Simmer Dim
I've recently moved to Shetland after marrying my beautiful wife.
We'd unpacked the boxes, marvelled at the view (miles and miles of unspoilt rolling hills right outside our window), been bowled over by the friendliness of those around us, then sat down exhausted with a beer.

It was just gone midnight, and this was the view from the garden. Hairs stood up on the back of my neck when I saw this, in the middle of the night, in summer. The birds were still burbling away in the back ground, there was a cow watching us from the neighbouring field, and there was beer in my belly. This was as dark as it got that night.

The Simmer Dim, is the local name, and it was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen:


( sm.pl.crt.rs I don't fucking know, do I?, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 14:04, 6 replies)

After a wonderful meal with the Girlfriend
I take her back to my flat, blind folding her at the door i lead her to the front room where she takes off the blindfold to find the room lit up by candlelight all around her with me standing in front of her with a rose, after a tender kiss we simultanteously announce for the first time our love for one another.

the most perfect moment in my life so far.
(That Random Guy, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:56, 9 replies)

On a boat in the middle of Loch Ness I saw....
a big tourist boat go past us in the opposite direction. We noticed that it had left a considerable wake which was breaking against the rocky shore a couple of hundred yards away in front of us. The boat passed by and we watched the wake moving along the shore towards us. Level with our boat was a litte bay where a few small boats were anchored, one little sailing boat had smoke rising from a chimney. For what seeemd like ages we watched the wave approach. As the wake hit the first small boat it leaned over about 45 degress before bobbing upright again. We watched with breath held as it smacked into the smoking boat and giggled as it tumbled madly about. When a few seconds later a distant figure popped up through the hatch with a saucepan still in his hand it became one of the funniest things I have ever seen.
( Three Dog Man, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:51, 1 reply)

Being sung to
Years ago before I met her my gf was a professional opera singer. After we had we together about 6 months she one evening decided to sing to me (not opera thankfully).

I’m not an emotional person and I’m not just saying this because she’s my gf, but her voice is amazing and it was a struggle to hold back tears. Sniff.
(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:40, 3 replies)

The Dog
We have a little Corgi Cross, who I have mentioned before.

He is very quick learner so we have taught him all sorts of tricks, one of which is to "shut the door". This means I stand next to the door I want him to shut and he jumps up at it and give it a good shove, and so closes it.

One sunny Sunday a few months back I am standing in the kitchen eating a sandwich with the back door open and Al(for that is his name) looning about in the garden chasing phantom cats.

With imaginary cat caught, I watch from the other end of the kitchen as, without any provocation or instruction, he completes the following actions:

1: Walks in and turns around to face the door.
2: Jumps up and gives it a push.
3: Watches the door as it swings to a semi closed position.
4: Hits the door again to properly shut it.
5: Toddles off into the living room to eat a hypothetical rabbit (his rawhide chew)

I stood there with a massive smile on my face.

I now hear him do this from the living room almost every night, and it still amazes me.
(stubbledchin, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:26, 4 replies)

My Dad's diary
Ok, not a full diary, but from when he was stationed in the Falklands for just under 4 months.

I was at my Mum's and dug out some old photos from when he was alive and was having a bit of a giggle at them, when out fell a little excercise book. Flicked it open and it's a diary, all in my Dad's handwriting - I decide to read it in privacy later.

Upon reading it, it's my dad's thoughts about when he was posted to RAF Mount Pleasant over Christmas and over his birthday.

He starts off saying that it's going to be an experience for him and how he's sort of looking forward to it - he's missing us and he enjoys reading our letters.

It goes on over time with him getting sadder and sadder at being away from home - hating being away from us over Christmas and being uspet (I remember him being really strong) - over his birthday (with his return not far off) he's very unhappy and loving the phone calls and letters he gets but missing us all so much and hating the desolation and isolation that is, ultimatetly, the Falklands.

The beautiful moment? Finding it and reading it gave me a beautiful insight in to how he was feeling and what he felt about us and how he was feeling. Something I never got to really ask him as I didn't have that chance or that time due to his untimely death.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:19, Reply)

Full of Sang Thip and
A kinky Israeli chick frigged my prostate whilst I smoked a cigarette, leaning out of the first-floor window of my cheap Bangkok hotel, just watching the horny world go by.

