Tuesday, 2 February 2016

Welcome to the Jungle



The devil makes work for idle hands, apparently. So, y'know, cross stitch. Saving souls since the Middle Ages. There are a lot of cool designs out there via Subversive Cross Stitch and similar, but given the small people I live with, this kind of design is still out for a few years:



A great housewarming gift for childfree couples though, eh?

My version is a cross-stitched QR code - those unique 'fingerprint' designs that marketing departments stick on posters etc in the vain hope that consumers will zap them with a smartphone app and 'engage with further content' from the brand. Anyway, you can make your own for free using a QR code generator, and link it to whatever URL you fancy. If you print the resulting code out on A4 paper and draw a grid over the top, you have an automatic cross stitch pattern. 

I picked the YouTube link to Welcome to the Jungle by Guns n' Roses. 
Not very complicated really, but essential to keep count properly, as any mistake means it won't work and it will be a right arse to work out where you went wrong! 

Being very childishly pleased with myself when it worked, I went on to make one for the kitchen which takes you to this classic line from Withnail and I



It's by the wine rack of course.

Lakota x

Thursday, 31 December 2015

New Years Resolutions of the Stars - 2016

Hey bitches, I'm back! And so are these guys, more's the pity...

Kylie Jenner

So, like, I was an Aunt again this year. Saint is cute but I can't show you a picture cos we haven't figured out where will give us the most cash yet. He puked on my Givenchy though, which was gross. Kim and Kanye had like the hardest time picking his name. I liked 'Wild West', Rob liked 'John' which is like, totally lame, just like him, and mom was holding out for 'High rate Inter West'. But Saint West is obviously totally #blessed. Cos a Saint is like totally better than a King, right? Tyga was majorly pissed. Oh right, 2016. Well I think I'm mostly gonna continue my quest for natural beauty and showing impressionable teens on instagram how just a simple lipliner can completely change the shape of your pout. And jawline. And butt. #miracle


Taylor Swift


I’m a changed woman this year y’all. Found true love with my bae Calvin, became a feminist (don't criticize the skinny millionaire white chick me, because I'm a woman and if you do that's sexist) and didn't write any songs about anyone in particular. Except Katy Perry. I mean, an unnamed female singer who's a total see you next Tuesday. Bad Blood is absolutely definitely not about how mean she is. I have loads of friends anyway. Right guys? BBQ at my place! Then we can all wear our jammies and bake kittens and stroke cookies! LOL, glitch in the programming there! Totally not manic!
{SquadGoals for 2016 - Eliminate that Adele bitch}


Lemmy


No plans for 2016 beyond the usual. Turns out I died while I was still a member of Hawkwind but the news took a while to filter through. Probably all the Jack Daniels acted as a preservative. Might take a trip with a few mates - Thor, Cilla, Keef and I were planning on taking the bikes for a run down to Brighton, check out the sharks at the Sea Life Centre - then probably another tour...


Idris Elba

OBE, man. Check that out. Stands for Omnipotent Babe Enchanter. Whether I'm making your mum fall in love with a Baltimore drug kingpin - "ooh he's a good looking man, that Stringer Bell" - foiling serial killers whilst whilst wearing tweed better than Benedict Cumberbatch, or being mooted as the first black Bond, you know Queen Liz ain't immune to my charms neither. Aiming for the knighthood in 2016. Arise Sir Idris!


Cheryl Cole
Cheryl Fernandez-Versini
CHERYL

Howay, pet, it's bin a bit of an up an doon year, what with losin' the X Factor te that hoor Rita Ora, an all those people sayin' me marriage te JohnBernard wisna gan to last on accoont o' the language barrier. He's no gannae teyk all me millions, and ah cannae afford any more tattoo removal like. So 2016 is the year that ah'm finally plannin' te learn English! 


Jeremy Clarkson

Some say that I'm a dinosaur who punched my producer during a row about steak, then lost my job at the BBC for being an unrepentant arse. Luckily the CEO of Amazon Prime called me in for a chat and we bonded over our mutual love of tax avoidance and global warming, and the rest, as they say, is history! Of course, I'll be giving up leather jackets and lamb chops for Veganuary 2016...and on that bombshell - HAPPY NEW YEAR!


Remind yourself of my previous new year nonsense here and here
Lakota x

Thursday, 3 October 2013

National Poetry Day 2013

Thought I might as well mark National Poetry Day, as I do write it occasionally. You know when you're a kid and you get the wrong end of the stick about something you've only heard about in passing? And then you never get disabused of the idea? This is about when I realised the Elgin Marbles weren't big round rocks. Yeah, I was an idiot. And about 25.


A Misapprehension
remembering the British museum

We’d taken the whole day off I think,
escape via annual leave.  A virgin page
in a brand new Moleskine journal, begging
to be filled with our unoriginal musings
on culture and art.  ‘We have this  great city
on our doorstep’.  ‘A scandal’. ‘We really must’
‘Let’s be one of those couples’.

I’d wanted to see the Elgin Marbles.
Since childhood years, I’d pictured those
huge cool spheres. A giant’s game of Rolley Hole,
wasn’t the wonder in how smooth they are?
The seventh Earl called keepsies, when Greece
thought they had been playing fair. [Of course,
 rules should be decided in advance.]

‘Over here’, you said. You realised, but didn't
smirk. My eyes tracked the gallery,
bemused. A cathedral aisle of polished floor;
supplicants crowded the walls. Oh.
Marbles.
How could I not have known? The blood
in my ears felt thicker. Hot. Words buzzed.
Distorted, in swimming pool air.

The sightless fury of a centaur, remaining limbs
still striking for the throat. That discorporate
mare. Poor Ginger on the knacker’s cart,
tongue lolling. Torsos missing only the gibbet.
Exposed to time and air and public scrutiny.
No Arcadian pursuit after all. Who’d have thought?

We bought coffee and perched, high on stools.