A recent report claims that the French European affairs minister, Nathalie Loiseau, had named her cat “Brexit.” Loiseau told the Journal du Dimanche that she chose the name because “he wakes me up every morning meowing to death because he wants to go out, and then when I open the door he stays in the middle, undecided, and then gives me evil looks when I put him out.”
@js I found this in my Notes app, dated December 10, 2016:
In the pub the other night, I overheard three very hefty women talking. Their accent appeared to be Scottish, so I approached and asked: "Hello, are you three bonny lassies from Scotland?" One of them screeched: "It's Wales, Wales, you idiot!" So I apologised and replied: "I am so sorry. Are you three whales from Scotland?" And that's the last thing I remember.
Older sister is visiting Mum for a week. They wanted to visit our younger sister now the renovations on her small house have been completed, but Mum’s car is no longer safe to drive.
I offered to take them down, my car could have done the job but it would have been a bit of a squeeze.
The problem’s been solved, one of my brothers dropped of one of his diesel Ford Mondeos for them to use.
@variablepulserate Try this one, it should work where you are: https://www.youtube.com/watch
I tested it with a VPN set to UK.
Australian folk singer & expatriate Scotsman Eric Bogle: The end of an auld song.
You’re still the first verse o’ my song
The melody that shapes the rhyme
You’re the beat that drives me on
The light that colours every line
A distant echo in my soul
A bright green fading into dark
You’re an ache I can’t control
You’re still an arrow in my heart.
From there to here this road’s been lang
But noo I’m back where I began
At the end of an auld auld sang.
You’re still the hawk’s cry on the wind
In a high and lonely place
You’re snowdrops in the spring
A drunkard’s red and angry face
You’re still the hand that’s free to give
A stiff neck that will not bend
A fierce pride that can’t forgive
A door I open tae a friend
From there to here this road’s been lang
But noo I’m back where I began
At the end of an auld auld sang.
You’re still the bonny Border toon
A grey and ugly housing scheme
You’re Castlemilk and Brigadoon
You’re part real and you’re part dream
You’re Hogmanay and Auld Lang Syne
And pints o’ heavy at the pub
Ach! You’re just a state of mind
But you’re still singing in my blood.
You’re Hogmanay and Auld Lang Syne
And pints o’ heavy at the pub
Ach! You’re just a state of mind
But you’re still singing in my blood.
From there to here this road’s been lang
But noo I’m back where I began
At the end of an auld auld sang.
At the end of an auld auld sang.
I haz a ‘new’ coffee table. It was given to the Men’s Shed group with a heat-damaged varnished top and one leg almost off & the other three quite loose. The donor didn’t want it fixed, just felt we could use the timber.
Investigatrion revealled a bolt missing & all other seven bolts were loose. Replacing/tightening the bolts where needed fixed that part of the problem.
Whatever timber the tabletop was made from, it certainly wasn’t rubbish. When sanded back to bare timber it was really magnificent & worth salvaging.
Two coats of a satin-finish medium dark stain/varnish wiped on with a rag followed by a final coat of dark mahogany stain/varnish applied with a roller finished it off beautifully. Gave a coat of the same to the base & legs of the table.
Once dry, I reassembled it & now it's in my loungeroom.
Super shiny.