Greetings and welcome,
I'm not posting on this blog anymore. I've moved everything over to my own server, and Wordpress.
If you're still interested, go here: timetravelopps.co.uk/blog
Turrah,
x
Thursday 16 July 2009
Thursday 14 August 2008
Pieces Of Eight (3)
Eight photos from the walk to work. 8 AM.
1) Jenny driving away.
2) Dark tower of Central Library.
3) St. Werburghs
4) Broken clock on Friargate.
5) Another clock, just before the bridge.
6) Window owl.
7) Faceless clock.
8) The Vinegar Stone (edge of quarantine zone during The Plague. This is as far as traders came, and collected money left soaked in vinegar to decontaminate.)
1) Jenny driving away.
2) Dark tower of Central Library.
3) St. Werburghs
4) Broken clock on Friargate.
5) Another clock, just before the bridge.
6) Window owl.
7) Faceless clock.
8) The Vinegar Stone (edge of quarantine zone during The Plague. This is as far as traders came, and collected money left soaked in vinegar to decontaminate.)
Friday 8 August 2008
Pieces Of Eight (1)
Here is a link to a muxtape I have made.
There are eight songs on the muxtape.
These eight songs are some of my favourite songs. And they are the songs that I wanted to listen to this morning when I woke up.
http://biff.muxtape.com
There are eight songs on the muxtape.
These eight songs are some of my favourite songs. And they are the songs that I wanted to listen to this morning when I woke up.
http://biff.muxtape.com
Monday 4 August 2008
8 Things On The 8th Day Of The 8th Month Of The 8th Year Of This, The 21st Century
That's what I'm thinking of doing. Eight is my favourite number. When it falls over it is infinite. When it is multiplied by eleven you can travel through time.
I got to work and started writing on the board on the wall with the pen that you can do that with. I like having the room to do this. I could never do this when I worked from home, and there was never a board on a wall at the office where I used to sometimes work when I wasn't working from home. It's better than notepads and .txt files. It's better than recycled paper or post-it notes. So I wrote down a note about Friday and the eights all started rolling out.
I went and put the kettle on, and thought about it being ages before that date comes along again. 8/8/2108 it will be. The other lining up of eights will be in 8/8/2088 but, unless I live past one-hundred and six years old I won't be around. If I am I either won't be able to see, or will be more machine than man and have no feelings...unless the sight of all those eights together triggers a flood of emotions in my circuit board brain and sends waves of electrons to blow my flux capacitor heart to smithereens with the vastness of it all.
Either way, Friday is the eighth day of the eighth month of the eighth year in this century. And at eight minutes past the eighth hour on that day, I'm going to do something that involves eight things. I might write about it here, I might even have pictures, but I might not as, after all, they're only numbers, but they're my favourite ones...
I got to work and started writing on the board on the wall with the pen that you can do that with. I like having the room to do this. I could never do this when I worked from home, and there was never a board on a wall at the office where I used to sometimes work when I wasn't working from home. It's better than notepads and .txt files. It's better than recycled paper or post-it notes. So I wrote down a note about Friday and the eights all started rolling out.
I went and put the kettle on, and thought about it being ages before that date comes along again. 8/8/2108 it will be. The other lining up of eights will be in 8/8/2088 but, unless I live past one-hundred and six years old I won't be around. If I am I either won't be able to see, or will be more machine than man and have no feelings...unless the sight of all those eights together triggers a flood of emotions in my circuit board brain and sends waves of electrons to blow my flux capacitor heart to smithereens with the vastness of it all.
Either way, Friday is the eighth day of the eighth month of the eighth year in this century. And at eight minutes past the eighth hour on that day, I'm going to do something that involves eight things. I might write about it here, I might even have pictures, but I might not as, after all, they're only numbers, but they're my favourite ones...
Tuesday 8 July 2008
Oink Is Well Safe
Bloody buggers been bullying the buffalo. Bar Stards.Man with spare CCTV cameras donates to OINK. Security light as well.
No more messing with the moo.
Good.
(I might cycle up there today and take Oink a watermelon.)
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