Another lovely, sunny, still day in Barnham. No photos of the happy hens or the abundant roses or the Philadelphia blossom as my camera is bust; so here’s one of a Paratha, such as we ate at the Monsoon Restaurant in Billlngshurst, as guests of the new residents of that town.
had a delightlful meal last night of bread, french cheese and sosi… saucisson! absolutely scrumptious. Mayumi is still in desbelief that it tastes so good in comparison to the bilge cheese we get here. she says thank you all so much for the nice gifts!
wow – pretty impressive mama. good idea.
Mama made this card for Liv and Hannah’s new house out of a large leaf that had been used to wrap the rectangle of bean paste given her by Jul.
It was an amazingly neat package, daintily tied with ribbon; and I think the leaf deserves its third incarnation.
a jolly few days back in tokyo. thanks Tan and Geoff, i had an epic time! here are some photos.
A few videos from the recent family get-together:
picasaweb.google.co.uk/NicholasBrockbank/FranceMay09#
And a few from earlier this year:
picasaweb.google.co.uk/NicholasBrockbank/GainsfordFeb09#
If you hit on ‘slideshow’ and adjust the screensize by clicking on ‘google’ at the bottom on the right you can get a reasonable view.
Indeed! I ALWAYS lock – Rio unlocked once at the critical moment, but no spectators! pouring with rain all day here – a small break fora mullberry trip to the lake.
Visiting the toilet facilities on the high speed Southern service back to Barnham from Gatwick, I found myself morphing into Mr L David. I mean, what was wrong with the old fashioned, simple, hinged door cubicles? Gruesome to use, naturally, but eminently practical. No, someone has to devise a ludicrous, crescent shaped entrance wide enough for a car, that opens and closes laboriously at the touch of a button, giving forth to an open plan playground with the same pitiful throne as always wedged into one corner, topped with the familiar stained lid and seat, which need flipping open gingerly with the tip of a shoe, before a urine stream can be sent hopefully in the right direction.
Of course, as soon as I began, the driver applied his brakes and, since there were no nearby walls to lean against, I was jolted off balance, causing liquid mayhem. As I struggled to regain control, the massive door started opening, revealing my antics to half the carriage. Too late, I realised I had forgotten to press the ‘lock’ button.
Can someone explain why the electronic door of a toilet should ever need to shut without at the same time locking itself? What possible eventuality would have a person venture into one of these hideous contrivances, shut the door behind themselves, and be content to have anyone open it while they were inside?
The inventor should be made to stand naked in his own unlocked cubicle while spectators open and close the door at will.
While we’re about it, he or she had engineered three orifices where punters were directed to place their hands: one to bleed soap, another to squirt water, a third to belch hot air. Only the water worked, which explains why wads of damp tissue littered the floor, to which I added a couple of fistfuls of my own.
