#welder pub

[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

[vividracing]

New Post has been published on https://www.vividracing.com/blog/top-5-best-lift-leveling-kits-for-the-toyota-tundra-22/

Top 5 Best Lift & Leveling Kits for the Toyota Tundra '22+

The 3rd Generation Toyota Tundra ’22+ is a full-sized pickup that appeals to the enthusiasts who love tough and powerful trucks. This pickup truck is pretty sturdy, and extremely capable whether in street driving or off-road adventures, on top of that, it carries the signature Toyota characteristics like durability and reliability, which enthusiasts have come to appreciate from the brand. Being tough, the 22+ Toyota Tundra is the best candidate for a leveling and lift kit upgrade as they increase wheel travel, improve the truck’s aesthetic, and also the ground clearance for off-road adventures and makes it easier to fit larger tires. Leveling kits levels the front end with the back end while a lift kit is more dramatic and involved than a leveling kit.

Before we dive into the juicy stuff, we want to make a clear recommendation. With any additional lift or leveling kit over 2 inches to your Tundra, we recommend upgrading your upper control arms (also known as UCAs). Now, I hear ya, this is not a cheap recommendation, and it may seem like I’m trying to pull a fast one on ya’, but I certainly am not. You will thank me later for this. Have you ever had that friend who just got a new suspension kit for their truck and it looks so bada** sitting in the pub parking lot? Then when they drive away, everything is squeaking more than your grandma’s cabinet doors… Chances are they didn’t upgrade their upper control arms and those joints are under extreme stress from the new working angles of the suspension kinematics.

With that being said, anything more 2.5 inches, UCAs are a MUST, but we highly encourage you to do upgrades the right way and swap them out for a off-road focused UCA.

Shop All Upper Control Arm for the 3rd Gen. Toyota Tundra

Now let’s dive into the top 5 best lift and leveling kits for the 3rd generation Toyota Tundra!

Camburg King 3.0 IBP Performance Kit w/ Adjustable Billet Aluminum Upper Control Arms Toyota Tundra 2WD | 4WD 2022-2023

Manufactured with features that address stock upper arms limitations, the King 3.0 IBP was constructed by taking into consideration all the positive aspects of the King 2.5 kit. This new and improved version is guaranteed to improve the ride and handling both on-road, and offroad, it is for this reason that this is our first recommendation for you

Kit Includes:

King 3.0 IBP Remote Coilovers w/ Compression Adj. (33700-396A)

Camburg Upper Control Arms (Options: Billet CAM-310189 | Uniball w/ Covers CAM-310197)

King 3.0 IBP Remote Rear Shocks w/ Compression Adj. (33700-397A)

Features:

Improved ride both on and off-road

Eliminates weak upper ball-joint

35% increased wheel travel

Corrected suspension geometry

Made in the USA

Baja Kits +3″ Long Travel Prerunner Kit Toyota Tundra 2022+

Made by Baja Kits, this kit will lift your pickup truck from 3 – 4″. We recommend this kit by Baja Kits, as we know that it was constructed by highly-skilled designers and welders, using cutting-edge technology so we know it is guaranteed to exceed even some highest standards.

Kit Includes:

Billet Upper Arms

Billet Aluminum Arm Anodized with laser etched logo

3/4 Adjustable rod ends on the inner pivots

Trophy Truck Grade 1″ uniballs

Heat Treat Stainless Steel Countersunk Top Misaligns & 12 point bolts

Heat Treat Stainless Steel Tapered Misalign Adapters

Boxed Lower Arms

Baja Kits Badges & Rivets

Delrin Bushings

Crush Sleeves

Zerk fittings

1″ Uniballs

Heat Treat Stainless Steel Countersunk Top Misaligns & 12 point bolts

Heat Treat Stainless Steel Tapered Misalign Adapters

Shock Bolts and Nuts

Features:

CAD designed Billet UCA and Boxed LCA Trophy Truck grade Delrin bushings with grease fittings for industry leading durabilty and a quiet, no squeak ride

1″ Hi angle Trophy Truck grade uniball’s replace the weak stock ball joints that fail under high angles and loads seen from normal offroad use

Our CNC machined corrosion resistant misaligns have a tapered snout to adapt your stock upright/spindle with ease

