Swings and roundabouts.

My weekend was very up and down.
So, if you're sitting comfortably, then I shall tell you about it.

Up: Spent Friday night in watching TV and redying my hair. On Saturday we went to Asda, and picked up some Halloween decorations, then went home for a nap before we went out that evening. We were going to the Mission (an 'alternative' club) and it was fancy dress, so I wore my black and red PVC nurse's uniform (a very lazy costume, actually, as I was just wearing my big boots as per usual, and all I had to do was buy tights. I went for opaque black ones, as I felt that fishnets were too slutty-hen-night) and then just lots of eye make-up and purple hair all flaily. Let me tell you, clubbing whilst wearing plastic (however small a costume it is) is quite hot work. It was a good night, and for once I didn't get too drunk and fall over. At one point we got a guy kicked out by the bouncers for harassing my sister and I. Then I discovered one of my ex art tutors upstairs with his boyfriend, so I spent most of the night hanging out with them. When we got in at a bit after 4am, I just stripped off and dived under a cold shower. Bliss.

Down: I woke up with a painful hand yesterday, which I can't explain as I didn't do anything to it. It still hurts, and it's getting worse. I have made a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. It seems inflamed around the thumb, and I can't use it for anything. Good thing it's my left hand, and I'm right-handed. We got snuggled up to watch a film and maybe have a nap in the afternoon, then were disturbed by my family unexpectedly knocking on our door, picking us up for a trip to IKEA that we'd completely forgotten about.

Up: Once we actually got to IKEA, it was quite fun. Matt, my brother and I went charging about trying all the beds and chairs and stuff. We managed to get hold of some stuff we needed for a really good price, and then my parents drove us to my sister's house, where we watched really awful horror films (Sideshow and Blood Gnome) and ate party food with a bunch of people. Entertainment was had by all. And hysterics.

Down. Very, very down: We got home and found Baal was dead.

Anyone for a quickie?

Very quick update.

I was awoken at 2.30 this morning by someone knocking on our bedroom window. I had been all virtuous and gone to bed early(ish), but that was more or less scuppered by waking up then. It turned out to be my brother asking if he could sleep on our couch, as there were no trains to my parents' house for another four hours. Bastard*.

In BDP news: walking under the BDP, I saw a fork-lift truck with two Pigeons sitting on it. They have become awfully bold recently about their use of mechanical things. I wonder whether this has any connection to the lack of Seagulls around there recently.

Although I suspect the Seagulls are watching and waiting...

*Of course I said yes. And gave him a blanket and all. He was gone by the time I got up.

The ‘Real’ Amityville Horror

There was a programme on Channel 4 last night about the 'real' Amityville Horror. All well and good, I thought. The horror being that Ronald DeFeo, a paranoid schizophrenic with a history of alcohol abuse, shot and killed all six other members of his family whilst they were sleeping, in what could fairly be called a massacre.
It was indeed a tragedy. And horrific.

But no, I was mistaken.

After some vague mentioning of 'voices of demons in his head' and so on, there was an advert break. And afterwards, it went straight into the story (and I use that word with good reason) of the Lutz family, who were the people featured in the book. Now, people have known for quite some time that most of the 'information' given out by them was a web of lies, misinformation and exaggeration in order to get themselves the publicity and riches they wanted. Well, bingo. It worked.

Some of the people they relied on for 'proof' were members of such prestigious career groups as 'psychics' and 'parapsychologists'. The latter later turned out to be a 'vampirologist' too.
*sigh*

Ok. Some other 'proofs'. Ummmmm... some 'psychics' went to the house after all the 'hauntings' had happened, and took lots of photographs. They showed them to an assistant who was pregnant, and she felt jumpy when she looked at them. Seriously.

Hans Holzer, (Not-so-coincidentally the author of two books on the subject. Murder in Amityville is a reasonably interesting report of the court proceedings following Ronald DeFeo's arrest. The Amityville Curse is the worst fiction book I've ever read. More on that in a later update.) professional ghost hunter (Yup! None of those useless amateurs for this case), announced that the house had been built on an ancient Indian burial ground.

