A dartboard, yes Pat I think you're right! There does seem to be particular cluster around where the double one would be for 501 or 301ers trying to finish. I used to play darts quite a bit before Bob was born (I had lightweight narrow arrows with butterflies on the flights - bless!) but then I stopped going to pubs so much and lost the knack. No need for much sanding at all on the wall though...my knack for filling gets loads of practice and is getting better and better which is excellent news as I'm rubbish at sanding and getting worse and worse as my arms get weaker. I can't do pressing AND rubbing for long...good job there's not much call for it any more, ha ha!
The previous paragraph coincidentally leads very well to this link http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-15265317 to an article by Kate Fox I found just after writing it. Kate Fox is just the kind of social anthropologist I hoped that I might be when I set out to the University of Sussex, writing eloquently and entertainingly about one of the most mysterious yet largely un reaserached cultures - our own. I'd nothing against the 'traditional' mud hut kind of anthropology you understand but having spent forty years or so wondering why I wasn't supposed to ask 'why?' about what everyone said was ' just because' I was very keen to find out!
The British relationship to alcohol and pubs has always fascinated me. My vaguely artistic teenage self used to look at the line of backs at the bar and wish I could paint the scene with the glow of light over the bar staff and regimented lines of bottles...seriously, if you showed the scene to someone who'd never seen anything like it don't you think it might look like some kind of religious practice? I also wanted to paint a spaceship landing, and people hiding behind a rock watching in terror as people exactly like themselves emerged... Hmmm, well clearly you don't need a degree in anything obscure to see why I've never had a lot of friends. I'm weird by most people's standards I know...but at least the feeling's mutual!
Anyway I've grateful for completing another short shift at the hole face - this time in one of those narrow strips between door lintel and wall where generations of bodging and dodging had left it unsuitable for further development. I'm grateful for a veggie builders fry up afterwards and the prospect of a siesta with a cup of Earl Grey and a book for while. I also give humungous thanks for being different...it might have blighted my life in many ways from early childhood on but it's also a blessing and a delight to at least realise there are so many boxes if not always to manage to think outside. And for occasionally once in a while remembering that there others too scattered here and there lifting the lids and poking their heads over the rims. If not folks we'd still be in mud huts and no need for Polyfilla at all, ha ha!
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