God, I love Thailand.
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:19, Reply)

The axeman cometh
Just some quick background...

I've been having a really bad week. Broke up with my fiancee and later discovered she'd cheated on me. I tell you this only so you can imagine my current mindset. For those who can't; I'm so down I'm positively subterranean. It feels like someone's died.

With that in mind, some further background...

I live in a big old house that's been converted to 3 flats. I'm on the ground floor, the top two flats are currently empty. The landlord of the flat above mine had his previous tenant disappear owing him rent so is in the process of changing the locks. This includes the lock on the main, communal front door. He changed the lock on Monday and promised to get me a key cut. Since then I've had to leave the front door on the latch everytime I go out.

Yesterday, my phone died while I was in work. It's a messy business breaking up with someone, there's a lot of texting and terse phonecalls involved. So I'm essentially phoneless. I arrive home with some bags of shopping to find that the door is no longer on the latch. It is locked. I have no key. And no phone.

After standing there aghast for a minute I think "Fuck it. It's that pillock of a landlord's fault I'm locked out, he'll just have to replace the lock again" and start kicking the shit out of the door.

After about 5 minutes of this, Paul arrives. I don't know Paul, he lives across the road from me. He looks a bit 'special'. And is carrying an axe.

"Alright mate?", asks Paul, "need a hand with that?".

I'm so grateful he hasn't come to behead me I say yes. I'm further grateful that he decides not to go all "Heeeere's Johnny!" on my front door but instead wedges the axe blade between the door and the frame and starts twisting it. "While I twist, you push the door, hard", he says. So I do.

After about 5 minutes of this Martin pulls up in his van. I don't know Martin either. But he looks like a builder.

"Oi mate!", shouts Paul. Who also doesn't know Martin. "You haven't got a crowbar in the back of that thing have you?"

"Yeah.", answers Martin, looking slightly wary. "Why?"

"Bring it over here!"

So that is the story of how me and two complete randoms ended up in a heap on my hallway floor having crashed through my front door and broken into my own home.

I'm inside my flat after thanking the guys. I put the shopping down and I know I'm about to cry. I'm sweating, worn out physically and emotionally and I can just feel it coming.

Then there's a tap at the window.

I pull myself together, pull back the curtain and see Paul stood outside. I go out to meet him.

"Hiya fella. I just been and told the wife what happened and she had a right good giggle about it. Wants to know if you'd like to come over for dinner?"

I could barely talk I was welling up so much. How lovely is that?

Never underestimate the kindness of strangers.

*Edit* And I've just realised it's my b3taday too.
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:08, 12 replies)

Behind the mask...
An older cousin of mine had it all. Happily married to an attractive, fun, vivacious girl, they had two kids - a gorgeous blue-eyed angel of a daughter and a ruddy-cheeked, healthy baby boy.

My cousin was the picture of contentedness. He was an extroverted nutter - providing hours of entertainment for his kids and extended family. He was always the first to dance at functions, the first to crack a joke or break awkward silences and the one person you wanted with you on a night out - never a dull moment.

Then one day. Without warning. As sudden as cough or a sneeze, the light went out of him. He became deflated, withdrawn, miserable. His kids felt it, his wife felt it, we all felt it. He was a shadow of his former self.

It fell to me to try and locate the source of his instant depression. We were close in age and had many a holiday and rowdy evening in common. I chatted to him for ages. We telephoned. We emailed. We even went for a day's walk in the countryside together. But he would reveal nothing. No clues at all to why he had pretty much disappeared from our lives.

Then a few days later I got a text from him. It was short, simple and to the point. And what it said answered everything. There was no need for any more questions. No need for anymore explanations.

What he wrote was the most beautiful, evocative and paralysing sentence I've ever read.

'The problem with having a secret girlfriend,' he said, 'is that you're not supposed to cry they're hit by a car.'
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:05, 3 replies)

A couple of nights ago...
My three daughters aged 7, 4 and 3 share a bedroom. All too often I find myself berrating them for calling down the stairs after they've been put to bed. They all know full well that Dad gets a bit cross at constant call-outs when they should be going to sleep.

