5 bước làm sạch gan đơn giản nhưng ai cũng chủ quan (phần 2)
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Funny people are always happening on trains, light or heavy. And not waiting for an invitation, he launched headlong into the following. One afternoon not so long ago I was sitting in a suburban train bound for Sydney. All at once the young woman next to me gasped and stiffened, fearful perhaps that I was some bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi axe murderer about to let fly.
When nothing bloodthirsty eventuated, she cast a few furtive glances around and under the seat, no doubt in search of lurking implements of mayhem. I have to assume that, finding none, she must have put my muttering down to mere eccentricity, for she managed to ignore me for the rest of the journey. Just as well, too, since in my bag was a complete set of enlarged Cleudo weapon replicas — lead pipe, candlestick and the like — together with a piano-sized bust of Miss Scarlett.
To me it seems right and proper to drink in as much as you can of the old human panorama, provided you do it discreetly. Bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi concerns an oddball I used to run into about 20 years ago on the Epping line.
We were just pulling out of Strathfield station bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi afternoon, when we heard a blaring cry from the carriage door: The voice in question was distinguished not only bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi its volume, but also its timbre, which bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi the impression that its pent-up energy came forth through clenched teeth.
He was still gibbering when I alighted 15 minutes later. Personally, I found it all quite entertaining, and began to look forward to his Monday appearances. He only surfaced on Mondays. Luckily, he was as much a creature of habit as I was, and always boarded the same carriage. My only personal contact — one-sided though it was, since I declined his patently earnest offer of conversation — took place one day when he plumped down on arrival in the seat in front of me and immediately turned round with a frightful leer to deliver his grotesque refrain.
On another occasion he hurled a rolled-up newspaper across the line at West Ryde, aiming at the afternoon commuters on the opposite platform. This time it was maniacal laughter echoing down the corridor. As a rule, though, his outbursts were not addressed to anyone in particular.
This was fortunate, for that particular carriage seemed always to carry a number of solid, sober looking men depressed stockbrokers, no doubtany of whom if so accosted could have given quite an energetic and effective account of himself. Even so, his main expectation of a reply seemed to be of males, though he did once bellow horribly at a young woman fraught with imminent child, who, had she been made of less sterner stuff, might well have caused a headline-making disturbance of her own.
What ultimately became of him? Did he do more harm than good, and get placed in restrictive care? Maybe he patronises the Liverpool line instead — or the Manly ferry? My magnolia tree is going mad!
Much more than surprise their blithe presence is a kind of offering. Brave community of innocents in the shelter of each other they cluster in their peace. Nothing startles them or stains their gentle rush to radiance. Only vagrant winds soft and rough ruffle their feathered joy, enticing whispers of call and restlessness so tender flight seems imminent and my need clear: Yet all is hover and hold, time and birds fold wings and the only flight is fall: The world and I need such madness.
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
My name is only an anagram of toilets. I think it would be a very good idea. What contemptible scoundrel stole the cork from my lunch? The young composer William Walton arrived at Oxford University inaged 16, and not long after was taken under the wing of the Sitwell clan Edith, Osbert and Sacheverellwho adopted him as an honorary brother. The Sitwells were perhaps the most famous literary family of the time, though certainly not popular with everyone. Just imagine that first performance.
There was the year-old author herself, unseen by the audience, declaiming her poems through a megaphone protruding from the mouth of a huge head painted on a curtain, which also concealed the seven band members.
All her life Edith Sitwell was notorious for her provocative eccentricities, in her dress as well as her writing. If she was interested in things odd, she used them either to express herself or else as subjects for amused reflection just because they pleased her. Since then there have been at least five other editions, including a Penguin one inthose from having additional chapters, and no definite article in the title.
In the work inspired an opera in two acts by expatriate Australian composer Malcolm Williamson, with a libretto by Geoffrey Dunn. But it was not to be. What delights her interest, and appeals enormously to my own evil sense of humour, is a series of maverick vignettes from much earlier times. At Squire John Mytton b. Luckily he only tried this on the one occasion, unlike his equestrian stunts, where he was regularly a rampant menace not only to his horses, but to his friends and acquaintances too, especially if they were rash enough to ride in his carriage.
Then there were the bizarre goings-on with the century-old coffin of poet John Milton. And what about Monsieur Grin? He was a Swiss adventurer of the late nineteenth century who passed himself off in London as Louis de Rougement, a one-time cannibal chief from northern Australia. This involved him, not only killing and ripping open the beast, but also crawling inside the still warm carcase in order to cure himself of a chill. Sitwell devotes sustained thoroughness to the picturesque custom of the Ornamental Hermit.
Apparently country squires in centuries past were so keen on bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi idea of having a hermit to grace their estates that that they used to advertise in the press, and even offered purpose-built retreats the less comfortable the better for their bearded dodderers.
Flowing white beards, of course, were essential attributes of a fashionable recluse, as were long finger- and toenails and absurd clothes. Few took any heed, however, and some volunteers were even content to occupy a hermitage unpaid.
And on it goes with our English odd bods. There are inane follies galore to be enjoyed, not the least of which is the delightful gem that portrays the ludicrous medical aftermath of a failed amateur attempt at a remedy for flatulence. A certain seventeenth century physician one Sir Charles Hall did find himself. At first, the prescription acted admirably, and Mr Gobsill was, in the due course of nature, delivered of both pebbles and wind; but some time afterwards the wind returned to him, and Mr Gobsill returned to the pebbles, and both wind and pebbles clung to Mr Gobsill and would not be parted from him.
Mr Gobsill concluded, very naturally, that the best plan would be to repeat the bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi, and this he did, until, instead of the original dose of nine pebbles, he had swallowed two hundred. He therefore consulted Sir Charles who, on examining the patient, found that if Mr Gobsill were severely shaken, the stones could be heard rattling as if they were in a bag.
For example, people, events, places, TV and radio programmes are frequently referred to in an Aussie context. The same applies to dates: Having failed to make enough to live on from music, however, Tony was soon forced to eke out a layabout existence supported by his friends and an occasional stint as a cleaner and bookstore salesman. Eventually, bot nghe tron voi sua chua co tac dung gi sort of common sense prevailed, and in he took a position at the State Library of NSW, where he remained in dubiously gainful employment for the next ten years.
During that time, however, he had got bitten by the computing bug, and it was in the data processing field that he spent the rest of his so-called working life.
