Alone again-naturally.
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3rd March.
As in every year, the 3rd of March recalls particular events to mr. le Marquis. Normally he has always given invitations to close friends to share a meal on this day, but this tradition has died the death of all traditions- indifference. This is the first year that mr. le Marquis has access to the Internet, and he therefore uses it to recall the events of this date, 12 years ago. After this posting, and the surrounding necessities, mr. le Marquis will suspend activities until the 4th March. My wife was born in Keighley, Yorkshire on the 7th March 1947. She passed a relatively normal life of the period, until after her school studies, when she had the choice of University or vocation. She chose vocation, and was asked by her training hospital, Guy's Hospital, London, to prove her independancy capabilities, by spending a period of 6 months abroad, away from her family, friends and other supporting elements. This was normal practice at the time, Guy's Hospital wishing to recruite
YOUR OWN FAULT!!
If you find that the last few postings have been 'frivolous' or ' without sense or value' - RELAX! So do I - but who said that PC's /MACS/ANOTHER's had to have value, and couldn't just be CLEAN fun? and........... I've had a bundle of fun!! Take this one as a last offering this Saturday/Sunday 26/27th February. (picture follows). Unfortunately I will have to be back on the occasion of the 3rd March.
Holland - Dutch - Double/Dutch: YOUR TURN!
It occurred to me (in one of my clearer moments) that I had neglected certain of my (other) readers/fans/fidele watchers of this space/etc., NAMELY my Dutch! I do not attach a description such as "my Dutch fans/ or readers/ or whatever" because I know that these people are completely and utterly, charmingly and wonderfully the REAL fans of mr. le Marquis, mr le Marquis du Galipot and I know that they devour my little articles like they devour 'matjesfilets' or the more common 'Bismarksheringsfilets" or the wonderful 'bratheringefilets' . I love the almost national dish in Holland - to be eaten with the fingers (like Chippies fish and chips)- "eenhalbekipp" which I think means half a roasted chicken. If I have neglected these magnificent people, then simply because I wanted to keep them for me! Particularly mrs WB (Mrs wackybacky), but I had recognized the fact that my mate (-- need I say more?) had a certain interest as well, alwa
Virgins and British bull dogs.
Mr Branston (I think that is his name) NOT of pickles fame, but of Virgin fame, apparantly has gotten up the nose of one of my (other) friends, who I have mentioned from time to time - "Britbull" or NOT SURE!! You see, Britbull's family decided for him, that the time had come to change equipment- due to all the problems existing with modems, and god knows what. Actually, I think that Trojanhorse (his daughter - remember?) was fed up with having to explain the hours she spent on the web with B-Telecom pay as you go. Being the hard nut that he is, Britbull simply cowered in the corner, and let himself be supplied with a new set of equipment, worthy of being used by a 'dormant' Managing Director! I don't know if he insisted on remaining a Virgin, but after many trials of this and that, and that and this, the latest address I have is still Virginal I'm STILL a virgin! . Now all this doesn't concern me one little bit, but it is Saturday evenin
Snowing - raining?
Well, bad weather - got to stay in with her indoors? Not even bathnight? Get up close to the fire, and use the two links I've sent you to brighten up your day! Try the quiz on pundits (that's the game with the Alfred E Newman type face - click on his nose, and try the quiz) Mr. le marquis got 'em ALL right - first time - of course! Let me know your results.
Chez mr.le Marquis du Galipot.
Chez mr.le Marquis du Galipot. London photos Web site with many thanks from Mr le Marquis.
Hungerford Bridge (Part II).
As I recall, I and my mentor, Bill, had partaken of the care and attentions given by George, the waiter, in Gordon's (Green Door) Wine Bar, lieu of Rudyard Kipling and others, and we had planned to cross the Bridge, with our nicely camouflaged bottle of Rich Bual Madeira, variety 'Good Company' dangling from our hands, when it occurred to us that such open invitations to muggers and other stealthy personnages, should be avoided. It was winter, and the darkness was intense, the bridge being lit only by weak lanterns, Jack-the-ripper-London style, every 100 yards or so, but our devotion to the reader of today (some 40-45 years later) was such, that we risked it. In fact, being two helped a great deal, and the real problem wasn't the Bridge itself, but the passage up the narrow turning stone stairs from Charing Cross U-ground Station, to the actual start of the Bridge. This was unlit, and I recall thinking (the first time I used them) that I would NEVER have even found the