A couple of nights ago, after the umpteenth interruption to my post-putting-kids-to-bed routine (folding clothes, tidying away toys, preparing tea) my 4 year old shouts from the top of the stairs- "Daddyyyyyyyyyyyy". I storm out of the sitting room to the bottom of the stairs- "WHAT IS IT NOW?" I roar.

"I just love you Daddy" she says, slightly nervously.

Heart is duly melted.

"Oh... OK. I love you too. Can you get back into bed now please?"
(ZeroG, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 13:00, 5 replies)

Enchanted glade
Have a portion of roasted peas:
At university I fell in love with the most beautiful girl I have ever known. I wasn't the only person to fall in love with her, but by some miracle she chose me (actually I found out later that I was one of several people, but let's not let facts spoil the story).

I'll call her Q: she was stunningly beautiful and loved mucky sex. One day, after a particularly hot shag, she whispered huskily in my ear that she wanted me to come to her parents' place that weekend. So we took the train to her parents' house and after lunch Q suggested we went for a walk in the woods. When we were well out of sight of the house she took me by the hand and led me into the trees. “This may be the only chance we get this weekend” she said as we walked deeper into the woods. Then, “I want to show you a special place”.

Well I’d already seen her special place, but perhaps seeing it outside would be even better, I thought. Turns out it was a special place in the woods she wanted to show me. There was a glade, and it was perfect. The sunlight came slanting down through the trees, illuminating the mossy floor with shafts of green and golden light. The leaves seemed to be rustling sensually as we stood looking into the hidden grove. The only thing missing was a baby deer. Two trees had grown leaning together, their trunks forming a kind of arched entrance. Q looked up at me and proceeded to tell me about wood-spirits and ancient pagan customs, and the meanings of trees. As I lost myself in her deep brown eyes and soft voice she told me that when we walked through the arch our souls would be joined and the magic glade would be ours to consummate our woodland wedding.

She led me through the arch into the clearing and we stood in a beam of sunlight, holding hands and gazing at each other. I bent down to kiss her and as our lips met I swear the birds started to sing. Well we snogged and then there was some fumbling and rubbing and pretty soon we were lying down on the mossy grass. Q started undoing my belt and trousers. My hands were already in her pants, so I pulled them down and she manouvered her legs to get them off. She stroked me enthusiastically as I undid her blouse, exposing her beautifully formed breasts. She rolled me over onto my back, pulled a condom out of a pocket somewhere and expertly put it on me. “I love this girl”, I thought as she straddled me, her long dark hair falling around my face like a cage just for us two.

I think it was around then that I noticed the spider web in her hair, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Her head was down close to mine, her eyes closed as she moaned. I felt an itch under my bum, against the ground, but chose to ignore it. Q reached round to scratch an itch on her back. I kept pumping away as she squirmed delightfully on top of me, and then moved her hand to scratch one knee. I was aware of the itch on my bum getting worse, and I was starting to feel a scratching on the back of my neck. I used one hand to scratch it and felt something on my neck, something wriggly. Then there was a burning sensation starting at my neck and moving down my back, the itching on my bum turned into a biting, Q’s sexy squirming turned into an irritated shaking and her moaning from pleasurable to complaining. She suddenly leapt off me, her hands going under her clothes to scratch herself and I reached for the burning areas on my skin. I looked down to my glistening dumbstick, only to see what looked like a small army of ants marching up my thighs towards it, pausing only to sink their enormous jaws into my soft flesh. I stood up and started dancing around, slapping at my legs and back, where more ants were beating a path down my spine. Something was in my hair: a beetle! Q was standing head down frantically scratching at her head and I swear I saw spiders and centipedes falling out as she pawed at her hair.

We both ran and jumped, scratched and slapped, I more encumbered than she as my pants were round my ankles. Eventually I thought I’d got all the bugs off me but my skin was still crawling. I felt a slimy thing on my thigh only to look down and discover it was my condom-clad and now-deflated member drooping slimily against my leg. Q was crying as I pulled up my trousers, still shivering and twitching as I felt the creatures crawling over me. To cap it all off a bird flew over and crapped on me with a laughing cackle.

