Computer’s kaput.

Computer is in the shop.

Computer is lucky I’m not kicking it repeatedly in the USB port.

Now be good until I get back, you hear?

In the meantime, muse on the slogan I saw emblazoned across a passing White Van.

“Who’s Van is This!!!”

Bizarrely, it was actually the lack of a question mark that first gave me chills. The mangling of “Whose” took a little longer to filter through. The un-marked question begs the answer:-

I do’nt no and I do’nt caer?”

PS – my car is also kaput. Something playing silly buggers in the Electronic Engine Management System. Today is not a day for things electrical.

PPS – ever notice how when your computer breaks down, you suddenly have to fight the intense urge to buy a new one? Husband keeps mentioning our zero balance on the credit card, and how much I’ve always wanted a laptop and docking system at home. No. NO! *hits Husband on the nose with rolled up newspaper* Dang, I just remembered it’s tax deductible.

PPPS – Mac users are not allowed to say, smugly, “my computer never breaks down.” I know where you live, you know.

PPPPS – It was Husband’s birthday yesterday, and it’s mine in April, so we’re treating ourselves this weekend and popping off to York and the Royal Armouries in Leeds. So even if the computer’s a quick fixer, I won’t be back online for a good while.

It’s odd, isn’t it? Green is the colour of Go. Red means stop, danger.

So why are there so many words that mean red, and so few usable ones that mean green?

Think about it. Say you’re describing a pool of blood – it could be crimson, vermillion, scarlet, claret, burgundy…

Now say you’re describing new grass. It’s… green. Light green. It’s not pistachio or jade, lime or couleur de corpse. It’s possibly emerald. But it’s certainly not olive.

Meanwhile, our pool of (now congealing) blood is ruby, wine and ruddy, carmine and cardinal. It may even be flushed cherry.

Our grass is still… Green. It’s distinctly un-chartreuse-like, and I’d struggle to call it malachite. It’s not beryl. Beryl is an old woman in a nylon pinny and a knitted hat.

Is it pea? It peeing well isn’t.

Bah. I live in England’s Green and Pleasant Land, and when spring springs, there just aren’t the words to describe the new grass, the bursting hawthorn, the budding alders and willows, the sharp spires of daffodil leaves and the soft moss.

There’s just not enough Green to describe the Green.

IT’S SNOWING! IT’S SNOWING!!!

please let it lie… please let it lie… please let it lie….

I have a new Trick! I’ve long struggled with resting when I need to, when there’s so much I want to do… It’s especially hard when I have a day off and want a lie-in. Now, we’re not talking about student level lie-ins, I hasten to add. Even dozing till 8am would be good. But inevitably I’m half awake at 7am and immediately thinking that I ought to be doing something.

So what’s my new trick?

Watch closely now… I get up when I wake up. I do some chores or some writing. But THEN… I go back to bed.

Oh, bliss! I take a book and maybe a slice of toast. I acquire a cat or two. And I feel that I have permission to lounge. I am wallowing in the luxury of rest-time earned. Fabulous.

Then, when I get up again around lunchtime, it actually feels like I’ve somehow already spent a day, when actually there are hours left to fill with fruitful and fun things.

I recommend it.

Loreth was talking about spring being on the way in her neck of the woods. It’s not quite with us here.

A couple of weeks ago, I was down in Shropshire, visiting Mum and Dad. They have spring – the blackthorn blossom is out, misting the hedges in white froth. The hawthorn is about to burst into vibrant green leaf. The daffodils are out, and the crocuses are gleaming like amethyst teardrops in shady spots.

Nearly two hundred miles farther north, though, it’s really still winter, and I’m impatient for the change of seasons. The hints are there – the fields are about to change their tone, from a brownish, washed out green to the bright emerald of newly growing grass, and there are a few daffodils bursting forth.

But I want the hawthorn to break bud, and the other bulbs to bloom.

Come on spring. I’ve missed you.

Well lookee there. I have a post up at Romancing the Blog today.