What is this, Scooby Doo?

In 1977, Ethel Johnson Myers, a 'medium' (verging on small, I'd wager), announced that there had been violence and death in the house. You could have knocked me down with a feather! That's concrete proof positive of the existence of psychic powers RIGHT THERE!

Oh. Wait. The case of the DeFeos had been massively publicised. Gosh, is my face red.

Anyway, she muttered something about a man being hanged, then said that the men who lived there would be forced to do anything the 'Indian' wanted them to do. Uh-huh.

So. Investigators have discovered that the 'mysterious noises' were the pipes creaking; that the 'room full of flies' was due to the room being warm, and the bodies not having been taken away immediately and therefore having time to... seep a bit; that the window which 'spontaneously' opened and closed was reacting to weight on a specific floorboard; that the 'ghost pig' floating by the window was the massive cat that lived next door jumping up to the window ledge. Apparently, it was called 'Pig' because it was so fat.

They then spoke to the author of the book, who freely admitted that 90% of it was entirely... I'll be polite here, and say 'fabricated out of whole cloth' instead of 'shite', which is what I mean.

Now, this programme both annoyed me, and confused me. They had no cohesive structure, they veered wildly between sceptical and credulous viewpoints, they presented unconfirmed 'evidence' by 'psychics' as fact...

But what worried me most about this whole sordid episode is the effect growing up with this sort of drivel, manipulation, lies and downright greed had on those poor children of the Lutz family.

When everyone involved with them has admitted to the lies and trickery, isn't it time that Kathy and George Lutz grew up, got over themselves, and trundled off into the sunset with their money?


This website is a good resource if you are interested in the REAL horror that occured in that house.

Under the BDP, down by the poo...

*Smashed potatoes.

*What look like some kind of beans. About a centimetre long, and of an orangish/peach colour.

*Two separate portions of chips, one with barbecue sauce.

*The remains of a cheeseburger.

*15 empty beer bottles.

*1 empty Buckfast bottle.

The Pigeons must have had one hell of a weekend...but as far as I can tell, this time no-one got killed.

Twenty questions.

Twenty questions.
Have fun!

What the Dickens?

I get the idea that this site is completely serious.
That's just.... odd.
Vampire forums. Again, supposedly serious, according to someone who claims to know some of them (Yeah, FOAF. I know). Some people are weird.

Stuff, things and items.

1) There’s a song that’s been played on a television advert recently that goes:
“What the world needs now is love, sweet love. It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of…”
Having googled it, it appears that it’s called ‘What the World Needs Now’, and is by Diana Ross.
Well, all fine and dandy then.
The trouble is that it makes me so enraged, because it’s just incorrect.
I can think of about fifteen other things that there’s too little of, just off the top of my head.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

2) My cousin came to visit us last weekend. She’s C of E, and what threw me most was her calm acceptance that, despite the fact that Matt and I are both nice people, we’re going to burn in hell for all eternity because we don’t accept Jesus into our lives. It’s just left me feeling quite weirded out. I don’t believe she’s right, but…y’know.
Brrrr. Anyway…

3) Patriotism. What’s with that? I love Scotland. It’s pretty, and friendly, and I would argue the good points of living here, and it would break my heart to move away. But I don’t believe it is the best place in the world, and I don’t need to deny the fact there’s a soaring rate of teen pregnancy, or heart attacks or whatever. I don’t think it’s the best place in the world just because I happen to live here. We’re great in some ways: we suck in some ways. Just like every other country in the world.

4) Is it weird to keep my hospital bands from when I’ve had my strokes and stuff?

5) I love fresh fish (not in a sexy way). The smell, the feel, the look of them…
I have a fortnight until I can afford any. Damnit! I’m hungry.


LINKS!
My Adopted Ghost...

The Cuddly Menace.

Disney Tattoo Guy.

Around Cardiff with a Coconut.

German phrasebook.

Sexually Frustrated Peaches.

