When we take away the the roof of the house (almost) we se the roof of the world!
I don't know what's wrong with my roof. Never do I get anything as fascinating as what you offer. Maybe I should look at it at different hours.
@ Jams O'Donnell Esq.:What you see is the roof of the world. Moreover, it is the roof of all universes; the roof of Omnium.
Jams,I'd have to be 100 percent bicycle, did I dare to gainsay Officer Pluck.Claude,two weeks in Seanhenge, and you will start to see things ... :)
The floor actually, I'd say. You are upside down compared to most of the universe. Don't suppose you can be expected to realise that though.
Certainly, dear Anomnius,and Rocinante is riding Don QuiScottie whose Lady's name is Aeniclud.
I'm confused! Am I standing on my feet, or on my head, here? It doesn't really matter. The Toronto sky must have heard my complaint. It's much more interesting now than it was one hour ago.
I think you'll find that that knight you call Don QuiScottie is currently riding on the shoulders of a fine man called Shaunso while the place of the Lady Dulcinea has been taken by someone who looks uncommonly like a rough Germanic bearded man, and the horse called Rocinante is wearing a fine suit of armour and holding a lance, rather menacingly... Things are definitely upside down somewhere, at the moment... But equilibrium shall be restored, one day.
Also known as: 'Blue and White Minus Roof'?
I am currently residing high in a windmill as my deluded (but sweet) Not-Knight is mad with the brain fever more than usual (which is a lot) and has moved us in here because he says it's the only place he can look out of and not be tormented by the sight of "that damned windmill". There is some illogical logic in his sweet madness, don't you see? So he is spending some time mad in order to look outwards and see what sanity is. He says he should feel better by late October. I think that means he'll be back to his mad deluded self then. Which is better? At least life is never dull...
Andrewminous ... err ... Anomnius,... and may the day come soon. Fierce stuff you're telling.And close your ears in time when Shaunso – unlike Seanso – is using "the baaaaaaad f-word" as Mrs. Doyleuses to put it; and may the horse called Rocinante in her a fine suit of armour does not stick the effing pitchfork ... err ... lance up your hole. Ha ha, Ashley,that's indeed been an option, but then I remembered you're fond of minimalism.Dulcinea,I see, precious pearl of Perth. And while you are residing high in a windmill, deep down your prince is shoutwhispering "Dulcinea, Dulcinea, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair."?
Actually the Dear Dashing Don is up here beside me, quite snugly settled in, frequently looking out of the high window and muttering, "Windmills are actually quite nice really, aren't they?"Has he finally gone completely mad, or at last come back to his senses?Oh... now he is talking about going for a ride on one of the sails, so I think the madness is in him still...
Oh... The Deluded Don did decide to go for a ride on a sail, but (not being completely mad) he waited until the wind was very light; but (as a consequence) as soon as he reached the zenith of the ride atop the sail his additional weight caused the sail to completely stop, and the wind has all gone now. Oh dear, so envisage this: the Don is now trapped atop a windmill sail high atop a windmill. Such is his destiny and... Oh... a moment... Oh..., I heard a pained cry so had to take a look, and it seems a little breath of wind slipped him just a little from his precarious perch and the pointy top of the sail strut has penetrated the Don's eh... seating parts somewhat in a most discomfitting manner. Oh dear, the Don really has now received his come-uppance (shall we say?) from his deadlies enemy. The good news is that he has only been trapped up there for six hours. The bad news is there is no wind forecast for the next three days. Ah well... what to do? A slim young fellow (who makes me blush) has just arrived "to service the windmill", so Dulcinea must go now and let the servicing begin. I hope the noise of this does not disturb the Don.
Precious Pearl of Perth,the windmillishness of your words has been able to set my heart in excitement. Pray tell me, did you also learn something about the someone mentioned and described by Anomnius as looking uncommonly like a rough Germanic bearded man?
