rebness: (Red!)
My first love, long before writing and self-indulgent fanfic turned my head, was art. I wanted to be an animator when I grew up and nothing relaxes me like painting or sketching something, even now.

I love trawling Deviantart for unique and beautiful artwork as much as I love finding godawful things. Now, I'm not The Greatest Artist ever, so I never criticise the artists but somebody linked to Why Would You Draw That? on Tumblr and I have not stopped laughing. It's fantastic. It's not even the badly-drawn pieces which make me laugh (hey, we all start out terrible and improve) but the really insane ones, the pictures that make you do a double-take because... wat?



Just look at this. Look at it. What's up with Sonic's face? Well, it's furry pr0n. I've cut it as it's NSFW. I don't have anything against furry art; each to their own. But that face is hardly erotic.

I have to share some of these awesome, awesome pictures with youbeneath the cut. )
 
rebness: (Default)

Working with tenuously-linked relatives (i.e. 20th cousin twice-removed), I have managed to make some headway with my mother's maternal grandmother and her side of the family line. Whereas the Gordons enjoyed silly adventures and fell from a position of monied idleness in Scotland (I wonder if Alexander ever regretted running away with the maidservant), the Gauls were just one long line of Fail.

Robert Gaul was born around 1800, possibly in Lincoln, before deciding to set off on his merry way and go and see Liverpool. There, he fell in with Esther Connor, an Irish immigrant and they had an amazing life together.

If by Amazing Life, we mean thrown into the Walton workhouse, along with their children. Esther died there at 47 years of age; Robert once again disappears from history.

All their children made their way out of the workhouse eventually, although one son, Thomas (and a direct ancestor of mine) seemed to really, really like that place. For what does he do but get slung back in there when he's 50? His wife Ann either scarpered or died, which really was probably the most sensible option. What a joyless lot! They could have at least called one of their sons Asterix.

Anyway, so I Googled Walton workhouse. Pssh! Good thing nobody ends up there these days. And it was this: 



At which point, I was all OMGWTF! Because, during a particularly depressing and awful, awful stint working at Aintree hospital, I had to go to the grey, ugly, despairing Walton hospital site to work. I honestly thought my working life could not get any worse. And the view from my window in that hellish place was... this clock tower. Yes, Walton Workhouse became Walton Hospital. The Gaul Fail continues for another generation. D: 



rebness: (Being Human: WTF)

“I opened the driver’s door wide. It opened easily. The person looked at me... I said ’You’ve got to get out of the car. It’s going to burst into flames’. The person replied ’F*** off, just f*** off’ and she raised her right fist towards me in a threatening manner before slamming the door shut."

Woman in road-rage strop allows herself to be burnt to death to prove a point.

D:

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rebness

August 2013

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