This is why man needs woman... to remind him that the belly button does need cleaning out occasionally. Nice close-in photography work Sean.
I think I need a clue...
Andrew,you missed it by just 46 / 50 centimetres.... Next time we meet, please remind me of that I wanted to ask you to show me your belly button.CherryPie,the clue is to be found in my reply to Andrew. :)
A very large Merkin Sean?
Dear Jams,this would imply that there lie 46 til 50 centimetres between my unspeakables and my navel, and I am not a giant as Don Quiscottie is.Think northwards. :)
Hmmm, Your beard?
CherryPie,hurrah, she got it!! :)Yeah, the other day, cutting my beard, I thought: Gosh, the old wolf is getting greyer and greyer.Which was to be demonstrated. :)
I found reading through these clues and comments quiet alarming, until, thank goodness, I realised we should be heading up not down.
Honi soit qui mal y pense...Whichever way we go!
A note to Andrew, I have to confess I measured down first and then up, I didn't need to get round to measuring sideways.I had all options covered ;-)
Andrew,you would not have thought I have feet like a hobbit, hm? :)Anyway, the clues inspired the highly esteemed Jams O'Donnell Esq., to teach me a new word which promises to be extraordinarily useful and easy to remember: Did Merlin wear a merkin?Claude,that gives a deeeep insight. :) CherryPie,certain scientists should take a leaf out of your book. :)Herewith retiring, knowing that there will some chuckles keep me from immediately falling asleep.The peace of the night, everybody.
Being a lateral thinker, I reckoned that the distance given could take us to all manner of possibilities, since we should never assume that the straight route is the road we travel (in fact it rarely is). My hypothetical journeys disturbed me. I may have trouble sleeping now.
It was a new word to me as well Sean, and exploring its meaning and origins led me on another disturbing journey. What a strange work is humanity. But now I am wondering why it seems a familiar word to Jams...
Nahhhh! Andrew,Don't let puzzle your bright mind by strange people, Don Quiscottie. Give Dulcinea a tender pat on her gluteus maximus, cuddle close to Rocinante and sleep well, my dear fearless smileys and windmills fighting knight. Oh yes. And as for the disturbing vocabulary of Mr. O'Donnell. I fear it's the bad influence of Ted - not the Father, but the cat.Lots to worry. Lots to worry. ... Gosh, now it's me who won't be able to sleep. What a world. What a mess. Guid nicht.
Dulcinea sleeps, and I fear my tender pat to her 'gluteus nicely-minimus' might earn me a rebuke at this late hour. Rocinante is cavorting in a snowy field with a new pal. So I am, as usual every late night, alone again in an uncaring universe with only the ceaseless lapping of disturbing thoughts to keep me company. Goodnight.
But we care, dear Andrew. We truly, deeply care...Specially when you make us laugh as you did tonight. Sleep well. And come back tomorrow. The Universe needs laughter.
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I left a message but it self destructed. Oh well, Claude got it, and where Claude leads other may follow.
If you click on H.isciens' name you'll reach Andrew's friend's blog. He invited us to visit.It's a very nice place. He is like your Seldom boring, Sean. But be careful. You can't write Andrew's name, or your message will be deleted. Good luck!
Nice one, Sean!Reading the comments I was remindedof the question:Q: What's big and hairy and sticks out of your pyjamas?...A: Your head!
It is a little strange but that self destructing comment found it's way to me through the ethers...
Just as well I'm here too late to guess as I was seeing a frosty back garden.
Andrew,sorry, I did of course mean that you should give Rocinante a tender tap and then cuddle close to sweet Dulcinea.H. Insciens,welcome to Omnium.Right you are. Who am I not to follow Claude. A nice blog you have, Sir. I felt tempted to leave comments; however, before doing so I need to ponder about how I could mention the naughty letter-combination without getting my comment blown up. :)Francis,this reminds me of that I ought not to forget that on Monday I have a date with my figaro ... :)Ha ha, Susan,that's pretty close, you'd only to replace back by face. :)
Well, to make it easier for you Sean, although certain words are indeed forbidden, I do allow smileys over at my pink and helplessly burbling little newborn place, even typos could be overlooked; but no windmills! Some detestations I do share with my unmentionable friend who has today embarked on a trip I have arranged for him and, such is my jealousy of him, he may never be seen in these pages again. I am sure that anything he could do I can do better. Don't ever tell him this, but he taught me all I know. (Oh, but then I know nothing, oh well).
H. inciens,first of all, I do think we, i.e. Claude, CherryPie, the Anonymisses and Anonymize, Dr. K. etc., well, and I do have to find a fine name.As like the unmentionable friend you mention - the one who taught you all things you need to know nothing - you do find windmills detestible: what about Don QuiScottie II then, Cervantes, Cerveza or Uisce Beatha?And what detestation ... err .... destination did you arrange for our badly missed Andrew, alias Don QuiScottie?
Scottie got beamed up! I can hear him complaining now:"Captain, ye canna do this to the old Enterprise - she'll nae be able to do Warp 8 for more than 5 minutes wi'out destroyin' the drives completely!"
Inciens Sean? Who the hell is Inciens? I am Insciens. It's Latin, don't you know? As for my more familiar name, having taken on the old man's quest I am now The Don, or just Don if you wish to be familiar, or anything else you wish apart from the name of my old teacher because it so annoys me when people confuse fresh and friendly me with that grumpy old geezer. Onwards. Although I think I'll blow up these explanations soon, just to clear the path to the future. To the few others who may have read them while scratching heads, apologies for my self-indulgent confusions. Oh, and the old geezer is busy with a long and complicated task (warped perhaps, Francis, perhaps). But I can get on fine without him meantime.
I don't mind your name, Sir KnowNothing. And whatever you're mysteriously doing in our universe. Better than to be Sir InAbsentia (NonPresent).
Claude, you seem to be as confused as I am getting by my inexperienced friend's incoherent ramblings, as your comment seems to imply that you think HE is going to be busy mysteriously doing something, when in fact - and about the one thing he has correctly made clear - it is MOI who is going to be busy, too busy to indulge in much of this sort of nonsense. He (Insciens, The Don, whatever he wants to call himself,) is only writing a new and rambling blog. I, his friend and guru, am going to be busy with much more serious stuff. I do urge him not to blow up his "explanations", for they are so convoluted they are in fact no such things. What a tangle he has got himself into when first he tries to follow in the footsteps of his master. I think he, and I, have said enough on this topic right now, I will get back to my work, quietly, and I suggest that dear Don Insciens gets back to his trivia. Goodnight.
You know, I guessed right, but it took a few moments' pondering! It was mostly the variegated colours that convinced me — combined with the curve of the hairs, which reminded me of my own.