The very mention of a Rough Germanic Bearded Man does set my heart aflutter. Do you know of one???? I do confess that the Don's obsessions have led my gaze to stray, from time to time. I am not quite what he imagines, for he is, don't we know, a deeply deluded Don (and he's still impaled by his ass on the top of the sail strut, by the way...) Ha! If he knew that his Princess could speak such words! And that she would use such offences as this: :))))) You know, I even feed the neel to putt in a tipogriphical typo or twoo, Hee, Hee... Oh... I think I heard him cry a little whimper there, but I know how to fix that: I'll shut the window.
Now (by way of an update)... isn't this the strangest thing?... Halfway through a rare night without my Don, so many hours, and an unfamiliar feeling has come over me... I described it in full to a man... oh no, two men... who happened to be eh... with me... (helping out).. and one of them said "Ah, I think I know what you are feeling lady." And when I asked him to explain what it was that I was feeling, he said: "Happy."..... Hmm... Happy? This is not something my Don has ever shared or explained with me, and I have relied on him to explain everything. Can there be some sensation that he is completely unaware of? "Happy?"... I must ask him when he gets down... though even with what little I now know of this happy phenomenon I do believe he may feel just a little bit of this "Happy" for once, when that sail strut finally gets dislodged from his noble ass.
Ah... I return to busy to read any of the other doubtless celebratory words here, but I must report: With noble and huge APOLOGIES for taking up dear Seanso's space... Oh what a battle! What a victory! Then what joy! With noble understatement I'll be brief: I boldly entered the very body of my most evil enemy. I bravely surmounted the enemy's topmost tip. I engaged in a long war of endurance and then, of course, I left it beaten, bent and covered in blood while proud Rocinante took me on the most exuberant of celebratory rides (not realising that, to be truthful, my wounds from the battle were smarting stoutly as we jolted merrily along). But still, further joy awaited me as we eventually returned and I approached my sweet lady's bedchamber to find that there was what must have been a doctor in attendance – a rough country doctor, but still – as I listened at the doorway, initially concerned, I heard her moan a little moan and murmur, “Oh... I am so happy!” Well... you can imagine my jubilant joy at hearing my lady declare how happy she was, most surely meaning happy with her life with me, her Daring Dashing Don. So happy that she must have swooned with happiness at witnessing my triumph and thus, have felt need to call the (rough young) doctor lest her fluttering happy heart should burst from inside her heaving chest. As the doctor left her chamber he seemed somewhat startled to see me outside. Well he would be, to meet such a great Don in the flesh, but then he winked at me and heartily declared, “In you go... She's the best.” And so in I went, rejoicing at such professional confirmation of what I already knew, and my lady also seemed somewhat startled to see me, but soon regained her calm as I knelt by her bedside and assured her, “I am now back, my love, my battles all done and I am ready to deliver unto my lady the love that she so needs.” Well, imagine my surprise and pride when, instead of worrying about her own clear, immediate and swollen needs, my lady just said, “Oh noble knight, keep your delivery to yourself meantime, till tomorrow, or maybe next week, until a long, hot bath has soothed your wounds. And she sent me off to the bathing room with a potion to afterwards take that would, she solicitously assured me, let me sleep for two full days and nights. Such consideration! But now... Here is an even more wondrous thing. So many young men were now clamouring to get in, most surely to congratulate the triumphant Don, that I had to lock them out; yet even now as I recline bruised and nobly naked in my bath they are using ladders and ropes and long poles to clamber up the walls to greet me. But of course, and this is what is so hilarious,.. ha ha... they must expect me to be inside my lady's bedchamber, for that is where they are all heading! Ha ha! Imagine her sweet shy blushes as she sternly directs them back down the stairs and out, which she must be doing with such infinite considerate quietness that I cannot even hear them go! What it is to have such a wonderful fine and considerate lady happy to let me bathe my wounds then sleep for two full days and nights before I deliver unto her the love that she must be so aching to receive... And so, a warm bath... a sip of the potion... And to (almost) quote another fine old and noble friend of mine: All is surely for the best in this best of all possible … windmills... Oh my world... Oh my lady... … And, oh my sore, sore ass...
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