Tag Archives: swimsuit

Pessimism v Optimism (& Pies)

The world’s most accurate pie chart. The pie is not yet half eaten.

Conrad asks: Is pessimism more realistic than optimism?

This is the point when people start talking about glasses being half empty or half full. Too late. I’ve drunk it. Though I know where there’s more. Which means… Dunno.

But why talk about glasses when there are pies to consider. Doesn’t just looking at that fans flames of optimism in your stomach?

And sure – it may seem like the summer in Britain is fit only for ducks and Noah. But whatever the weather, don’t forget it’s swimsuit season! Doesn’t that thought and the picture below cheer you up? Continue reading

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Filed under D - Loose Bloggers Consortium

Uninvited guests – welcome and unwelcome

I've had some grief from Grannymar in the past about gratuitous swimsuitery - but surely this must count as editorially justified. And gorgeous. (Phoarr.)

It’s summer. It’s sunny. So the bad news is that it’s time to dredge up your swimming cossies.

Eek! I know.

I’m sure Well Done Fillet is not the only one battling with left over winter padding. But never fear, the Good Greatsby has a wonderful list of ways to overcome any embarrassment or shyness you may feel. There’s bound to be an answer that suits you.

But the good news is that it’s time for another guest post from Pam, who lives down the street from me in our village.

You may remember her first guest post about the rabbit lady, the evacuees, the rat catcher and how it was When no one locked their doors on my street.

Well, Pam’s back with a summery account of uninvited guests and how to treat them way back when- featuring foxes, hikers, horses and hunters. So, over to Pam, with more tales of a southern English village:

Although it was before my time, I was told by a neighbour, Mr Ben Batting who lived at No.37, that originally, before the road was built, the oak tree at No.17 used to be on the corner of three fields. When there was a fox killed by the hunt, it used to be nailed to this tree. Before World War Two fox hunting around the woods and fields was a common sight.

One day a Continue reading

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Filed under friends, history, In the village