Q stormed off, sobbing and I followed her, pushing our way through what now seemed thorny, unfriendly undergrowth, pausing occasionally to claw frantically at more spiders which had latched on to us. We rushed back to her parents’ house to have (separate) showers.
(Smale is stuffed, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 12:25, 4 replies)

Following..
VM's posting below about the Vulcan, the synchro-pairing of the Spitfire and Typhoon at RIAT this year actually brought tears to my eyes.
Gorgeous.
(greatoldone Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl f'tagn, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 12:22, Reply)

When I lived in Greenwich
A fair few moons ago now, my husband-to-be and I staggered from a pub near the Cutty Sark and I noticed a young man walk past me with a cone of chips that smelled wonderful.

In an overly loud 'whisper' I said to hubby "Ooooooh, he's got chips!!".

The young man turned around and said with a cheeky grin "Yes, yes I have. Would you like one?".

Best. Chips. Ever.
(Chicken Little This signature has been left blank., Fri 6 Aug 2010, 12:14, 4 replies)

I've just had one just this morning, it came with the postman!
It's a long and complex background story too boring to write here, but I have a longtime good friend who thought there was a possibility I had fallen out with him (rumours and assumptions) and rather than give up on it sent me a one of those little plushy teddies with 'best friend' on it and his return address, the kind Hallmark and such sell.

Thus puzzled, this prompting me to contact him and ask him to what I owed the pleasure, I then got the full story that we have now sorted out between us. All rumour and divisive half-truths quashed and we remain good, if not stronger friends because of it.

Lovely gesture from a lovely man, lovely way to start my day, great and inventive way to break the ice in what could (he thought) have been a tricky area to approach, nice win over the haters.

I think there's something in my eye...
( ..wil, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 12:06, Reply)

Every day...
I walk in the door and my daughter will look up from her playpen, realise her Daddy is home and give me the most heartfelt grin. Melts me every time and I just hope I never, ever disappoint her.

Hard to explain the feeling to b3tans without kids, but I'd crawl over broken glass with broken arms and and my skin covered in napalm to make sure I see that little girl light up at the thought of playtime with her Dad.
(Chad, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 11:45, 11 replies)

Blade Runner
Watched it again recently and in the context of the film, this has to be the most beautiful and sad cinematic moment I have ever witnessed. Blubs me up every time. The bit about this I also like, is the fact that Rutger Hauer penned this, not a script writer...truly awesome.


"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die."
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 11:28, 10 replies)

YOU MUST DECIDE!
Following on from my post below concerning an academic take-down, I suppose I ought, for the sake of balance, to describe my own. From my point of view at the time, it was brutal and humiliating - but, seen from others' positions, and my own 10 years later, I have to admit that it was rather beautiful.

I was about six months in to my PhD, and was giving my first paper on my research so far. The format of the seminar was that I'd talk for about half an hour, and then there'd be an hour or two of questions and debate.

Now, I knew that my paper wasn't very good (and, looking back, it was - frankly - embarrassingly bad: garbled, under-argued, unclear in its aims and all the rest of it), so I was expecting a roasting. What I hadn't expected at the end of the paper was silence.

The silence was broken by one of the other PhD students. He finished rolling his cigarette - this was in the days when smoking was allowed in research seminars - and began to speak. His words are scorched on my memory.
"Enzyme," he began, "From what I understand of your paper - and, believe me, it's not much - but from what I understand of it, it's either trivial or false. Which of those is it?"
"...," I replied.

I wish I could have appreciated the aesthetics of the moment at the time.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 11:22, 11 replies)

With a little bit of luck...
First off, a little backstory.

My cousin is one of the strongest people I know. Brought up in a military family, she spent her younger childhood moving around the world every couple of years, and as happens with military children she was sent to boarding school with her elder sister, where they had horsehair mattresses and were bullied a lot by the other girls.

She met her first husband at uni, and they were together for four or five years before they got married. He was a wonderful guy, and we were all elated for her. A few months after the wedding, he contracted terminal cancer - he had Crohn's disease, and apparently there's an associated cancer that occurs in a very tiny percentage of Crohn's sufferers that is incredibly hard to treat.

He died about a year after they were married, and it devastated my cousin. She was widowed in her very early thirties.

