~othello666555

Dodging and burning are steps to take care of mistakes God made in establishing tonal relationships.
~Ansel Adams

Thought that was good and I got bored of the last journal.

I am one of the lucky people who gets to help organise the year book for a local school. I have had to match the pictures with the right information and would just like to post some of my favourite last comments from different people.

-No excellent soul is ever exempt from a mixture of madness & pain.

-Consisitency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.

-I was wondering why frisbees got bigger as they got closer, then it hit me...

-Everything is okay in the end.If it's not okay, then it's not the end.

-Sticks and stones may break my bones.......but names will hurt forever.

-The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

-Alcohol both lowers womens inhibitians and mens standards, bringing people together.

-Frustration is just an 11 lettered word for F#C*!

-When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you've got plenty to watch.

-Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today.

-Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted.

-It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education.

Thats all nothing important.

Its bonfire night so i thought that i should write down a poem i heard about. It is strange how little people know about Guy Fawkes beyond "He tried to blow up parliment .....nd ehhhmmm he....." If you want to see peoples head explode ask them why he wanted to blow up parliamnet? (If they say to kill people slap them.)

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I see no reason why the gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'twas his intent
to blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!

Then comes the unfortunate verse which reflects the anti catholic sentiment of the time:

A penny loaf to feed the Pope.
A farthing o' cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we'll say ol' Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah!

Sorry for sounding very proudly Scottish in my last entry, its going to happen again in this, and for that i apologise. At the weekend I heard many people singing Auld Langs Syne (i have no idea why, its no where near New years) these people were spread out across Glasgow as i was walking around so it wasnt just the one group but they all managed to sign the same wrong line, which everyone seems to get wrong it is "for auld langs syne my dear......" not "for the sake of auld langs syne". So in honour of this and as a form of therapy ive decided to include the proper lyrics with an "English translation".

Burns’ version:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup !
And surely I’ll be mine !
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes,
and pou’d the gowans fine ;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin’ auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin’ auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand my trusty fiere !
And gies a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS



"ENGLISH TRANSLATION":

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely you’ll get your pint mug !
And surely I’ll get mine !
And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have run about the hills,
and pulled the daisies fine ;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-friendly draught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

That all bye bye.

Hello this is more of a venting after being told that i could not have a job at a call center (exciting I know but it was only for a year)because my accent was too strong and i would be mainly dealing with English customers. Now i do not believe that my accent is very strong and have never had any trouble being understood while passing through England and have even managed to grin at the stereotypical "och aye the noo" Scot as they are sometimes portrayed on tv. I went to this interview and the woman who was interviewing me was English and i do not have a problem with this unlike many of my fellow patriots lol, the interview went well and i told her about my preivous experiences in working with members of the public and everything was going well until the end when she told me that i wouldnt get the job because my accent was too strong.....and well i might have over reacted by shouting at her that what did she expect when looking for people around the Glasgow are and if it was such a big problem why let me go through all my spiel about how great i am and why i should get the job.

Any way after telling my friends about this one of them told me about a poem they had and i would like too put it up here i dont know who wrote it but it describes a child going too school and the problems of speakin wrang:

It wis January
and a gey dreich day
the first day ah went to the school
so my mum happed me up in ma
good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood
birled a scarf aroon me neck
pu'ed oan ma pixie an' ma pawkies
it wis that bitter
nd said noo ye'll no starve
gie'd mea wee kid on skelp oan the bum
and sent me aff across the playgound
tae the place a'd leanr to forget to say
it was January
and a really dismal day
the first day i went to school
so my mother wrapped me up in my
best navy blue top coat with the red tartan hood,
twirled a scarf around my neck,
pulled on my bobble-hat and mittens
it was so bitterly cold
said now you won't freeze to death
gave me a little kiss and a pretend slap on the bottom
and sent me off across the playground
to the place i'd learn to forget to say
it wis January
and a gey driech day
the first day Ah went to the school
so my Mum happed me up in ma
good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood,
birled a scarf aroon ma neck,
pu'ed oan ma pixie and' ma pawkies
it wis that bitter.

Oh saying it was one thing
But when it came to writing it
In black and white
The way it had to be said
Was as if you were posh, grown-up, male, English and dead.

sorry fur a' the wrongness in that