Laughing boy has been called LB for many years now because he is very funny, without any sniff of trying to be funny. It’s a mystery, but very, very entertaining. Continue reading
The accidental comedy genius
1
Shepherd’s Bush
This is a bit of a saucy one, so be warned…. Richy Rich and I were coming back from London on a very busy bus, one Sunday morning. We were both listening to music on headphones and chilling out, when the bus stopped at Shepherd’s Bush. Richy leant across to me and said in a very, very loud voice; “Have you ever had a shepherd in your bush, dear?” Continue reading
The Eddie Stobart Story
These posts aren’t in a chronological order, so this probably won’t have the resonance it should. But random is good (sometimes). Laughing Boy came into the kitchen tonight and said “Thank you mum for phewddryfhddndfhrrhsssvvbnrtt”.
Whoa!!! Wha?? LB initiating a conversation? Unprompted? That isn’t about a need (toilet, internet access, maintenance of routine…) This is amazing. A “thank you” opening??? What are you saying LB???? Continue reading
Chicken bone man and extreme porn
Public places, shops, cafes and transport are endless sources of fascination, full of half heard conversations, snippets of drama, humour, puzzles and mysteries. The underlying question for me is always; how do we all manage to rub together so effectively? Old Garfinkel helps out with that question, especially with his rule breaching exercises where he got students to go and deliberately break social rules in order to make visible the intricate layers of shared understandings people have about what is acceptable or otherwise. Continue reading
The Museum of Weddingkind
I’ve illustrated most blog posts with a photo or drawing (he he he), but this post is just photos. Wedding photos taken at the Museum of Civilisation, Ottawa. It got a bit difficult to work out who was exhibiting what…
The kiss
Reflections from the First Peoples Hall
Moroccan weekend away: Part 3
I’ve had a lot of nagging to do the next bit of this saga, so here it is. Just to summarise the story so far, we are at Heathrow on our way to Marrakech for a weekend away, Richy has retrieved the tickets, wallet and passports he left on the roof of the car in the long stay car park at Terminal 2, and we’re at Terminal 4 where we’ve just found out our plane leaves in 50 minutes from Gatwick. (see Part 1 and Part 2) Continue reading
Medical spin and the sleep study
Just a warning for all you humour lovers; this isn’t a funny post (or a Moroccan disaster post), more a reflective one. You can switch off now if you want… Continue reading
*,,;&’*”-).
Im hoping the statute of limitations has passed on this one and everyone involved has retired When I was working as a research assistant at the other Hometowny university I was given a very important job by the head of the school Could I oversee the printing of the end report for a very large five year programme of work It was going to take the form of a big glossy brochure to be mailed out to everyone and their dog Continue reading
The dutyfree thief
Richy, Petey and I were on our way back from a trip from Amsterdam. They had both been working and I’d had a chilled time (including my first experience of a flotation tank). Anyway, as usual there was a cock up over flying times and Petey got us to the airport about 5 hours before we had to. We all got so bored hanging around, drinking endless cups of coffee and dozing, that we nearly missed the call for our flight and ended up running to the gate. Once in our seats there was an announcement over the tannoy. Someone had taken a passenger’s dutyfree Gitanes at the hand luggage x-ray. Continue reading
21st birthday bundle
A few years ago, we were all invited to Danny’s 21st party. It was being held in a big old pub in Hometowny and the party was in full swing when Richy Rich and I arrived with all the kids. As we walked through the lobby, a strapping young guy leapt on top of Richy and wrestled him to the ground in an arm lock. Me and the kids stepped over the pair of them and made our way to the bar.
“A pint of Carlsberg, pint of London Pride, four cokes and an orange juice, please”, I asked the girl serving behind the bar.
“I think he liked me”, said Richy, tucking his shirt back into his jeans, as he joined us at the bar. We made our way to a table near the disco.
Credits: Thanks to Mary (and Danny) for a great evening. A sneaky ‘big up’ to My life My Choice..
mydaftlife 