plain english – don't confuse the narrator

too late for love

Well, no, it probably isn’t really too late for love, but I singularly failed to write a blog post for Valentine’s Day as I didn’t get finished with work till around ten that night. Although I had found several ideas I thought would be appropriate, I couldn’t face trying to put them all in order at that stage of the day.

So, although it is no longer quite so relevant, I will try to do so now.

To begin with, I thought I could claim that it was romance that had kept me working so late, as I was writing a tender proposal.
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picky

It’s summer and the park is knee-deep in meadow flowers.

It’s also the end of the academic year – time for sports days and garden parties, which explains the following notice, tied to gates of the local school:
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easy questions

A few days ago, a friend sent me a link to an article in the Guardian with the title Unlike life and the universe, Europe has no simple answer.

I’m not sure whether Europe itself has a simple answer, but the official referendum blurb that came through the door recently shows a question that can be answered very simply:

Should we remain in the EU or leave the EU?

That’s a very definite Yes from me. Or perhaps a very definite No.

a new dawn

Perhaps it’s just me, but the headline below (on the BBC website the other day) conjured some bizarre images.

BBC headline: DNA project 'to make UK world leader'

As I wondered what a “UK world leader” would be like and whose dna the scientists would mix and match, there was one name that kept recurring.

Fortunately, the somewhat depressing image of the UK taking over the world with Churchill at the helm was brightened by a mental soundtrack of Tim Curry singing “I can make you a man.”

(For those who want to know the real story of the UK’s genetic research project, it’s here. As for me, I think I’ll go and re-watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show.)

grammatically modified gardening

I was awake earlier than usual today so decided to get straight on with some gardening then send some emails before getting washed and dressed.

Still bleary-eyed when I sat down at the computer, I misplaced my modifiers.

I fear, therefore, that at least one poor soul has been greeted this morning with a message telling them that “I’ve been dead-heading the roses in my pyjamas.”

I’m not going to post a photo of me in my pyjamas, but I hope these pictures help to clarify that the roses are in the garden, not in my nightwear.
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