Thursday 23 February 2012

A Public Information Notice

For reasons I won't elaborate on in case any of you are having your tea, I won't be out and about for a few weeks.

All together now........

Oh dear, what a shame, never mind.

This, of course is an ideal opportunity for you to book a short winter break, have your computer serviced, or nail yourself into your bedroom with some tins of soup.
The choice is yours.


3 comments:

  1. Best to be locked in with packet soup. The tinned stuff makes nasty dents in the wall when the computer crashes.

    ReplyDelete
  2. “To be, or not to be: that is the question:
    Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
    And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
    No more; and by a sleep to say we end
    The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
    To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause: there's the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life;
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
    The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
    The insolence of office and the spurns
    That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death,
    The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
    No traveller returns, puzzles the will
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprises of great pith and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry,
    And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
    The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remember'd!”
    ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

    ReplyDelete
  3. It doesn't seem right to add anything after that so I won't.

    ReplyDelete