Jack Vettriano Cafe DaysJack Vettriano Busted FlushJack Vettriano Bluebird
mean and turf and I'm mean and turf,
'And me an' my friends can walk towards you
with our hats on backwards in a menacing way,
'Yo!'
Gortlick chewed the end of his composing hammer thoughtfully.
'Good rhythm,' he said, 'but the words need some work.'
'You mean more gold'The Cavern?' screamed Glod. 'Chrysoprase the troll runs it, that's the problem!'
'Dey say he's a godfather in the Breccia,' said Cliff.
'Now now, that's never been proved . . .'
'Only 'cos it's very hard to prove things when someone's scooped a hole in your head and buried your feet in it!'
'There's no need for this prejudice, just because he's a troll–, gold, gold?''Ye‑es. What're you thinking of calling it?''Er . . . r . . . rat . . . music. . .''Why rat music?'Hammerjug looked puzzled.'Couldn't really say,' he said. 'It was just an idea I had in my brain.'Gortlick shook his head. Dwarfs were a burrowing race. He knew what they liked.'Good music's got to have hole in it,' he said. 'You ain't got nothing if you ain't got hole.''Now calm down, calm down,' said Dibbler. 'It's the biggest venue in Ankh‑Morpork, that's why. I don't see what the problem is . . .'
Thursday 14 May 2009
Tuesday 12 May 2009
Jack Vettriano The Runaways
Jack Vettriano The RunawaysJack Vettriano The Rooms of a StrangerJack Vettriano The Road to Nowhere
hello, Archchancellor. Is there a problem?'
'What were you doing?'
The Lecturer The wizards looked at their feet with some surprise.
'My word, I thought I was a bit taller,' said the Senior Wrangler. ' I put it down to the celery diet
'Proper footwear for a wizard is pointy shoes or good stout boots,' said Ridcully. 'When one's footwear turns creepy, something's amiss.'looked down at the table.'He was syncopating,' said the Dean.'I never was!'Ridcully frowned. He was a thick‑skinned, single-minded man with the tact of a sledgehammer and about the same sense of humour, but he was not stupid. And he knew that wizards were like weathervanes, or the canaries that miners used to detect pockets of gas. They were by their nature tuned to an occult frequency. If there was anything strange happening, it tended to happen to wizards. They turned, as it were, to face it. Or dropped off their perch.'Why's everyone suddenly so musical?' he said. 'Using the term in its loosest sense, of course.' He looked at the assembled wizardry. And then down towards the floor.'You've all got crepe on your shoes!'
hello, Archchancellor. Is there a problem?'
'What were you doing?'
The Lecturer The wizards looked at their feet with some surprise.
'My word, I thought I was a bit taller,' said the Senior Wrangler. ' I put it down to the celery diet
'Proper footwear for a wizard is pointy shoes or good stout boots,' said Ridcully. 'When one's footwear turns creepy, something's amiss.'looked down at the table.'He was syncopating,' said the Dean.'I never was!'Ridcully frowned. He was a thick‑skinned, single-minded man with the tact of a sledgehammer and about the same sense of humour, but he was not stupid. And he knew that wizards were like weathervanes, or the canaries that miners used to detect pockets of gas. They were by their nature tuned to an occult frequency. If there was anything strange happening, it tended to happen to wizards. They turned, as it were, to face it. Or dropped off their perch.'Why's everyone suddenly so musical?' he said. 'Using the term in its loosest sense, of course.' He looked at the assembled wizardry. And then down towards the floor.'You've all got crepe on your shoes!'
Monday 11 May 2009
Edward Hopper Soir Bleu
Edward Hopper Soir BleuEdward Hopper Cape Cod MorningAmedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAlphonse Maria Mucha Summer
the "There's no such thing" and a bit more of the "I didn't know", yes?'
'Everyone knows ‑ I mean, it's not logical that there's an old man in a beard who gives everyone sausages and chitterlings on Hogswatchnight, is it?'
'I don't know about logic. Never learned about logic,' said the raven. 'Living on a skull ain't exactly logical, but that's what I do.'you don't believe in the Hogfather?'
