31 December 2011
30 December 2011
29 December 2011
28 December 2011
28/12/11
"Thank you to the people, thank you to Tahrir Square that taught me to challenge, thank you to the revolution that taught me perseverance.”
Samira Ibrahim
27 December 2011
26 December 2011
25 December 2011
24 December 2011
23 December 2011
22 December 2011
22/12/11
I know technically yesterday was the solstice but today is the shortest day! Things can only get longer.....
21 December 2011
21/12/11
Morning all, Thauma you wanted to know about eye colour genetics, as I suspected eye colour is more complicated (not controlled by single genes):http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/6195091.stm
20 December 2011
19 December 2011
18 December 2011
17 December 2011
16 December 2011
15 December 2011
14 December 2011
13 December 2011
12 December 2011
11 December 2011
10 December 2011
09 December 2011
08 December 2011
07 December 2011
06 December 2011
05 December 2011
04 December 2011
03 December 2011
02 December 2011
01 December 2011
30 November 2011
29 November 2011
28 November 2011
27 November 2011
26 November 2011
25 November 2011
24 November 2011
23 November 2011
23/11/11
Evenin' all! Been busy today (Xmas stuff) Been sunny herehope all is well. Our wonderful PM still succeeds in depressing me OMG we didn't elect him but I suppose we'll have Business studies graduates ruling us soon!
Why is my text underlined when I don't have a button fpr it?
22 November 2011
21 November 2011
21/11/11
Afternoon all!
Thought I'd put up a thread as its nearly 2pm
Miserable day here in Cardiff wet and dark
20 November 2011
19 November 2011
18 November 2011
17 November 2011
16 November 2011
15 November 2011
14 November 2011
13 November 2011
12 November 2011
11 November 2011
11/11/11
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
10 November 2011
09 November 2011
08 November 2011
08/11/11
So Cameron and Lansley are lying about the NHS
Some nice graphs here hint at what they are doing
It can be seen that the incidence of cancer is going up we also have an aging population and you are increasingly likely to get cancer as you get older. The population has also increased.
So the Tories claim that the NUMBER of cancer deaths has increased and attack the NHS for it.
In fact of course despite the INCREASE in incidence of cancer(caused at least in part by a higher proportion of older people) the PROPORTION of deaths from cancer has decreased.
One thing we need to do on the left is eo get more savvy about stats and expose the way that the Condems lie with statistics.
07 November 2011
06 November 2011
06/11/11
Occupy London welcomes Ed Miliband’s recognition that we have something important to add to the conversation about how we can make this country a better, fairer place – just as we would welcome the support of anyone else.
Writing in this Sunday’s Observer, Miliband comments: “The challenge is that they reflect a crisis of concern for millions of people about the biggest issue of our time: the gap between their values and the way our country is run.”
Occupy London’s formal response will be discussed and debated by our General Assemblies, which will take place at 1pm and 7pm tomorrow at St Paul’s Churchyard. All are welcome to join in this discussion whether your viewpoint is from the left, right or neither.
05 November 2011
05/11/11
ATILLA THE STOCKBROKER - 'I wrote this song in the Mother Shipton Inn, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire, on the day Blair's government voted to support Bush's illegal war in Iraq. I was on tour in the North of England and had gone to Knaresborough because it is a very historic town, a famous English Civil War site and the birthplace of Guy Fawkes Sitting in that pub I noticed a plaque on the - very old - table next to my pint. 'This table belonged to Guy Fawkes' it said....'
GUY FAWKES' TABLE
I'm sitting at Guy Fawkes' table
The day Parliament voted for war
Though the mass of the people opposed it
And it flouts international law
I'm sitting at Guy Fawkes' table
While American thugs flaunt their power
Egged on by a sad little muppet
And his craven and cowardly shower.
CHORUS
Aneurin Bevan, your party is dead
And the time for a new one is nigh
Will the last person Left please turn out the lights?
New Labour, just f**k* off and die.
They won't be caught up in the carnage
They'll be pontificating right here
Their kids won't be Iraqi conscripts
Mowed down while they're shitting with fear
Saddam was the Yanks’ chosen ally
On a whim, they now say he must fall
So they’ll carpet bomb defenceless soldiers -
But that’s not ‘mass destruction’ at all....
CHORUS
I'm sitting at Guy Fawkes' table
As Bush and his muppet connive
And I'm filled with unspeakable anger
And I'm thinking of 1605
One message, Dishonourable Members
Who endorsed an illegal attack -
No, I don't want to bomb you like Guy did
But I'd love to send you to Iraq.
CHORUS
We need a new socialist party -
But not the Judean People's Front
Not another small sect, but a movement
With the power to change and confront
We need an electoral system
Which gives every voter a voice
'Cos we're fed up with voting for traitors
And we have the right to a choice!
CHORUS
I thought this fits the day, the current sabre rattling, and the cyrrent srare if the Labour party
04 November 2011
04/11/11
A school near Llanberis where my mother went to a schoolgirl's camp in 1930. I wonder if its still there, so many small villages in Wales have lost their schools, and this has usually had a bad effect on the communitiy.
03 November 2011
02 November 2011
02/11/11
Very Novemberish here today its four o'clock and no thread up so here it is .
I feel like the only person in the universe (its the weather I think!)
Can't find a picture or a poem sorry
Disqus eating posts again this http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/nov/02/uk-military-iran-attack-nuclear suggests traditional method of getting out of a recesion!
01 November 2011
1/11/11
November
by Thomas Hood
No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--
No "t'other side the way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!
31 October 2011
30 October 2011
29 October 2011
28 October 2011
28/10/11
Afternoon all! Sunny day here in Cardiff.
Found this lurking on my hard drive:
The poor have been rebels, but they have never been anarchists; they have more interest than anyone else in there being some decent government. The poor man really has a stake in the country. The rich man hasn’t; he can go away to New Guinea in a yacht. The poor have sometimes objected to being governed badly; the rich have always objected to being governed at all. Aristocrats were always anarchists.
G.K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday
27 October 2011
26 October 2011
26/10/11
Thaumaturge editing the header in hopes that it appears. Disqus is acting up and, in order to see all of today's posts, it seems you have to write a comment and refresh - then you'll see the lot. Up to that point, anyway. Meh.
As of 6:48 pm, there are at least 17 comments, not bloody 6 as Disqus claims.
25 October 2011
24 October 2011
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