After a few years, she started dating again, and found a lovely new guy. If I remember rightly, he proposed after about a year, and they had a really pretty ceremony, with her two little nieces running around with some of her friends' kids.

Not long after, they started trying to have kids, to no avail. It turns out that in an operation my cousin had when she was very young to remove an appendix about to burst, one of her ovaries was removed at the same time, and this left it very very difficult for her to conceive. They started on IVF, hoping it would help, but the drugs made her extremely ill, though we didn't know it at the time. It was later told to us that at any point during the treatment she could have become extremely ill and needed urgent admittal to hospital. It was unsuccessful, so she had a second round, but using embryos from the first round that had been frozen. Again, it didn't take.

Hence the third round. All the frozen embryos had been used, so she needed the drugs so they could harvest more eggs. She stayed in hospital during that, and became violently ill following implantation. She was in hospital for two or three weeks, unable to move or walk, on what pain meds they could give her taking into account the fact that she may be pregnant, though that barely scratched the surface. She's home now, and has been for a week, and is starting to be able to walk again.

Just before she left hospital, she had her first scan, and two embryos had taken.

Her next scan is today. If we're extremely lucky, there will be a heartbeat on the monitor. Maybe even two. And if there is, I think she will be the happiest she's ever been, and rightly so. That would be a truly beautiful moment.




UPDATE: Two heartbeats. Mum and I were in tears of joy reading the message. Champagne time. ^______^
(epinephrine, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 11:13, 7 replies)

*phew*
The sight of my handbag on a Saturday morning when I can't even remember how I got home, shortly followed by the sight of a fishfinger and ketchup muffin and a mug of tea.
(finbarr, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 11:09, 8 replies)

Hold your breath for two minutes
No, not to get high. It feels like quite some time though.

I've since found out from midwives that, comparatively speaking, my daughter's entry into the world two months ago was not particularly traumatic or unusual. But that's a pro speaking. For me, a fresh-faced amateur, it was like being teased by a psychotic god.

M'lady went in for an emergency c-section at 5am, and I was sat by her head the whole time, steadfastly refusing to glance at the business end. We'd been told that babies often don't cry when they pop out, and almost all of them get whisked to the recus table. Our baby was straight on that bugger, silent and white as a sheet, with air being blown into her lungs and the midwife administering one-fingered chest compressions. Elation to anticipation to anxiety to dread to awful, awful defeat in the space of just 120 seconds.
My girlfriend was moaning "oh no, oh no" very quietly, and shaking like a leaf. All I could do was try and block her view of what I now reluctantly presumed was our stillborn daughter. I've seen Baywatch, I know the score – any more than three puffs of breath needed and its over. Hell of a tragic disappointment after nine months, two weeks and fifteen hours of idiotic grinning and expectation. Weirdly, all I could think of was what I was going to tell my mum, other than what her name would have been. Miranda.

Then we heard a little cry.

My chest flutters a little bit just thinking about that noise. I'm sure there'll be a bunch of these kind of stories this week, and I'll probably well up reading every single one.

(ps our midwife later told us she's seen little'uns being revived for up to 45 minutes. I don't think my heart could take that.)
(pps I've also seen The Abyss, with its massively drawn-out CPR scene. Must remember that for next time)
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 11:09, 3 replies)

Fewston
A few miles out of Harrogate, near Blubberhouses (yes, it's a real place) is Fewston Reservoir, a nice 5 mile walk that is perfect for a Sunday afternoon or late summer evening. The first time I walked it, in 2005, I had met my now ex-girlfriend. She was at work and I'd taken the day off to go walking. We texted all the way round. Having met on a dating site and had not actually met in person yet. I loved the flirting, the finding out about each other, the rush of expectation when my phone beeped a message from her. It was a wonderful feeling to know that someone was thinking about me.

Last year we broke up and I was gutted, and visited a dark place I had never been to before. I don't know why but I did that walk again. To get rid of some demons maybe, I don't know. I sat on a bench where we'd had a really nice text conversation all those years ago and my heart reached out for her. I knew that I wasn't going to get over her and that I would do anything for past times to be relived.

