It was pipe like this – except without the bed, the door, the electric light…
Top five oddest places I’ve slept in, on or under…
- In a pipe – at some construction site near Grenoble, France. (“Ce n’est pas un lit,” I thought to myself.) I woke and left before being hoisted up by a crane.
- Under a wardrobe (and some mattresses) – after a big night in Dublin. Took a while to be discovered and then extricated.
- At the edge of a cliff – by accident. It was dark. We had been trekking over some small mountains. We were tired. Luckily – so we didn’t walk any further forward. In the morning we discovered the tent was covered in snow. As was the land on either side. But not in front. That’s where the cliff was – and the sea.
- By petrol pumps near Karlsruhe, Germany. That’s where my last lift dropped me. I’d hitched from Poland. There was grass and undergrowth which looked more soft and inviting, but was rustling with quare fellas.* So a nap amidst the hard surfaces, flourescent lighting and idling engines seemed preferable.
- In the middle of a sentence while broadcasting live on the radio. One moment I was giving out some racing results, then next I was slurring… murmuring… silent. People checked the tuning on their radios. Then they heard snoring. How mortifying.** Continue reading
She’s definitely winking. Picture from a post about Muslim TV sex counseller Heba Kotb on a different blog. (Warning – Some of the comments are graphic. But you’ll be quite safe on Nadia’s blog.)
The art of Muslim flirting. Such a great title. Sounds better than – here’s a round up of interesting blog things. Which is what this really is.
But it begins with Muslims flirting. Nadia El-Awady reveals all here and gives some top tips. Don’t be creepy, but do try arm wrestling Continue reading
Like many people, I don’t devote enough time to my hobby – even though I’m sure I’d be happier if I did.
But other things get in the way – same old story – yadda yadda.
On the plus side, it’s cheap, doesn’t require a uniform, needs no musical knowledge and works well in all seasons.
On the down side, it tends to be left until after everything else.
Some people introduce booze or do it in front of the TV. Others take a mascot.
It’s one of those hobbies that can be done as part of a group, but is probably most enjoyable without a crowd.
Some lucky souls manage to find time at the workplace to hone their skills. How I envy them.
Like most hobbies – the more you put in, the more you get out. I’ve been neglecting mine lately. And people have noticed.
They’ve been encouraging me to spend more time on it.
So I will.
(Oh, didn’t I mention what it was? It’s Continue reading
Cate Blanchett as Charlotte Gray in the eponymous film, flaunting her beret.
“There are times when familiar, reassuring thoughts come back as comforts.” So says Ian Poulton. He’s a Church of Ireland vicar who writes the For The Fainthearted blog.
I’m stealing his thoughts for this post for the Loose Bloggers Consortium. Ian’s a reflective wide-ranging wonderer and storyteller. He was one of the first to encourage me with this here internet writing. And he’s talking about sleep – which is something I want to rediscover for myself – before the bags under my eyes become haversacks.
This is some of what he says about rediscovery:
There is the line in Sebastian Faulks’ moving novel Charlotte Gray, where Miss Gray is about to be parachuted into Nazi-Occupied France as a spy. An RAF bomber is flying her through the night, deep into occupied territory, and one of the bomber crew announces to her that they are just passing over one of the French cities.
It was a reassuring moment to me, the image of an aeroplane moving through a clouded night sky, almost as though it was tiptoeing so as not to wake anyone. The city below was a place I knew from summer holidays, but it was more than that; there is a feeling of safety, of security, in a community asleep below in the deep darkness. Is it perhaps that sleeping people are unthreatening people, or is it that sleep represents a refuge from all the worries of the world?
I remember reading Father Niall O’Brien’s story of his ministry on the Philippine island of Negros, a tale of struggling against violence and oppression. Many of the sugar workers led miserable lives as day labourers, yet there was one moment where Niall O’Brien describes stepping into a hut late at night to be met with darkness in which he could make out the sleeping figures of itinerant workers. Sleep seemed a moment of relief, a few brief hours of respite from the grinding poverty in which they lived.
The late great Pete Postlethwaite as Prospero
For Prospero, in William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, life itself is a Continue reading
First pair to appear on British television in bed together?
You may “sleep together”, but does that mean you actually have to sleep together? Continue reading