We’ve increased the caster angle that you lose when lifting a truck with stock arms to regain on road stability, handling and alignment

ICON 22-23 Toyota Tundra 1.25-3.25″ Lift Stage 4 3.0 Suspension System Billet

We recommend this kit because of its stellar features which guarantee improved on- and off-road performance with adjustable compression damping, as well as improved alignment specs and increased front-end lift height range for a proper stance and fitment of up to 35″ tires. A good example of the features is the CDEV and ICON Intelligent control (IIC) for in vehicle, active compression damping adjustment, which sets this kit apart from the rest

Features:

Vehicle specific design for 2022-2023 Toyota Tundra

3.0 Series front coilovers with ICON’s multi-stage, tunable hydraulic “Bump Zone”

Adjustable front ride heights from 1.25-3.25″ of front lift over stock when used with included billet aluminum UCAs

ICON’s CDE Valve technology allows for in vehicle adjustment of compression damping settings and active adjustment via the ICON

Intelligent Control (IIC)

ICON Intelligent Control (IIC) uses onboard sensors to monitor G-forces and movement of vehicle chassis along with user defined settings to actively make near instantaneous compression damping changes

Billet aluminum UCAs for added strength, durability, and on-vehicle caster/camber adjustment for optimum drivability UCAs feature the patented (U.S. Pat. 10,731,700) Delta Joint Pro with 90 degrees of total articulation

Billet aluminum UCAs for added strength, durability, and on-vehicle caster/camber adjustment for optimum drivability

UCAs feature the patented (U.S. Pat. 10,731,700) Delta Joint Pro with 90 degrees of total articulation

Included sway bar drop brackets reduce bind in OE sway bar links

Allows for up to 40% increase in front wheel travel over stock without overstressing OE components

Billet rear upper and lower links improve rear end articulation and allow for on-vehicle pinion angle adjustment

2.5 Aluminum Series rear remote reservoir shocks provide increased performance, 20% increase in wheel travel, and balanced tune with coilovers

All ICON shock absorbers are fully rebuildable and re-tunable

Specifications:Included sway bar drop brackets reduce bind in OE sway bar links Allows for up to 40% increase in front wheel travel over stock without overstressing OE components

Billet rear upper and lower links improve rear end articulation and allow for on-vehicle pinion angle adjustment

2.5 Aluminum Series rear remote reservoir shocks provide increased performance, 20% increase in wheel travel, and balanced tune with coilovers

All ICON shock absorbers are fully rebuildable and re-tunable

ICON 22-23 Toyota Tundra 1.25-2.25″ Lift Stage 3 2.5 Suspension System

We also recommend this ICON Vehicle Dynamics Stage 3 complete suspension system for the 2022-2023 Toyota Tundra. This system guarantees an improved on- and off-road performance as well as adjustable front-end lift and leveling for a proper stance and fitment of up to 35″ tires. You will be happy to know that this system provides an adjustable front ride heights from 1.25-2.25″ of front lift over stock when used with stock UCAs, no wonder it made the list

Features:

Vehicle specific design for 2022-2023 Toyota Tundra

2.5 Series front coilovers with internal reservoirs for superior damping and vehicle control

Adjustable front ride heights from 1.25-2.25″ of front lift over stock when used with stock UCAs

Included sway bar drop brackets reduce bind in OE sway bar links

Allows for up to 40% increase in front wheel travel over stock without overstressing OE components

2.0 Aluminum Series rear shocks provide balanced tune with coilovers and increased performance

All ICON shock absorbers are fully rebuildable and re-tunable

100% Bolt-on system – no drilling, cutting, or welding necessary for install

aFe POWER Control 1.875″ Leveling Kit Toyota Tundra V6 3.5L (tt) 2022-2023

Last but not least in today’s list, we recommend this kit by aFe, it’s obvious that this list wouldn’t be legit without a product from this brand. The brand has a reputation for making some of the best products in the aftermarket industry, and their leveling kits are made from 6061 billet aluminum for strength and durability. On top of that the kit provides a 1.875-Inch lift in the front to provide better off-road performance while also eliminating the “nose-down rake” notorious on stock trucks.