'I'd better be going anyway,' said Susan. 'Um. Thank you.'
'Lock up behind you and chuck the key through the window,' said the raven.
The room was silent after she'd gone, except for the crackle as coals settled in the furnace.
Then the skull said: 'Kids today, eh?'
'I blame education,' said the raven.'And there can't be a Sandman who goes around throwing sand in children's eyes,' said Susan, but in tones of uncertainty. 'You'd . . . never get enough sand in one bag.''Could be. Could be.''I'd better be going,' said Susan. 'Miss Butts always checks the dorms on the stroke of midnight.''How many dormitories are there?' said the raven.'About thirty, I think.''You believe she checks them all at midnight and
the "There's no such thing" and a bit more of the "I didn't know", yes?'
'Everyone knows ‑ I mean, it's not logical that there's an old man in a beard who gives everyone sausages and chitterlings on Hogswatchnight, is it?'
'I don't know about logic. Never learned about logic,' said the raven. 'Living on a skull ain't exactly logical, but that's what I do.'you don't believe in the Hogfather?'
'I'd better be going anyway,' said Susan. 'Um. Thank you.'
'Lock up behind you and chuck the key through the window,' said the raven.
The room was silent after she'd gone, except for the crackle as coals settled in the furnace.
Then the skull said: 'Kids today, eh?'
'I blame education,' said the raven.'And there can't be a Sandman who goes around throwing sand in children's eyes,' said Susan, but in tones of uncertainty. 'You'd . . . never get enough sand in one bag.''Could be. Could be.''I'd better be going,' said Susan. 'Miss Butts always checks the dorms on the stroke of midnight.''How many dormitories are there?' said the raven.'About thirty, I think.''You believe she checks them all at midnight and
Friday 8 May 2009
Thomas Kinkade Seaside Village
Thomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of HopeEdward Hopper Summertime
careful what you wish for. You never know who will be listening.
Or what, for that matter.
Because, It had continually puzzled Death in his more introspective moments, and this was one of them, why his servant always walked the same path across the floor.
I MEAN, he thought, CONSIDER THE SIZE OF THE ROOM . . .
. . . which went on to infinity, or as near infinity as makes no difference. In fact it was about a mile. That's big for a room, whereas infinity you can hardly see.
Death had got rather flustered when he'd created the house. Time and space were things to be manipulated, not obeyed. The internal dimensions had been a little too generous. He'd forgotten to perhaps, something could be drifting through the universes, and a few words by the wrong person at the right moment may just cause it to veer in its course . . .Far away in the bustling metropolis of Ankh‑Morpork there was a brief crawling of sparks across an otherwise bare wall and then . . .. . . there was a shop. An old musical instrument shop. No‑one remarked on its arrival. As soon as it appeared, it had always been there.Death sat staring at nothing, chinbone resting on his hands. Albert approached very carefully.
careful what you wish for. You never know who will be listening.
Or what, for that matter.
Because, It had continually puzzled Death in his more introspective moments, and this was one of them, why his servant always walked the same path across the floor.
I MEAN, he thought, CONSIDER THE SIZE OF THE ROOM . . .
. . . which went on to infinity, or as near infinity as makes no difference. In fact it was about a mile. That's big for a room, whereas infinity you can hardly see.
Death had got rather flustered when he'd created the house. Time and space were things to be manipulated, not obeyed. The internal dimensions had been a little too generous. He'd forgotten to perhaps, something could be drifting through the universes, and a few words by the wrong person at the right moment may just cause it to veer in its course . . .Far away in the bustling metropolis of Ankh‑Morpork there was a brief crawling of sparks across an otherwise bare wall and then . . .. . . there was a shop. An old musical instrument shop. No‑one remarked on its arrival. As soon as it appeared, it had always been there.Death sat staring at nothing, chinbone resting on his hands. Albert approached very carefully.
Wednesday 6 May 2009
Jean Beraud Le Boulevard St. Denis Paris
Jean Beraud Le Boulevard St. Denis ParisJean Beraud Le Bal MabileJean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevard
light turned the city into a network of silver lines and shadows.