Things are odd under the BDP today. It's quiet. Too quiet.

It’s been bucketing down with rain non-stop for the last few days, so the whole area is in its usual waterlogged condition. Except for one small area which is strangely dry and clean.

The usual remnants of DNA Pigeons (mostly just grey smush, let’s face it) are gone, and I only saw one live Pigeon hanging about the ceiling.

Weirdly, the smell under the BDP gets worse with the rain, which seems to have no effect on the large splashes of Pigeon poo, even with streams running over them. These are the type of stream that your parents warned you never to drink from if you were stranded on a mountain.

A mountain in the middle of the city.

Well, you know what I mean.

And, actually, we have a mountain in the middle of our city. So there.

So, like I said, just the one Pigeon today.
However, there was another stack of pallets by the bridge and, more disturbingly, a flat-bed truck with a miniature crane on it.

Building seems to be moving on at a high rate of knots.

Also, Nettie got jizzed on by peaches. That is all.

Gits, gits, gits...

Well, if I'm a little on the sporadic side for the next couple of weeks, I apologise.
Those charming people at BT Broadband services have cut off my home internet. Apparently, our direct debit has not gone out for the last three months. This is strange. We don't know why it hasn't, and you'd think they could have mentioned it sooner.
So, this being the month when I'm only on half pay due to the unpaid holiday I took last month, it doesn't seem likely that I will be able to get it back up and running at home until the beginning of November.
Crap, say I.

Also, the word of the day is peripatetic.

Graffiti.

I am currently reading (for about the 15th time) Lynne Truss's book 'Eats, Shoots & Leaves'.

She mentions a sign in New York that said:

"Nigger's Out"
Under which, someone had written "But he'll be back shortly".

It reminded me of a, sadly, painted-over piece of graffiti under a bridge here in Edinburgh which read:

"Britian for the Brits!"
Under which, there was:
"Stupid Nazi. Learn to spell!"

There. That was painless, if boring, right? Right?

Holiday Snapshots

After approximately a month, I have eventually got my holiday pictures onto my computer.
So for your delectation, here are some of them, with commentary.

This was the day we went to Wierdale. Wierdale has a beautiful river in a gorge, and lots of pretty scenery. You walk up the valley, alongside the river, and near the top you came to an area with piles and piles of rocks. Fluorite and fossils are rife there, so we generally take a picnic up there and spend the day breaking rocks with our geology hammer, or roaming about the hills. It's lots of fun, in a healthy fresh-air sort of way.

Matt being a gargoyle.


My brother, H, being Thor. Although you can't tell, he is at this moment shouting "I WIELD THE AXE OF POWER!" We didn't like to point out that it was the geology hammer.


Some interesting photos of interesting trees.






We also went to an 'Otter Trust', which would have been more fun, had it not been icily cold and raining very very hard. The otters were... ottery. There were also miniature goats (so. cute. I had the two I was going to try and steal all picked out, and I figured that I could wrap them in my coat to get them out, but my family vetted (ho ho) me for goats before we left. Bastards.) and Highland cows and guinea pigs and rabbits. There was also a massively obese Pigeon sitting on the wall of the barn, that H insisted on calling 'the wall rabbit'. Weirdo.

A Highland Cow in the rain.


The Guinea Pig of DOOOOOOOOM!


Ok. In the second week, we went to see some Viking re-enactors. Now, I've seen more than my fair share of Viking groups, but these ones were really outstanding. I wanted to join in the battles and defeat the bad man. This feeling wasn't helped by the fact that me and H (I know, I know. It should be 'H and I', but that just feels too much like I'm singing the alphabet song...) had bought plastic battleaxes. So we were armed and everything!

A battle scene.


Lining up with shields.


My brothers in typical poses.
Oh, and on either side of a severed head on a stick, and a hung man.
I love this picture.


And one of the other days we went to the beach. H was being Jesus and walking on water. And yes, my sister and I are both standing.




And finally, a picture of my sister blow-drying her hair after dyeing it. Ooooh, I'm so dead if she finds I've posted this...