A loft full of bicycles
Oct. 24th, 2005 04:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hirezSome number of years ago, small brother and I were taken off to Snowshill Manor by mater. I guess it's obvious now, but wandering around a large and rambling house that's filled with mad things must have had rather an effect on me.
It's a bit more popular now, but still filled with mad things. Armada chests, for one. Head-warpingly odd Japanese clocks that divide the daylight into the same number of hours throughout the year (So there aren't more daylight hours in summer, they're longer.) for another. A loft full of early bicycles for riding down one or other staircase while drunk. Clockwork bellows and a promotional cutout Queen Anne. Clocks. Rooms of them.
Then there was field recording of stationary engines. Twenties mechanical glitch masterpieces. Agricultural music for agricultural people.
On Friday, part of my past arrived and charged the food to expenses. All very fine indeed.
Today I am accountably tired, yet still emitting code. In both senses.
It's a bit more popular now, but still filled with mad things. Armada chests, for one. Head-warpingly odd Japanese clocks that divide the daylight into the same number of hours throughout the year (So there aren't more daylight hours in summer, they're longer.) for another. A loft full of early bicycles for riding down one or other staircase while drunk. Clockwork bellows and a promotional cutout Queen Anne. Clocks. Rooms of them.
Then there was field recording of stationary engines. Twenties mechanical glitch masterpieces. Agricultural music for agricultural people.
On Friday, part of my past arrived and charged the food to expenses. All very fine indeed.
Today I am accountably tired, yet still emitting code. In both senses.
