{Stevie] penelope thinks you should unwind the DNA a bit - you can have them as shallow and broad as you like. That's why she was so disappointed that the odd couple selling the house they looked at had decided that no-one with feet larger than size three - and certainly no-one ever carrying a basket of laundry - was ever going to attempt to go upstairs.
As a committed fan of staircases (I was looking at stairporn.org yet again on my lunch break yesterday) and a pedant, I would be much happier if they were called "helical staircases", unless the radius does actually increase or decrease as one climbs.
Apparently it is limerick day . . . well, unless in it no longer May 12 where you live . . . But it is here, so, hmmm . . . I shall create a limerick A woman who knew she was blue Said, " 'ello, how do you do?" The children all ran As fast as a van Making her cry, "Oh, boo hoo." I know, it's not great. But, it was quick and fun.
These stupid made-up holidays I wish were a long-dead past phase. Every day a new thing! What will next Tuesday bring That will fail to amuse or amaze?
I announce The back door is back on and properly sealed to the house with glue that stinks of vinegar but the wooden frame still needs painting and I need some new aluminium screws before I can rehang the storm-door day.
I think it's used as an inhibitor to the setting process more than a solvent, but I agree with you on the niff. The small screw-cap versions are easier to use, less niffy and they stay useable after opening longer than the big tubes used in caulking guns even though they work out three to four times as expensive.
Must've been exciting to be developing caulk. And those break'n'shake glowsticks - they use acetic acid as a moderator to prevent catastrophic exothermic excursion.
Real science should occasionally explode violently, as I explained to my chemistry teacher.
(Stevie) Yeah, but not too often and not too big. A work colleague was severely burnt (20%, months off work) after an ether vapour explosion set off by an open tin of lithium aluminium hydride falling into a bucket of water. I'm glad I was in the office.
I don't think it is what she meant, but a friend wrote, " Actually, if you look on the agent orange information sheet it does list illnesses is children."
Weather should be nice this weekend - and friends from England might drop by at the mill. And tonight we're going to the DIY store to buy a new nozzle thingy for the kitchen mixer tap, and possible some screenwash for the car too. Can't wait!
Looking forward to having short grass again tomorrow, although it's going to be an long slog getting there, with 14 days' growth to deal with. I might even give he barbecue a spring clean too. Who knows, I may even take the tree cuttings to the tip at last.
[Phil] A trip to the tip? *jealous* It just doesn't happen here the same way - it's so organised and everything gets taken away. When I was a kid, the tip was a landfill site (actually, that sounds - and is - dreadful) in an old chalk quarry a mile or so out of the town. There was salvage and reclaimed stuff to buy from the backs of various containers - my father often came home with bits of fishing rods from which he would create new fishing rods. We were never allowed to buy anything.
[penelope] Your last two sentences, on first reading, had me envisioning a family life predicated on wombling. I realized that you meant that you weren't allowed to buy anything from the tip only after that movie had run to conclusion.
Perhaps more damning, I saw the young penelope as a sort of infant version of Edna the Inebriate Woman wombling across a huge pile of rubbish in a mac with a string belt.
[Stevie] that wasn't me, although when I was a kid there was a scary and batty old woman who lived in a caravan at the tip. She had been a well-educated governess who had worked for some grand European families. Didn't stop her from spitting at cars in town though.
So ... if no-one has anything better to do this midsummer's weekend, then come to the village of Zonnemaire in Zeeland where my husband (the windy miller) will be running the mill from 10.00 tomorrow morning Saturday, until 16.00 on Sunday afternoon. ('Free running only - the stones are not yet properly fettled for grinding flour) I will endeavour to have coffee on the go at all times, and it may well be possible to partake of a pancake at 03.00 if you so desire. Other than that, I'll be either sitting in the shade with a laptop writing up a wonderful conference over the past 2 days (Look for the Erasmus Energy Forum), or out on a bike ride, or painting my toenails, or asleep in the car.
arr, you've got to give the stones a good fettling afore ye can set them to proper milling
I was going to post a URL to an absolutely rivetting account of improving and modernising the fettling of iron castings in Indian foundries, but it seems that mc5 isn't supporting links.