Once upon a time the Tower of Art had been the centre of the city, but cities tend to migrate gently with time and Ankh-Morpork's centre The window was resolutely shut.
'But she always leaves it open,' Angua whined 'Must have shut it tonight,' said Gaspode. 'There's a lot of strange people about.'
'But she knows about strange people,' said Angua. 'Most of them live in her house!'was now several hundred yards away. The tower still dominated the city, though; its black shape reared against the evening sky, contriving to look blacker than mere shadows would suggest.Hardly anyone ever looked at the Tower of Art, because it was always there. It was just a thing. People hardly ever look at familiar things.There was a very faint clink of metal on stone. For a moment, anyone close to the tower and looking in exactly the right place might have fancied that a patch of even blacker darkness was slowly but inexorably moving towards the top.For a moment, the moonlight caught a slim metal tube, slung across the figure's back. Then it swung into shadow again as it climbed onwards.
light turned the city into a network of silver lines and shadows.
Once upon a time the Tower of Art had been the centre of the city, but cities tend to migrate gently with time and Ankh-Morpork's centre The window was resolutely shut.
'But she always leaves it open,' Angua whined 'Must have shut it tonight,' said Gaspode. 'There's a lot of strange people about.'
'But she knows about strange people,' said Angua. 'Most of them live in her house!'was now several hundred yards away. The tower still dominated the city, though; its black shape reared against the evening sky, contriving to look blacker than mere shadows would suggest.Hardly anyone ever looked at the Tower of Art, because it was always there. It was just a thing. People hardly ever look at familiar things.There was a very faint clink of metal on stone. For a moment, anyone close to the tower and looking in exactly the right place might have fancied that a patch of even blacker darkness was slowly but inexorably moving towards the top.For a moment, the moonlight caught a slim metal tube, slung across the figure's back. Then it swung into shadow again as it climbed onwards.
Sunday 3 May 2009
William Beard Dancing Bears
William Beard Dancing BearsAndy Warhol Shot Orange Marilyn 1964Andy Warhol Portrait of MauriceAndy Warhol Page from Lips Book
widows of coppers?' she said.
He nodded. 'And one orphan.'
'It's a tough old life,' said Colon. 'No pensions for widows, see.'
He looked from 'I mean, half his pay!'
'I don't know what he's holding in here,' said Carrot, ignoring her. 'Maybe it's a clue.'
He took the coffee and hauled up Vimes by his collar.
'You just drink this, captain,' he said, 'and everything will look a lot . . . clearer . . .'
Klatchian coffee has an even bigger sobering effect than an unexpectone to the other.'Is there something wrong?' he said.Carrot relaxed his grip, turned, slipped the book into the box, and shut the lid.'No,' he said.'Look, I'm sorr—' Angua began. Carrot ignored her and nodded at the sergeant.'Give him the coffee.''But . . . fourteen dollars . . . that's nearly half his pay!'Carrot picked up Vimes' limp arm and tried to prise his fist open, but even though Vimes was out cold the fingers were locked.
widows of coppers?' she said.
He nodded. 'And one orphan.'
'It's a tough old life,' said Colon. 'No pensions for widows, see.'
He looked from 'I mean, half his pay!'
'I don't know what he's holding in here,' said Carrot, ignoring her. 'Maybe it's a clue.'
He took the coffee and hauled up Vimes by his collar.
'You just drink this, captain,' he said, 'and everything will look a lot . . . clearer . . .'
Klatchian coffee has an even bigger sobering effect than an unexpectone to the other.'Is there something wrong?' he said.Carrot relaxed his grip, turned, slipped the book into the box, and shut the lid.'No,' he said.'Look, I'm sorr—' Angua began. Carrot ignored her and nodded at the sergeant.'Give him the coffee.''But . . . fourteen dollars . . . that's nearly half his pay!'Carrot picked up Vimes' limp arm and tried to prise his fist open, but even though Vimes was out cold the fingers were locked.
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