Via Theresa, another quiz:
I’m the snake print Doc Marten…
I’m a wild child and I live on the edge baby!
Which Doc Marten are you?
(by *coffeebean*)
Which reminds me: I need to look for a new pair of docs in Scotland (they are marginally cheaper, oooh, and maybe I can get them duty-free, too, must check that) I was intending to go for plain black, though, not snakeskin. I’m not sure which model to go for, though. Something like this would do me nicely:
I’d also really like a pair with the Union Jack.
Ahem. Money, money, money. The Union Jacks may have to wait.
Apparently, someone found my site searching for “Disney’s Greatest Hits On Ice” on Yahoo. Huh? I can’t help but feel they must have been disappointed in their original goal. Hopefully they had a laugh before checking another link out. Well, I do have the Disney’s Greatest Hits double CD, maybe I’ve mentioned it at some point?
I’ve seen so many comments about fall coming the last few days. There have been a lot of comments at work, too, and that’s easy enough to explain – but how come the fall feeling has arrived all over Europe and on the other side of the Atlantic at the same time? Maybe it’s just a case of me noticing the comments because I have been having that fall feeling myself?
The change here has been marked. We’ve gone from 20+ degrees to “brr, it’s cold in the shadow” what seems like overnight. It’s great. I’m not a summer-person, in fact, summer is probably my least favourite season (with Spring and Autumn sharing the top spot). I like chilly air. I like rain. I like wind. I like curling up with a book under a blanket, knowing that it is cold and unpleasant outside, but I also rather like going for a walk in all the “unpleasantness”. The one mitigating feature of summer is thunderstorms, but there are too many days of excessive sun and heat. I’m glad it’s almost October.
Autumn is also a much better season for travelling than summer. This is not my attempt at persuading myself because my holidays start Sunday, simply a statement of fact as I see it. There are less people (my misanthropic tendencies have been mentioned before), and the people that are around are more likely to be locals and so A. more fun to talk too anyway and B. more likely to be able to tell you such things as which of the village’s pubs serves the best food, and when (you know those “Good Food Served All Day” signs? They are often inaccurate on several counts). There is also, at least for me, a limit to how warm the weather can be before all I want to do is find an airconditioned room and stay there permanently (or at least until hell freezes over). Whereas the limit to how cold it can be before travelling becomes really uncomfortable lies safely below anything I am likely to get south of the polar circle outside the months of December, January and February (which, you will notice, do not classify as “autumn”). The light, certainly thinking in terms of photography, tends to be more interesting in autumn (or spring), too. In summer, I tend to take my best pictures at dusk, the light at mid-day is too harsh. This is a preference, naturally, and also probably due to my lack of technical finesse as far as photography goes.
Tuesday morning when I got up I realised I was up before the sun (not by much, though) – the sky in the east was almost indecently pink. That was the first sure sign of autumn for me. The other was that chill in the air that makes you catch your breath when stepping out of a warm house.
Looking forward to the trees turning yellow and red. In the meantime:
Voice in my head:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
and be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one, as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other as just as fair
and having perhaps the better claim
for it was grassy and wanted wear,
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them, really, about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I saved the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh,
somewhere ages and ages hence;
two roads diverged in a wood and I,
I took the one less travelled by
and that has made all the difference.
(Apologies to Robert Frost for inaccuracies in the punctuation, I’m quoting from memory.)