THE BRITISH THREAD II

Mac-

It's "the band I wanted to hear was on last night"

The band is a singular.

Do you say things like- "We was standing in the pub and Jeff were chatting this bird up and a bloke walked in the door and asked us was we the blokes who is mate were bringing the gear in for". ?

You should watch knuckle-dragging heavy metal outfits. Get in touch with the real you.

Was the ones you were wanting to watch anything like what The Beatles was like.

We band of brothers should not get our knickers in a twist about grammatical minutiae, especially if the mistake is made by me.

Spendy, you should get out more.

Did you enjoy your birthday?

This week wandeljw, spendius, and smorgs all celebrate their three year anniversary at A2K!

So we need some sort of party . No?

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them".

Lest we forget.



Entire poem, written in 1914.

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Robert Binyon, 1869-1943

well I'm wearing my poppy today. What a bloody waste of human life. We can remember them. We can also remember the utter pointlessness of much of it. Step forward all you statesmen politicians and guardians of the nation.

Grumpy this morning, Steve?

Remember, life can be beautiful...

A bit confusing to catch the drift of this thread. Gordon, Khartom, Birthday - was it Spendius or the U.S. Marine Corps??, commemorative poetry. . Finally it came to me, what we once called 'Armistice Day".

Well, WWI was a great tragedy, but its roots were at least two generations growing, and many actors in many countries had many opportunities to send events careening off in a different, perhaps better, direction. Sadly none were taken.

But as Francis stated, life is indeed beautiful, and flowers do bloom in the ashes of the past.

George, what are you doing awake in the middle on the night?

Back from a very pleasant dinner with friends and enjoying a contemplative glass of port before bed.

Why do you get going so early on Sunday morning? (early Mass??)

Oh! What brand is your Port wine?


It's not early here, around 11:00 AM now.

What else to do, by a miserable weather Sunday morning?

Spendy, the trees are blocking your view of the wood.

We do not say "Chelsea is entertaining Manchester United tomorrow", or "Queens Park Rangers is at the bottom of Division 1", although these football clubs are singular nouns.

That's quite normal. And so it is with "band", if we choose.

So take your big hooter out of your armpit and smell the coffee.

:wink:

I watched some of the service of remembrance from Whitehall on TV, and I wore my poppy.

Years ago I used to turn out on parade on Remembrance Sunday as a member of the Boys' Brigade, with a high polish on my shoes and brass belt buckle and my knees all red. Winters were colder in those days.

For the living. And for the millions slaughtered servicing the aspirations of a few? They never had a chance to experience the beauty of life.

I got your point, Steve. However, read my words: Life can be beautiful...

I went for a long walk in the woods today.

Then had a cuppa in Quarry bank cafe. Sat and read my book; The Heart Shaped Box, it's really good, a modern day ghost story about an old rock star who buys a ghost on the internet. Sat there a bit too long, the autumn sun was deceptive. My cheeks were all red when I got home.

Francis is right...

Life IS beautiful.

Do what y'all doin'? Is the Sunday dinner on?

x

spendi was just on another thread babbling and making no sense. Does anyone care about his well being? Is he able to feed himself and engage in basic hygiene? Or must I send the Salvation ARmy Special Forces over there to look after the old twat.

We've got our own Salvation Army.

I think Spendy has got a whole division assigned to him.

Hey, do the American SA play brass instruments? I bet they do, I saw it in Guys and Dolls

Sounds good, Smorgs.
The weather was nice, eh.

We went and bought a new telly. Looking forward to seeing MOTD 2 on it.

fm-

Let's see you try a few acronyms. That's a reasonable senility test.

Put up or shut up. There's nothing to siiting there allowing your fevered imagination to run away with your little ego.