Word of the Massacre at Sand Creek took three weeks to reach civilization. By then the bodies of the dead were so decomposed and torn by scavenging birds and animals, that they were impossible to identify.
Identify those flying objects : that's the mission of a Sacramento man well-known among UFO trackers for his careful scrutiny of NASA flights.
When NASA launches another shuttle into orbit, the folks at Mission Control won't be the only ones following its every move.
Jeff Challender will be watching every second of shuttle footage available on cable television from his Sacramento home.
And he'll be recording it, adding it to his collection of hundreds of missions, for proof.
Proof positive- the smoking gun, irrefutable evidence, whatever they call it these days, that's what Amanda feverishly sought. She only had a few brief moments to search the bedroom before Geoff returned from the bar.
Bar Geoff, only Samuel could have been in her room at the precise moment of the murder. And yet - why was the cat outside?
Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. These words of Groucho came back to her- who can tell why?- as she searched for...what? She knew she would only know whan she found it.
It came without warning: all of a sudden, a monstrous wall of water devoured those who had hoped to have their dream vacation and some relaxation... It was terrible, the tsunami. We should pray for their souls.
...Some people reckon that it's a punishment....if it is, what have all those people done?
Done and dusted, that's what they say round here to mean "finished". The job's not over, they say, until you've swept up. Well, imagery is very helpful I think. Get the picture?
Picture a charlady in a tied up headscarf, fag hanging out of one corner of her mouth, shoes out at the toe, with a feather duster, giving cursory swipes at the Victorian ornaments. That's what I think of with 'done and dusted'.
Dusted liberally with icing sugar, the stollen cake is one of the delights of the festive season. Stollen was unknown to me until just a few years ago, and I have tried to make up for this since.
Since you mentioned holiday cakes, I was the fortunate recipient of a huge and absolutely scrumptious Panettone this past Christmas. It was light, yet rich, with a wonderful flavor, and studded with loads of fruit, and there isn't a single morsel of it left now.
Now you're talking! In Italy this Christmas I experienced delicious panetone, and also a miracle of a dessert - millefeuille stuffed with zabaglione.
Zabaglione- there was a Scottish singer who had a name very like that. She belted out "Ma, He's Making Eyes At Me" in a voice of astounding power from such a slender frame. I think she came from Rothesay.
Rothesay has public urinals. These victorian fixtures are located at the pierhead "Public Convinence" at Rothesay, Isle of Bute, just off the west coast of Scotland.
Scotland is ane of those places where they drink a lot of beer, and so have to be prepared for the consequences. Mind you, Rothesay has only about 1000 inhabitants, so how many of them were they expecting at the pierhead at any one time?
Time and time again I got to that place, at the Oktoberfest in Munich. Massive queue's and lots of men's urinals, but only 2 ladies loos - typical!
Typical of your dog to look so bleak, Francis. You put a redundant apostrophe in queues.
Queues are an art form in Britain, and I believe we have the French to thank for the spelling. Thank you, French. Our "queueing" is known in the US with its penchant for literal description as "standing in line".
Line dancing is also a pitiful American offering on the dance scene. I have just started learning a real dance - the tango.
Tango is the dance of your heart's expression, your mind's creativity and your body's creation.