Features:

1.875″ Front Lift

CNC Machined 6061 Billet Aluminum

High Strength Hardware

Red Anodized Finish

Increases Front Ground Clearance

Easy bolt-on installation, requires no modifications

Does not fit vehicles equipped with AVS option

Shop All Toyota Tundra Mods & Upgrades

[cgvijesti]

Đukanović u noćnom provodu: "Da budete najjači, da samo pobjeđujete" (VIDEO)

Đukanović u noćnom provodu: “Da budete najjači, da samo pobjeđujete” (VIDEO)

Predsjednik Milo Đukanović snimljen je tokom noćnog provoda. Na sminku koji objavljuje portal Dan jasno se vidi kako predsjednik Crne Gore uživa u provodu u podgoričkom noćnom klubu Welder Pub, srdačno pozdravljajući se sa Indirom Levak, nekadašnom članicom grupe Colonia. Đukanović je u jednom trenutku Indiri naručio pjesmu, a ona mu je poručila „Da budete najjači na svijetu, da samo…

[james-winston]

My dad died a few weeks ago and I thought I'd share a few of my favourite stories about him. Please feel free to re-tell these as, "my friend's dad..." - he was a great storyteller and would be thrilled at having an international audience.

[Also, as fun as it is to imagine your faces reading these without the warning, it's important to preface these stories by saying that he grew up in Northern Ireland during the troubles.]

• He was one of 14 children, 12 boys and 2 girls, and all the brothers look the same - broad, tall, dark haired, big Irish heads.

• Unlike most of his brothers he was quite shy and quiet, afraid of getting into trouble. His brothers knew this, so when the troubles began they kept him fairly out of it. My da was often lifted off the street by the British army or the RUC because, as I said, he looked almost identical to his brothers, who were very much NOT afraid of getting into trouble.

• He was once brought in for questioning in relation to something they thought his brothers had done, and he immediately told the police everything. He felt awful and told his brothers, who said, "Ah don't worry Gerry, we knew ye would tell, that’s why we always lie to ye."

• He moved to Dublin with one brother to find work. My da got work as a builder, and his brother got work robbing banks. He came home one night with about half a million punts (euros) and my da left Dublin the next day because he couldn't handle the stress of just knowing the money was in the flat.

• This is the same brother who "stumbled upon" a set of Canadian cheques and gave them to people all over the city to cash in, and he would give them a cut. (This was back in the 70's, so it was weeks before the cheques would bounce idk how it works. Also there was some legal loophole he exploited because he was eventually caught and released.) Anyway, in his first trial run he dressed my da up as a priest and sent him into a bank to cash the cheque so if it went wrong they wouldn't expect fraud. They accepted the cheque no problem, and then said, "That will take a few weeks to go through, do you need anything to tie you over Father?"

At which point my da panicked and said, "Aye, I -uh, I suppose a wee bit, just to uh-, just to get by."

My da asked for a small, reasonable amount and went back to his brother, whose eyes lit up like Mr. Krabs' and said if my da hadn't been so terrified, and so soaked through with sweat, he'd have had him in every bank in the country doing the same.

• The same brother again who gave my da money for an ice cream van, but, as you may have noticed, my da was a soft touch, and he went out of business OVER THE SUMMER, because he gave free ice cream to the children who couldn't afford it.

• His brothers tried to teach him how to fire a gun, just in case he ever needed it to protect himself, but he kept closing his eyes when he went to pull the trigger so they quickly shelved that idea.

• He dropped out of welder training but moved to London and pretended he was qualified anyway. On his first day he built a frame in the wrong dimensions, panicked, and moved back to Ireland. (We've all made a mistake at work that's left us making plans to leave the country let's be honest.)

• He did one gun run for his brothers in the seventies and threw up when he got home because again, he was terrified.

• Two of his brothers got the rota wrong, and robbed a bookies the night after they'd emptied the tills. As all Irish sons are, they were petrified of their mother's reaction, so they didn't tell her. My da, none the wiser, tells my granny, and she lights into the pair of them when they get back for being so stupid and how could they not know when the tills were being emptied?

• He adored his mother, and he and his brothers used to sit at her feet, even as grown men, having a drink by the fire. Not a wild story, but a nice one.

