Test 3 (Ignore)

I'm still here, are you?

Test 2 (Ignore)

Just testing to see if Blogger FTP publishing to my hosting is still working.

Test 1 (Ignore)

Testing

Is There Anybody in There?

Yeah yeah, it's been a while hasn't it? Twitter and my new job (nearly 6 months now) have sort of been the death knell for this blog. However, the google Adsense revenue still surprises me and with the collapse in Sterling versus the US Dollar it cannot be ignored.

Anyway, I received an unwelcome email from my hosting company telling me the great news they were to change things relating to my hosting. This always fills me with dread especially when they mentioned the changes would be automatic and seamless. They wont be and will almost certainly break the blog so I'd thought I'd prepare by reacquainting myself with the settings and what will need to be changed to keep it alive.

So, a bit of test posting to look forward to and then, maybe even some new content but dont hold your breath.

Hurrah

As you can see I've added the twitter sidebar back to the blog to give the illusion of life. That is all, carry on.

Category:

• Blog
• Twitter

Remembrance Sunday

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

Category:

• Remembrance

The Happiest Days of Our Lives

School days of course, we're all supposed to love them, harking back to a gentler, kinder world. Bollocks to that.

I got a phone call, out of the blue the other night, from someone I'd never heard of, they'd got my number from my Dad (thanks Dad) and were arranging a 25 year reunion from my A Level 6th Form days (1981-1983)*. A shudder went down my spine. At that moment I couldn't think of anything I'd like to do less than attend a School reunion and a week later I still can't. Sticking pins in my eyes is more preferable. What are these people on?

It doesn't help that the school was a cliquey bunch of wankers who I despised with every part of my intellect. The Rugger Buggers, the hockey girls (you really need to say "girls" in an affected Edinburgh accent for full effect, even though the school in question is in Norn Iron) the posh, the spawn of civil servants, geeks (the 6th form had an Apple II computer no less, heady times indeed). That school (which will remain nameless to protect the plebs) was mirrored in every US High School Comedy/Horror show of the last 30 years. I hate it, them and everything about it.

Now if it had been a reunion from my O level days (1979-1981) that would have been a different story. Different School, different (better) people. In that case fond memories outweigh the nightmares. We were a great bunch, fighting against the bitch thatcher in all our mod or blitz kid finery, happy days indeed.

* I politely declined.

Category:

• Personal
• School

deviants 2 : 4 Rangers

Is Super Ally having a laugh at wee chesney? Surely not.

Match Report.

Category:

• Sport
• Football