Fast forward to a couple of months ago. I did that walk again with a friend of mine who was going through some marriage problems / mid-life crisis. We sat on the same bench, looking out over the same landscape and wondering where on earth the time had gone. We had grown up together and reminisced about when we were younger, about our hopes and dreams that had not worked out the way we had hoped. I still missed my ex a little but had moved on with my life and was trying to encourage my walking buddy that he too would soon experience his own life change. He just had to be patient.

During a moment of quiet reflection I checked my email. An email was waiting from someone that I had met on the interwebs recently (yes, the same dating site) but never expected to get a reply from. She provided her private email address and asked me to get in touch. I experienced a beautiful moment then: my whole attitude changed. I realised that a potential future was waiting for me and I knew that I wasn't afraid of it.

We had our first and second date a couple of weeks ago. Last weekend she came over to my place and met some friends of mine. Although I was a total gentleman and slept on the sofa, we lay together top-to-toe in bed the next morning drinking coffee and talking. We have the coming weekend planned together and I can't wait to embark on a possible new relationship.

When I was driving home from work the other night I felt unbelievably happy. Just at that moment I passed a dad and his toddling daughter, her face covered in a big happy smile. The smile of a kid that doesn't know bad stuff and everything is new and shiny.

I'm a complete atheist but something - my gut feeling perhaps, i don't know - told me that everything was going to be fine. It's a cliche I know but I remembered the scene from American Beauty, where they're watching the video of the bag blowing in the wind together and I understood every single word of the speech the guy makes. I felt I was close to passing out when I realised that there is incredible beauty in the world. I am over the bad times of last year when me and my ex split up. I have met someone that completely captivates me. My old life has gone and, for once in my life, I don't really miss it. Life is good.
(Ghostlight, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:59, 1 reply)

I agree with you...
I don't know what it's like in other disciplines - I assume that much the same applies - but academic philosophy can be remarkably catty, and seminars can easily descend into intellectual pissing contests. Once you know what's what, the rough-and-tumble becomes fun (or maybe it's that only some survive in the discipline long enough to know what's what); and it can provide some spectacular moments of take-down.

When I was a research student, I'd attend the twice-weekly research seminars. On Thursdays, we'd hear and discuss a paper by a PhD student, but on Mondays, it was the turn of staff or visiting speakers.

One Monday, the speaker was a Big Name in his particular field, which was mind and language philosophy. It's not an area in which I've ever been comfortable, so my mind was wandering a little. The paper ended, and the invitation went out for questions or comments. There was a slight pause, and then D put his hand up. D had just about finished his PhD at the time.

He began by giving a precis of the paper to check his understanding. Big Name said that the precis was accurate.
"Right," said D. "Well, I suppose that, in that case, someone could say that..." and then he proceded, without notes, and in a matter of a couple of minutes, to demolish Big Name's position. Not only did he reduce it to rubble, but he broke that rubble beyond repair for good measure.

Big Name visibly crumpled. "Er... yes. That seems like a plausible counterargument," he stammered. "I have a horrible feeling that I might have to abandon my claim."
"Oh, no!" interjected D. " Don't do that. I agree with you. You'd have to be crazy to believe what I just suggested - I was just saying that someone could say that."

Since that day, I've considered it my ambition to demolish an argument with to I'm sympathetic by using one I think hopeless just because I can. Truly, it was a thing of beauty to witness.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:57, 5 replies)

A few from me
Coming home on a monday in mid June, last term, 6 lessons straight through, teaching a double period of "Alternative Learning Programme" kids last 2, 2 hours of meetings about school and having E & C (my 3 yr and 18mnth old sons) run up to me with water pistols, soaked though, and proceed to soak me through.. epic

Ayres rock at dawn, as well as the Sounds of Silence dinner they do there in teh evening. Complete silence is a beautiful thing.

My wife, walking down the aisle on my wedding day. She looked amazing in an ivory dress, stunning; I'm usually a very confident person but I forgot the 3 words I had to say and just said "uh-huh". We got married in a big conservatory at a hotel, the sun was beaming through the windows.. shit, I'm filling up now!

Steven Gerrards volley to put England 2-1 up against Germany in Munich, 2001. I was at the game, free tickets. Best game I've ever been to and the German's afterwards were brilliant hosts.

