor -- Sure I’m yer only man! Hah?

Piña Colada in a Pint Glass - Gaelic Storm

La, La La La, La, La la la
La, La La La, La, La la la

She’s working as a waitress in Dublin,
Filling up the tourists with beer,
Stashing away a little cash every day,
For a ticket to ride out of here.

Every night she feels a little bit older,
Every day a little wetter and colder,
No more rain for this Irish Rose,
She’s gonna go (She’s gonna go!) where the palm trees grow!...

Chorus:
She wants a Piña Colada in a pint glass...
She wants to be where the summer won’t stop,
She wants gin clear water and the milk white sand,
A sunburned nose and a drink in her hand
With a pink umbrella on top!

She’s standing in line at the chipper,
Waiting for her curry and peas,
But dying for some of that papaya and rum,
And the kiss of a coconut breeze.

Every night she feels a little bit older,
Every day’s a little wetter and colder,
She’s bought a thong bikini and a big straw hat
She’s gonna go (she's gotta go) and she’s not coming back!

Chorus:

Every night she feels a little bit older,
Every day’s a little wetter and colder...

She’s cleaning up the tables on Sunday,
But she’s dreaming of the tropical night,
Another five or ten in her pocket and then,
She’ll be closer to the price of a flight!

Every night she feels a little bit older,
Every day’s a little wetter and colder,
She plays Beach Boys records and she dances alone,
And before (before) before she goes home...

Chorus x2



Musings: Most people know only four places in Great Britain: London, Manchester, Liverpool and Arsenal. It takes a while for them to realise that Arsenal is not a city at all.

The Monastic Republic of Mount Athos

I totally did not make it up. Such a place really exists. This republic, occupied by just 1400 monks, is the dead-to-the-world Vatican City of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Being a Greek protectorate, it naturally does not show up on the world map.

The Mount Athos Info Site
Oops. I just had to tell everyone.

Johnny Tarr

Lemme tell you a little story about a man named Johnny Tarr.
He was a hard drinking son of a preacher, he was always at the bar.
Lager from the tap or shots of Paddy from the shelf.
He could open his throttle and throw back a bottle as quick as the devil himself.
Johnny Tarr!

Word got around that Johnny Tarr was no pretender.
From Clare to here they'd lock up the beer when Johnny went on a bender.
Down at Dickey Mack's, the Rising Sun, or at the Swan,
If he was drinking at seven by ten to eleven well all the booze would be gone!
Johnny Tarr!

Chorus:
Even if you saw it yourself, you wouldn't believe it.
And I wouldn't trust a person like me, if I were you.
I wasn't there. I swear I have an alibi.
I heard it from a man who knows a fellow who says it's true!

It was nine in the morning on a cold rainy night.
Johnny rolled into the Castle Bar, looking to get tight.
He had money in his pocket, he had whiskey in his eye.
He said, "Get up off your asses and set up the glasses. I'm drinking this place dry!"

Now all the serious boozers, they were soon broken hearted,
When Johnny finished off six and he was only getting started.
Guzzling down the pints, knockin' em back like candy.
He was lookin' alright to be drinkin' all night, then Nora brought out the Brandy!
Johnny Tarr!

Chorus

Johnny drank the whole damn bottle, had another pint or two.
When it made no impression he started his session with Murphy's Millenium Brew.
He was waiting for his pint when his face turned green --
Jesus, Johnny fell down after only fifteen!

You could have heard a pin drop, then the crowd let out a ROAR!
It took five Cork women to lift Johnny off the floor!
The doctor looked him over and said, "you better call the hearse,
But it's not what you're thinkin'. It wasn't the drinkin'! This man died of thirst!!"

The Children of Lir - extract

'One day, from their island home of Inish Glora, the children were awakened by a strange sound. It was the ringing of a bell. It was rung by a holy man, a follower of Patrick, who had built a little church on a nearby island. The bell called him to pray each morning and evening. The swans realized their exile was over. They flew to the church and were welcomed by the Christian. From their singing he guessed that they must be the children of Lir, whose story had become legendary. "Your ordeal is over," he said. "A new religion of love has come to Ireland. Through it you will be freed."'


Teachers' Day celebrations, eh? Not much happened this time. Cards went to a lot of teachers, 's all I can remember, wot. Fingers are tired. Can't type much more.

Girl From The North Country -- Bob Dylan

Well, if you're travelin' in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.

Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm,
When the rivers freeze and summer ends,
Please see if she's wearing a coat so warm,
To keep her from the howlin' winds.

Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That's the way I remember her best.

I'm a-wonderin' if she remembers me at all.
Many times I've often prayed
In the darkness of my night,
In the brightness of my day.

So if you're travelin' in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.

We Can Rule You Wholesale

We can rule you wholesale is the national anthem of the fictional city state of Ankh-Morpork in the Discworld series of fantasy novels by Terry Pratchett.

It was not written by a native Ankh-Morporkian, but by the visiting vampire Count Henrik Shline von Überwald (born 1703, died 1782, also died 1784, 1788, 1791, 1802, 1804, 1807, 1808, 1821, 1830, 1861, finally staked 1872). His inspiration came from his observations that Ankh-Morpork's chief means of defence was not warfare but corruption, bribery and mercantile tactics, since most the weapons used against the city were actually made there in the first place.

The anthem is particularly noteworthy for being the only one that has a second verse officially constisting of incoherent muttering. Count von Uberwald had also made the observation that any group of people singing their country's national anthem never remembers how the second verse goes anyway, so he decided to make things easier for Ankh-Morpork.

In formal occasions, the anthem is supposed to be performed by a large soprano singer wearing a sheet and holding a torch in one hand and a fork in the other.

"When dragons belch and hippos flee
My thoughts, Ankh-Morpork, are of thee
Let others boast of martial dash
For we have boldly fought with cash
We own all your helmets, we own all your shoes
We own all your generals - touch us and you'll lose.
Morporkia! Morporkia!
Morporkia owns the day!
We can rule you whoselsale
Touch us and you'll pay.

We bankrupt all invaders, we sell them souvenirs
We ner ner ner ner ner, hner ner hner by the ears
Er hner we ner ner ner ner ner
Ner ner her ner ner ner hner the ner
Er ner ner hner ner, nher hner ner ner (etc.)
Ner hner ner, your gleaming swords
We mortgaged to the hilt
Morporkia! Morporkia!
Hner ner ner ner ner ner
We can rule you wholesale
Credit where it's due."

The final part of the anthem is usually sung much louder than the rest of the second verse, since the singers want to show they know the words...

The anthem was actually written in 1999 by Pratchett (words) and Carl Davis (music), for the BBC Radio 3 programmme The Music Machine. It was performed by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra and the soprano was Clare Rutter. It was also performed at that year's Proms by the Prommers' Orchestra and Chorus.

-- from wordiq.com

Dunmore Cave is up and running!

Lolololol.
There always seems to be a sense of uneasiness when I create a new, brand new, blog. Writer's block comes where it is most unlikely to strike me in THE FIRST ENTRY. I herefore name this phenomenon "The First Day in Dunmore Cave Syndrome" and declare it unique to ME. If you suffer from the same thing you'll have to find your own name.