Journal Entries
Thank you Douglas
Posted May 14, 2001
When Peta told me the news I was numb with shock, and even now part of me still has trouble accepting that you have gone.
I borrowed and never returned the only copy of the HHGttG from my school library. I feel so guilty. Later I bought the radio series. At all the difficult times of my life, Arthur et al have been there to make me laugh. When my beloved Grandfather died, my brother and I played the text based HHGttG computer game to death cos it numbed the pain a little. For this and for your sparkling creativity we among millions of others will be eternally grateful.
Thank you for all you wrote. To say the world is a poorer place is a cliche but has also never been so true. Most of all thank you for h2g2, which truly has shaped and changed my life in ways I cannot begin to describe.
Your family are in my thoughts.
with fondest memories
Abi
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Latest reply: May 14, 2001
News from the Rodent Collective
Posted May 4, 2001
It is with great sadness that I have to bring you news of the Rodent Collective.
Unfortunately, two members have gone to the great Cheese in the sky. Massey Ferguson, my African Harvest mouse, plummeted to his death during a brave Escape from Colditz style break for freedom. Ah well. At least it was quick. I had no chance of getting him back being so small and frankly his chances of surviving a five foot fall onto concrete were so thin. I could only watch in horror. I then walked into the house and announced to the assembled masses that I had killed the mouse (not strictly true but if I had checked where he was in the travel cage before I opened it he would never have escaped in the first place). He was buried at Sunset with full military honours.
Moët too has unfortunately passed the way of all flesh. Which just goes to prove the best laid plans of mice and Deputy Community Editors rarely come to fruition. Chandon has gone a bit demented with grief but hopefully she will settle down soon.
So i have two new members of the collective to unveil. Wellington and Nelson are two very smelly boys who are grey with white markings and white bellies. They have prodigious whiskers into the bargain. Did I mention they stink to high heaven? 
Bless their little twitchy noses.
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Latest reply: May 4, 2001
Right that's it!
Posted Apr 9, 2001
I am outta here. Love you all dearly but I need a break. No more discussing m... those things Peta has banned me from even mentioning. No more having to listen to politics. No more justifying the running of the Grand National to people who think that NH horses should race on good ground (Heavy ground is safer, they go slower and jump more carefully!!).
Just me, a jug of sangria, a lilo, a pool and a good book!
Bring it on!
And when I get back... I really must sort out that bombshell!
Now in the words of a field master I once knew; "Gone away!!"
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Latest reply: Apr 9, 2001
long time no type
Posted Apr 6, 2001
I have just noticed that it is over 3 months since I wrote a journal entry and so I have decided to amend that immediately.
I have killed off all but three of the office sea monkeys. Don't ask me how I did it... but I managed it somehow. They just all got sick and died and I have yet to work out how to get all the little corpses out of the bottom of the aquarium type thing. The good news is that one of the survivors appears to be carrying eggs. So fingers crossed...
Other then that I am preparing to go on holiday and desperately planning how I can pack everything I have got to do into one weekend. High up on the list must be taking the Morris Minor out as it hasn't had a run in weeks. Mainly because I was away last weekend, the weekend before Mum's company car broke down in the drive and I have been too knackered in the evenings. But I must say that when we are out together, it does look soooo good that everyone stops and stares! 
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Latest reply: Apr 6, 2001
Words to ponder
Posted Jan 15, 2001
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lighting they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
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Latest reply: Jan 15, 2001
Abi
Researcher U281
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