• He had a hell of an imagination and used to tell us all sorts of lies and ghost stories. Any time we were camping near the mountains he'd tell us about the banshee.

"Can you hear that? I think that’s her scream?"

My ma, also a wuss: "Naw it's the wind because we're halfway up a mountain facing the Atlantic Ocean.”

My da, a perpetual wind up: "Naw children, it's the banshee, my time could be up any minute now, I've heard her."

• As he got older, and after my parents divorced, his health declined and he went to live in a sort of assisted living place, where each resident had their own flat, but there was a shared communal space etc. Anyway, he had a quick eye for a quick temper, and didn't waste time writing fake letters from the landlords to certain tenants, explaining that they'd been barred from the communal area for inappropriate behaviour. He'd then sit back and watch them all kick off at each other and the receptionists demanding to know why they were barred. Little did they know my da had roped the receptionists into it.

• He once worked as a caretaker in a day centre for old people, and he would often "borrow" from the boss that he didn't like when he was cleaning her office. Nothing big, just her pens, her stapler, any nice biscuits. There is home video of us as children following him about and "borrowing from Marie." 

• Another time he went for a walk with a brother who was, unbeknownst to him, on an MI5 watchlist, and whom the British Army were tailing, hoping he would lead them to his weapons stash. Anyway, off they go on their walk, which in Ireland just means taking the scenic route to a pub, where they sat over a few pints. The British army surveilling him have a brain wave and think they've been lead to the secret weapons, because why else would two 20-something Irishmen be in a pub in the early afternoon, and they begin a full raid, smoke bombs, guns, the lot. At which point my da is dragged through the back of the pub, and out a first floor window. Given that we've established his tendency to talk under pressure, when he asked his brother, "what the fuck was all that about?" His brother wisely responded, "haven't a clue Gerry."

• He once went to a dance with one of his brothers, who got very drunk and very offended by some other man. So drunk was he that he couldn't remember which man had said what, so my da told him, but asked him to leave it. So he did, and off the brother went home. Or so my da thought. Half an hour later the brother turns up with a shotgun and starts threatening this guy who'd said something. He fires the gun into the ground by his feet to scare him, but accidentally hits him in the foot, and runs away. Turns out, in the half hour it took for him to get his gun, he'd forgotten what the guy looked like again, and shot the wrong person. The brother and his victim became good friends in the following years. (I don't know how, and my da didn't either, he just said, "awk sure it was a mistake, there was no harm.")

This was a beige imitation of these stories, but I hope they provided some enjoyment. I spent many a happy year listening to these over and over again.

Congratulations on making it to 71 Gerry, we should be so lucky. 🇮🇪

[pensatingbik]

BELTER GRAMMAR: Copulas, Genitives, & Possessives; or “Of being, and being of”

Oye, xunyamwala!

Today we’re tackling two related subjects in how sentences in Belter are constructed. Understanding copulas & genitive/possessive word order in Belter will give students a stronger feel for the language, and how to construct sentences on your own.

COPULAS

A copula is a linking word, usually a form of the verb “to be”. Is, are, was, were, are examples of copulas in English.

Lang belta does not employ a general copula.

Mi da rowmwala, “I (am) the bartender”

Da weltewala xush, “The welder (is) happy/The happy welder”. Can contextually be either

Da Dzhimi ando du rowmwala, “Jimmy (is) bartending”. Lit. “The Jimmy [ongoing aspect] do/make bartender”.

Da Dhzimi ta ando du rowmwala, “Jimmy (was) bartending.” Lit: “The Jimmy [past tense] [ongoing aspect] do/make bartender.”

What Belter does have is the locative copula bi, which is used to indicate where something “is located”.

Milowda bi xom; to na. “We are home; you aren’t” Lit: “Us is (loc) home; you no.”

Da rowmwala bi da kapawu. “The bartender is aboard the ship.” Lit. “The bartender is (loc) the ship”.

Da voyu ta bi Sirish. “The thug was on Ceres”. Lit: “The thug [past tense] is (loc) Ceres”

Serí sésata gonya bi deya. “Three sisters will be there”. Lit: “Three sister [future tense] is (loc) there.”

Kepelésh bi xashiting mi? “Where is my bong/weed pipe/dab rig?” Lit: “What-place is (loc) cannabis/hazard-thing me?”

