Saturday, 30 May 2020

a pandemic of weeds

The seeds blow everywhere in the early evening breeze, landing on the fresh-tilled soil. Soon they will burrow into the ground, biding their time. The summer heat won't burn them off. The winter snows won't freeze them. And then, when the time is right, they will erupt once more. Colonizing. Taking over.  A pandemic of weeds.

Saturday, 23 May 2020

quizzical musings ...

Well I've finally gone and done it!

Last night I popped my quiz-master 'cherry' at 'The Locked Inn', a Zoom cyber-pub hosted by Steve Vaughan, the legendary photographer, podcaster and general all round good-egg. In a moment of foolishness he accepted my offer to lead the regular Friday night quiz.

It did mean getting up at five in the morning to compile the questions, but it was so worth it. You can tell from the rapt expressions on the faces of the participants above just how excited they were by the time the quiz finally ground to an inexorable halt in the late hours of the evening.

We kicked off with 'Hair', a little amuse bouche to whet the appetite for the feast ahead. Next, for the history lovers, was a short exploration of the story of urine through the ages, cunningly entitled, 'Taking the piss'.

Having immersed ourselves in the golden stuff it was but a hop and a skip to the one quasi-cultural element of the quiz, inserted solely to meet the tough editorial standards laid down by Mr Vaughan in the Locked Inn's inaugural broadcasting charter.

'The Arts' did not delay us long and the penultimate round saw a swift return to barrel-bottom scraping with a series of questions on Famous Quotes. We learned, in particular, the wisdom of avoiding men with short legs. 

The end was by now in sight as we plunged headlong into 'the 'F' word', a round so lacking in taste it bore all the hallmarks of early Covid-19 symptoms. 

Quiz over, a few brave souls stayed on for the traditional post question-time debrief, during which yours truly fell fast asleep, doubtless as a consequence of the five o'clock start coupled with the contents of a cheeky little bottle of Sauvignon Blanc .  At one point some late-nighters speculated as to whether I had passed away, but stoically they continued the banter without me.

Mordant apologies to Steve and to all participants in the Locked Inn quiz for letting the side down so badly!!