St Cuthbert's Way
Track of the day - Sex In The Morning - Prince Edward Island.
It's been so long since I tried to write anything here that I've forgotten what little bit of HTML code I used to know.
I've been training to become a recluse and last week, wearing my best recluse gear, I set off to Northumberland to follow in the wheel tracks of Saint Cuthbert of Lindisfarne who, in 676, left the Monastery on Holy Island, drove over the causeway to adopt the solitary life and retired to a cave.
It seems to me that Cuthbert would have found it much easier to become a recluse right here in Bogsville. Either Cuthbert did a lot of hiking around to find the right cave to hide away in or his sat-nav was on the blink because every little path in Northumberland appears to be called Cuthbert's Way.
Mind you Cuthbert wasn't a Saint when he was hiking around with a duff sat-nav looking for a cave, elevation to that high office came eleven years after his death when some local smart arse decided to open up his coffin and found that Cuthbert was still perfectly preserved.
If the temperatures in Cuthbert's day were like they were last week I'm not surprised that he was still well preserved.
Suffice it to say that I have decided against living in a wind swept Northumbrian cave especially if local smart arses are going to be opening up my box every eleven years to see if I'm perfectly preserved
According to Wikipedia "Cuthbert's asceticism was complemented by his charm and generosity to the poor and his reputation for gifts of healing and insight led many people to consult him, gaining him the name of 'Wonder Worker of Britain'".
Sounds a bit like me, even if I do say it myself.
I have to visit the local hospital a couple of times a year to prove that I'm not developing glaucoma. This usually means I'm hanging around for hours so while I'm there I like to spread the good deeds, Cuthbert style.
Hospital regulations require patients being discharged to leave the building in a wheel chair, unless of course they've succumbed, in which case they don't need a wheel chair, just a box.
Last time I was whiling away the hours there I found an elderly gent dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, a suitcase at his feet. I decided to help him on his way.
He got a bit lippy and insisted he didn't need my help to leave the hospital but after a chat about rules being rules, he let me wheel him into the lift.
On the way down I asked if his wife would be meeting him outside.
"I doubt it", he said. "She's still up there changing out of her hospital gown."
It's been so long since I tried to write anything here that I've forgotten what little bit of HTML code I used to know.
I've been training to become a recluse and last week, wearing my best recluse gear, I set off to Northumberland to follow in the wheel tracks of Saint Cuthbert of Lindisfarne who, in 676, left the Monastery on Holy Island, drove over the causeway to adopt the solitary life and retired to a cave.
It seems to me that Cuthbert would have found it much easier to become a recluse right here in Bogsville. Either Cuthbert did a lot of hiking around to find the right cave to hide away in or his sat-nav was on the blink because every little path in Northumberland appears to be called Cuthbert's Way.
Mind you Cuthbert wasn't a Saint when he was hiking around with a duff sat-nav looking for a cave, elevation to that high office came eleven years after his death when some local smart arse decided to open up his coffin and found that Cuthbert was still perfectly preserved.
If the temperatures in Cuthbert's day were like they were last week I'm not surprised that he was still well preserved.
Suffice it to say that I have decided against living in a wind swept Northumbrian cave especially if local smart arses are going to be opening up my box every eleven years to see if I'm perfectly preserved
According to Wikipedia "Cuthbert's asceticism was complemented by his charm and generosity to the poor and his reputation for gifts of healing and insight led many people to consult him, gaining him the name of 'Wonder Worker of Britain'".
Sounds a bit like me, even if I do say it myself.
I have to visit the local hospital a couple of times a year to prove that I'm not developing glaucoma. This usually means I'm hanging around for hours so while I'm there I like to spread the good deeds, Cuthbert style.
Hospital regulations require patients being discharged to leave the building in a wheel chair, unless of course they've succumbed, in which case they don't need a wheel chair, just a box.
Last time I was whiling away the hours there I found an elderly gent dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, a suitcase at his feet. I decided to help him on his way.
He got a bit lippy and insisted he didn't need my help to leave the hospital but after a chat about rules being rules, he let me wheel him into the lift.
On the way down I asked if his wife would be meeting him outside.
"I doubt it", he said. "She's still up there changing out of her hospital gown."
Posted by Milt at 10:54:00 pm
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