Possessive/Genitive Construction & Noun Phrases

Belter uses word order to demonstrate a possessive/genitive relationship between a “head noun” and “dependent” nouns/adjectives.

“Possessive” and “genitive” are related concepts which are often used interchangeably in English.

“Possessive” means a relationship of owership by the head noun of dependent. eg John’s books. John owns the books, and/or is the author.

“Genitive” means a relationship that is close/descriptive. Children’s books are not books owned/written by children, but for them..

Belter constructs “noun phrases” which consist of the “head” noun and modifiers The noun phrase as a whole then acts as the subject/object of the sentence.

Determiner/quantifiers/articles come before the word they modify, dependent nouns/adjectives come after the word they modify. The ultimate posessor goes at the end of the noun phrase.

The syntax of Belter noun phrases is:

Determiners/Quantifiers : Head noun : Dependent Nouns/Adjectives : Possesor

mo wang sodzha belta xush. “One more happy Belter soldier”. Lit: more one soldier Belter happy

wa túngeting tubik. “a very big gun” Lit: “A gun too-big”

koyo mi, “my weasel” Lit: weasel (of) me.

tu koyo kemang?, “whose two weasels?” Lit “two weasel (of) who?”

Imbobo rowm, “pub, bar”, aka “rum hole”. Lit: hole (of) rum

ora xush belta imalowda , “their Belter happy hour”. Lit: hour happy Belter (of) them

walowda buk rowmwala OPA ofisha, “a few official OPA Bartender’s manuals”. Lit: some book bartender OPA official

One can also mark the head noun and all the dependents in the noun phrase with the definite article da, indicating they are all part of the same single noun phrase. This pattern is taken from Arabic.

Note that the possessor, while part of the noun phrase, does not get the definite article unless the possessor is also a proper name. Pronouns never get the definite article, people’s names always do.

Sowng da inya, “Sun (is) the inner”. Lit: sun the inner. In this example, because the subject “sowng” does not have the definite article, “da inya” is not part of the subject noun phrase, and is instead the object.

da sowng inya, “the inner’s sun OR the sun (is an) inner”, Lit: the sun inner

da sowng da inya, “the inner sun”, Lit: the sun the inner

da got da tiki da volkang, “The tiki god of the volcano” Lit: The god the tiki the volcano.

da got da ret da tiki da volkang da Dzhimi, “Jimmy’s red tiki god of the volcano”, Lit: the god the tiki the volcano the Jimmy

Da ora da xush da belta da kong. “The next Belter happy hour.” Lit: The hour the happy the belter the next

Da buk da rowmwala da OPA da ofisha, “The official OPA bartender manual” Lit: The book the bartender the OPA the official

Da shapu da Mila “Miller’s hat” Lit: The hat the Miller

In addition, one can make even more complex noun phrases by introducing a subordinate clause via a relative pronoun

Da kasinyo da OPA delowda ta leta-go kowl pish mi. “The OPA casinos which took all my chips” Lit: The casino the OPA those-which [past tense] take-away all chip me

Da shapu da Mila deting kopeng im ta gif fo im “Miller’s hat which his freind gave him” Lit: The hat the Miller which friend him [past tense] give to him

For more on relative pronouns and their use, see “Understanding This, That, Who, Which, What, & The Thing Over Yonder in Lang Belta”

The complexity of Belter noun phrases is why pronouns can be used as a parenthetical to restate/clarify the subject before moving on to the verb.

Fo keng to im gut “Nice to meet you” Lit: To be acquainted with you it (is) good

The intersection of noun phrase syntax and lack of general copula is (IMO) one of the lynchpin features of Belter grammar. Belter grammar being strongly Sub-Verb-Obj, so being able to identify where the subject ends is crucial if there is no copula.

As always, Nick Farmer is the final authority on all things lang belta. His opinion is definitive.

Fing ematim! (“Until soon!”)

