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Jiggery pokery

I am not sporty, and there are exactly two detailed depictions of sport in media of any kind that I can easily think of that I like.
One is the brilliantly-described cricket match in Dorothy Sayers' Murder Must Advertise.

This song is the other one. Read more...Collapse )
"bleh! What have you done to the beautiful dialect of the smilarilion? You've trashed it and made it modern! That is a travesty, and no true fan of tolkein would do this. I reject this work."
-- an unregistered user on archiveofourown

I love this comment so much that I am seriously considering getting it printed on a t-shirt.  I keep reading it again and it makes me fall over laughing again.

A Not Far Away Holiday

We went on holiday to the other end of Cornwall!   To the village of Helford.

A huge post full of photosCollapse )

3 Tolkien drawings

I was going to try to do Inktober, (a drawing a day in ink) but I have a new pencil and got carried away with that instead.  Ink is so scarily permanent.
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I need to remember to try to make the people in pictures big. Drawing tiny tiny faces is so hard. 

A Made-Up Timeline for the War of Wrath

I think I arrived at a timeline to go with these maps.  I might make some maps of my own at some point.   Still haven't finished Dead Feanor.  I need to just write the period 565-587, the story has an ending (well, actually it has two endings, but I decided it was stupidly long enough already so I'm going to finish it at the end of the First Age, and then maybe do Eregion and Feanor the Barrow Wight later).

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Cornwall Beavers!

There's a project I just discovered to reintroduce the beaver to Cornwall! (stop sniggering at the back there!)

These are official anti-flooding beavers, not like the unofficial beavers that went on the lam in the Tamar Valley a few years back, or the very unofficial beaver that they caught when they were looking for the unofficial escaped beavers, which wasn't supposed to be there at all (it was younger than the beaver they were looking for, and the wrong sex).

Three Le Carre paintings

I made these for Remix Revival: an art remix for the short story Maybe Just Living. It was nice to have an excuse to paint some Oxford scenes, though it's surprising how hard it is to find reference photos for Oxford scenes that are not quite the typical picture-postcard. I had to paint the Trinity gates from the Google streetmap image and try to make up the lighting in my head from memory. I thought there would be loads of photos of Broad St at night, but no, apparently not.
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Regrets  : 2544 words, Gen.  Curufin, in the Halls of Mandos, does his homework.

Five pages of regrets, written in a language no-one knows. I’ll parcel them up and give them to the Maiar of Mandos. Who knows? Perhaps I will have bought a little of my father’s time, which like his Silmarils is stolen from him and held by others who have no right to claim it.

Knackered Things

Still having a knackered shoulder / neck /arm that was causing me quite a bit of pain, I decided to go to a physiotherapist who lives in a little hut in a back garden in Tavistock.  It doesn't have chicken legs so I''m fairly sure that is OK.

She poked, prodded, acupuncted, used some sort of sound wave device that I'm fairly sure came directly from an episode of Star Trek, and by the end I had stopped hurting at least for a while, which was a huge relief, and got a proper night's sleep, ditto.  It remains to be seen how long-term effective this will be : I did hurt quite a bit today, but not so continuously.   And I have an exercise to do, and was given instructions about which over the counter pain thing to buy, which was also very helpful.

Also knackered: my car poor Helga Saab, whose suspension has completely given up the ghost.   I joined a local artists group, went off to the first meeting, which was fun, and was halfway back and feeling cheerful when suddenly there was a sudden loud thumping noise...

Apparently they aren't making suspensions for 2002 Saabs any more and even used parts for the suspension are 'like gold dust' so Helga has gone to Car Graveyard.  We went today to see a couple of cheap old bangers, since we do need to replace her.  Pp's car is not really much use for carrying dogs, canoes, or boxes of role-playing stuff.   After some debate, we put down a deposit on an ancient and cheap Volvo V70, which after only 142,000 miles and 14 years looks considerably younger than Helga did.   Not 100% that we will buy it since it juddered a little at speed, but the place that's selling it is going to sort the wheel alignment which I hope will fix that.

If we do buy her, I think I'm going to call her Gambara.  I was thinking it looked more like a male car, for some reason, but on the other hand, it's a Volvo, so should have a vǫlva kind of name, and this story about the Lombards is way too wonderful not to use. 


Sunrise in the Tamar Valley

Courtesy of two very cheerful gentlemen who phoned at exactly 7am to say they would be arriving in 10 minutes with a delivery. A good thing they did, because otherwise I would have been asleep.  Before the delivery arrived the village looked like this:

And afterwards it looked like this:

I'd walk the dog but she refuses to admit that times before 8am exist and is still fast asleep refusing to awake. 

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