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What spires, what farms are those?
From the Department of What the Hell, Brain, We're Making Fruitcake: Horace's labuntur anni (Odes 2.14) should be translated as "the years give us the slip." I have no idea where this precipitated from. I'm up to my wrists in flour and dried cherries. I was reading J.L. Carr's A Month in the Country (1980) before bed last night, but that only made me think of Housman.
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I'm amused by the precipitating fragment of Horace translation. I don't reckon it's any worse than some of the things (fragments of smut, random associations of characters) that fall into my head whilst I'm trying to do something vaguely practical.
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We mostly mail them to relatives, but I trust (hope) they will be enjoyed by their intended owners. And if not, they make interesting accessories.
I don't reckon it's any worse than some of the things (fragments of smut, random associations of characters) that fall into my head whilst I'm trying to do something vaguely practical.
Traditionally I get ideas in the shower. It's not very useful when it comes to taking notes.
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I should certainly think they will be enjoyed.
I had relations who sent commercially-baked fruitcakes in decorative tins at Christmas when I was a child, which fruitcakes tasted as if they might have been being passed about since the Blessed Mother was a little girl, but the few times we were given genuine homemade fruitcake it was a fine treat, and much appreciated.
Traditionally I get ideas in the shower. It's not very useful when it comes to taking notes.
Ah, yes, that would be so.
I don't think I've ever seen a waterproof digital voice recorder--perhaps one of those slates that scuba divers sometimes use would be helpful? (Of course, the problem with them is that they've only got room for about a sentence and a half, as best I recall from watching National Geographic documentaries. Oh well.)