[jessesavageblacksmith]

Episode 6 is out with Dave Kurdyla @dkforgeworks We discuss how to make & forge Damascus Steel. Come listen.... You can find us on iTunes , stitcher, or http://theblacksmithspub.com/ @theblacksmithspubpodcast brought to you by The Burn Network , @barter_rick & @blacksmithervic #podcast #blacksmith #welder #metalsmith #blacksmithing #forging #centerformetalarts #damascussteel #pub #metalfab #welder #maker #podcast #stitcher #itunes #bladesmith #bladesmithing

[boop-the-emo-boy]

One of my favourite things I ever learned in school was that my geography teacher was never legally qualified but was still allowed to teach us. When we first met him he would obviously introduce himself and then proceeds to tell us this story. One I can quote to this day. But we'll get to that later. Mr geography man would also stop the class to tell us this story whenever someone would say "god I can't wait to drop out" ect. His story was this;

"When I was a little boy and I had to go to school like yous, (welcome to scottish speech) I had dreams on travelling the world. In fact I wanted to do it so badly, just when I turned 14 and you were able to get a job back then.. I did! I worked as a welder (something to do with metal? Idk) day in day out, I would go to school, come home, go to work, come home and go to sleep. Then I gave in. I dropped out so I could work more and get more money. I spent years there! I Made so many friends who are probably still doing nothing with their lives but that doesn't matter right now. But every Sunday we would to to the pub and then we would talk and drink the night away. But then I decided that I could use all the money I saved to buy a car. She was a crappy little thing, but she worked. I used her for quite some time and one of my friends traded me his car for mine. Of course mine was worse but he wanted to teach his son to drive in it then get the son to drive it and sell her and get a better car! But I dont care about them anymore, they helped and I cant thank 'em enough but not like i can find him anymore. Then I started to travel the world. I bought a house here and there and lived like a king.. or enough that a young king from Manchester could afford while travelling. But then I got offered a job in (i dont remember it's a struggling country) and then they were all so excited to learn, I taught around the world and yet you are all hear thinking about dropping out? If this was back in my day yeah you could drop out no worries but now? Try getting a job at 14/15! If you do I will give you my new car!"

However no matter how many times we heard that story not once did he go back to school to learn.

He taught us and those kids what he learned around the world and what was on the plan!

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 3

Jim laid a hand on her thigh out sight and casual-like. Just a light pressure to let Y/N know he was there for her.

Her entire body tightened, and she darted a glance around the table to see if anyone was watching. Everyone else was far too interested in their conversation and the joint floating around. He leaned over slightly to whisper by her ear. "You know they love you to pieces. It's going to be just fine, angel eyes."

His use of her nickname made her lips twitch. But even more importantly, to his delight she snuck her hand over his, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly in response.

"You two got something on your mind over there?" Chad's question buzzed angrily in Jim's ears.

It was rather amazing how much disapproval could be put into such simple words.

Y/N took a deep breath, but before she could speak Jim decided what the hell. He'd sooner be skinned for the whole disaster, no matter what she'd said before.

"Not a secret," Jim announced. "We're dating."

Other than her quick gasp of shock, there was no response to his comment. Not for a full five seconds. Then an uproar of noise hit from all sides.

"The hell?"

"Since when?"

"Are you serious?"

Over all the questions and cussing lay a deep, heavy rumble, starting low then increasing in volume until Mr. Y/D/L/N's laugh broke through. He waved his sons off. "Calm yourself, boys. You really surprised by this?" He clicked his tongue. "Never thought I’d raised a pack of dullards. I saw this coming from a mile away."

Y/N gave Jim  a dirty look before facing her father.

"What's that mean?"

The older man shrugged. "Means I'd seen you two making calf eyes at each other when you thought no one was looking. About time you came to your senses."

Chad stumbled to vertical, glaring daggers at Jim. "Bullshit. You can't be dating Y/N."

Jim stood to meet him eye to eye across the table. "Not your decision."

"She's still recovering from the accident. She doesn't need to get involved with anyone."

A stream of very creative swearing burst free from a most unexpected source. Jim waited cautiously until Chad looked away before also turning toward Y/N.

She'd stood as well, her much shorter status very clear as everyone loomed over her from where they’d all risen to their feet around the table. The vile language spewing from her mouth stuttered to a stop as she whipped out her finger and stuck it in her oldest brother’s face.