Sigur Ros's last album. listened to it on the way to work and stopped and rang in sick so I could finish it all.

REM - milton keynes bowl, 1995 I think. 40,000 people singing everybodys hurts, lighters etc. I was right at the back on a warm night it took my breath away.
(Strump striving for imperfection since, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:54, 4 replies)

Sun, Sex and Llamas
Summer, 1997. A beautiful free party in the Sussex countryside (at the Llama Farm, for anyone else who was there).

Earlier that night, I'd amazed my friends (and myself) by actually meeting a gorgeous girl who seemed to think I was pretty hot too (must have been the drugs). At the end of the club I was hoping to take her on somewhere, and thankfully there was a party to go to. Couldn't get a lift, so I shot home and returned with my motorcycle - a shiny black-and-chrome cruiser (fake Harley), and took the new amour for a gentle pootle through the night.

The party turned out to be a stonker - great music, great "refreshments" and great people. I was pretty happy all round, but things got even better when she led me into the woods for some al-fresco fun. Still in range of the beat, of course, and with the golden light of dawn breaking through the trees and dappling her naked skin.

Aferwards, we stumbled back into the main party area to enjoy the morning sun with the other mellow folk. Just as I was thinking that life couldn't get much better, I noticed a beautiful 360 degree rainbow, right around the sun...

Magic.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:48, Reply)

Dunrun
a couple of weeks ago i did the Dunwich Dynamo for the first time:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunwich_Dynamo

having never gone even half the 120 mile distance before, let alone at night, i was a bit daunted. there were many many beautiful moments though.

10:00 - out of London and into the country lanes without a car in sight and all i could see was the blinking red led lights of other cyclists stretching off into the distance.
11:30 - finding a pub open in the arse end of nowhere.
4:30 - it finally getting lightwer and cycling against a backdrop of a beautiful sunrise.
6:00 - a sign outside someone's house advertising bacon sarnies and tea for people doing the ride
7:30 - seeing a sign saying 'Dunwich 7'
8:00 - collapsing on the beach
10:00 - this chap turning up:

www.flickr.com/photos/marcusjb/4826725831/

i'd seen him first in hackney and didn't think the dog would actually be coming with him, but he was at the pub at 11:30, asleep on a bench with the dog curled up on his lap at 2:00 and then finally in Dunwich at 10:00. I was already having a swim in the glorious north sea when both of them came bounding into the water. beautiful moment. What an ace pet.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:35, Reply)

Through the post today
came my DVD of Doctor Who: The Creature from the Pit that I ordered off of Amazon.

Beautiful.

Dribble.

Deeeeeeeep joy.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:35, 1 reply)

Classy Continentals
Me and a mate took a “gentleman’s excuse me” trip to Lille to drink beer and watch football for a couple of days.

We arrived a bit late and, with the Brit’s fear of the 11pm bell hard coded into our DNA, we rushed out of the Hotel to find some booze, and if we were lucky, something to eat.

Of course we found all the bars open and serving fantastic cheap high quality food. Settling on a pavement table we drank and ate. I gave a little monologue on how civilised the place was. It was 11:30pm and we could still order food, the architecture that surrounded us, the gentle chatter of people enjoying themselves without a drunken chav in site.

Just as I finished speaking a shambolic looking old lady shuffled paste the Café. Stopping no more than 6 feet away from our table she squatted down and curled out a huge turd on the cobbles.

Beautiful.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:32, 1 reply)

Filling my boat
Knowing that the Club on the turn has completed his flush ... as it made my full house.

Oh, and making a loose call with 3's and seeing another two on the flop.
( Cheeses of Nazareth Where's Captain Kirk? www.whereiskirk.com, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:30, 7 replies)

The first time we played an outdoor gig at a festival.
We'd already done half the rider and then some, as the guy before us simply wouldn't leave.

We went on at about 2130. We started the set and I remember noting the beautiful feeling of the cool evening breeze and the warm, fresh air, as I belted out the rhythms.

The set got underway - it was only a small festival - and there were about 15 people in front of us, having a wee jig.

Then the lights turned from the stage outwards, to illuminate scores of people, all dancing to our songs.

Nothing like having a taste of being a rock star.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 6 Aug 2010, 10:29, 2 replies)