“I was layin’ out there for two damn hours before anyone came to check on me! Heat stroke, it turns out. Just as well it wasn’t a stroke stroke, I’d be dead.”

I just listened to a podcast on this whole saga - what a wild ride.

Struwwelpeter. We had an English copy handed down by my grandfather. It’s insane.

Example: “Die gar traurige Geschichte mit dem Feuerzeug (“The Very Sad Tale with the Matches”): A girl plays with matches, accidentally ignites herself and burns to death. Only her cats mourn her.”

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Struwwelpeter

– pay for a large residence and security on the outskirts, then stay inside. Use disguises/body doubles when going out.

So … you can everything you want, except sponteneity? Or privacy, with all those staff hanging around. And there’d still be some douche tracking your private jet.

Ha ha, read this wonderful piece through thinking, sounds great but what would I ever make? And then omg, yarn winder. I’m a knitter, and my yarn winder is a plastic monstrosity. I mean I’m never going to do it myself, but there definitely is a market for beautifully machined yarn winders.

Thanks! Will do some more research…

Oh dear. I was planning to visit Japan in the autumn. Guess I will give it a swerve. Maybe Korea then? I haven’t flown anywhere since the Before Times and have a hankering for foreign travel.

Catch-22.

It was partly because my parents forced me into a scholarship that was tied to teaching afterwards - I was entirely unsuited to being a teacher, but neither of them even attended high school, and to them being a teacher was the pinnacle of achievement. I was pretty good academically but university overwhelmed me, so between that and no incentive to succeed, I failed miserably, only passing a few courses. I ended up getting a professional qualification (not a degree) in my 30s and had a decent career.

Living in a squat for a few years showed me I would have made a fantastic electrian or plumber, but you had to have a penis for that for some reason.

That sounds like a protection racket.

But but but it saves users from doing “gymnastics with their eyes”!! Jaysus, what a load of bs.

I hate algorithms, they narrow everything down, desperate to squeeze you into a little box. FB knows how old I am, so while I’m stalking my nieces it shows me ads for incontinence pants, tea towels and comfy shoes. It became a complete turn off with Netflix, it’s part of the reason I cancelled. Don’t miss it.

Oh yes, I’d forgotten about Winnie. I have a lot more respect for science and literature prizes than the peace prize though. Harder work, I reckon.

Is this the first Nobel laureate to run a country? How bloody amazing. Well done Mexico!

Beekeeping. Just don’t start is my advice. Don’t get fascinated by the little buggers and their life cycle, don’t get hooked on honey. Don’t sit by the hive entrance watching the foragers come and go. Don’t spent hours reading books and blogs, watching videos and browsing catalogues. Don’t talk to other beekeepers. Don’t take classes to expand your knowledge, don’t take exams, don’t get into microscopy to further expand your knowledge. It’s too late for me - save yourselves!

1626, three-storied house.

The swastika is still a positive symbol in Asia. In northern India for example: https://vajiramias.com/current-affairs/project-swastik/5e76ddb61d5def05d74372f2/

Someone said that to me just the other day! That saying “no problem” implies there might be a problem. Crazy. I’m thinking of switching to “well it was quite an imposition on my time and energy to help you out, especially given you’re not paying me, but I’ll let it slide this time because you seem like an ok person and I’m in a good mood” just to annoy them.

I go with “no wuckin furries”.

“You can love the company as much as you like, but the company will never love you back.” - My dad.

One time I was walking through a city centre after midnight after drinks with friends - who told me to get a taxi because it’s so dangerous. I got to a pedestrianised street and there at the orher end was a group of tough-looking POC in hoodies. Uh oh. There seemed to be an argument in progress. Uh oh. I carried on though, to avoid a long detour. As I got nearer I caught the drift of the argument. “We’re only telling you this because we love you, mate.” Muffled sobbing. “Yeah, we worry about you! We want you to be happy!” It was teens in the midst of a full-on psychodrama, actually quite wholesome. I carried on home, berating myself for racial profiling. For a non-event it had quite a profound effect on my thinking.