"The accident happened two months ago. I. Bumped. My. Head. That's it. I didn't have a lobotomy or revert to childhood. I've had enough of you wrapping me in cotton and refusing to let me do anything on my own. Yes, I have gaps in my memory, and yes, dealing with that is a pain in the ass. But you, Chad"-she glared around the table to take in all her brothers-"all of you, are even bigger pains. I did not break my brain, or my body. My sex drive did not vanish out the broken window, and I will not allow you, or anyone else, decide what will or won't happen in my life."

Jim wasn't sure the mention of sex was the wisest idea as eyes narrowed further, and fists were clenched. Only he couldn't worry about that because she'd spun her fury toward him.

"And you! You're the biggest pain of them all. I told you I wanted to do this myself. You agreed, and now you just leap in and do exactly the opposite of what I asked for? Damn you." Y/N stepped back from the table, her eyes full of fire as she planted her feet wide and crossed her arms. "Jim and I are not going out," she stated clearly.

Oh, shit. She was more upset by his taking control than he’d expected. He reached for her, but she twisted from his grasp.

"Forget it, Jim. We might be seeing more of each other in the future if you get your head out of your ass, but the only reason will be because you might be the father of my baby."

The question exploded from five male throats at the same moment.

Y/N lifted her chin, cheeks red, her chest heaving. "Yes. I'm pregnant. Jim insists he could be. That's all I'm going to say about this tonight because I'm sick of all of you. Good night."

She twirled on her heel and stomped from the room, the door slamming shut after her. Jim wavered between running after her and staying to explain to the guys.

He never saw it coming. The fist that connected with his jaw made stars burst before his eyes, and he stumbled backward before landing on the floor, five very angry faces staring down at him.

"Shall we bury him alive in the back forty?" Danny asked, wiggling his fingers to shake out the blow he’d delivered. "Hang him in the garage. We can use the welder’s torch and skin him first."

Jim shoved aside the anger inside that wanted to flare like a torch. "Let me explain, dammit."

Chad dragged a hand over his head then gestured his brothers aside. He extended his hand to Jim.

Jim eyed it with distrust.

His friend snorted. "Look, you surprised us all, but I’m not going to beat you any further, and neither will the others."

"Speak for yourself," Alex drawled. "What the hell is going on, Jim?"

"Boys, let him up." Y/D/F/N Y/D/L/N pushed through his sons to cast an unreadable stare upon Jim.

Alex looked disappointed. "Does this mean we're not killing him and hiding the body?"

Y/D/F/N rested a hand on his shoulder. "Not today, but there's still hope for tomorrow."

And with that, Jim sighed in relief. He was going to be forgiven, at least by the guys. ,Y/N on the other hand, was another issue. He'd have to watch his balls around her for the next while.

They all settled around the table, a little uneasy. More awkward than he'd ever felt with the family. "So, now what?" Alex asked.

"That one is easy," Y/D/F/N answered. "Now Jim finds a way to convince Y/N they’re a couple. If she's going to have a baby, she needs all the support she can get."

"So you’d better find a way to convince Y/N she wants you in her life, or else," Chad snapped. Chad's ultimatum pissed Jim off all over.

"There’s nothing I want more." The secret seed of fear inside was shoved down and ignored as Jim went nose to nose with his stubborn best friend. “Did you not listen to what I said about sending you an email, you stupid ass? Did you not hear the part about how I'm the one who came to her before she even told me about the baby?"

"Easy words to say when none of it can be proved."

"Still say we take him outside and work him over,"  Alex muttered.

"Shut up, all of you." Mr. Y/D/L/N didn’t shout. Didn't storm, but his intensely spoken comment quelled all four of his sons. "Stop poking at Jim. He knows what he did was wrong, and if my baby girl is going to have a man in her life, I like Jim."

Warmth rushed him at the man’s words of acceptance. "Thank you, sir."

Y/D/F/N turned toward him with ice in the depths of his purple eyes. "You hurt her again, though, and I'll shoot you myself."

Ahh, family. Jim straightened up and wondered if he was going to survive.

Remembering the expression of fury in Y/N's eyes, he just might be better off dealing with the guys.

*********************************************

Y/N pulled herself alert. She was only a moment away from sliding into a puddle of relaxation in the overstuffed easy chair, tired from her week and everything that had been going on.

Medina had plopped herself on the floor to apply a new layer of polish to Y/N's toes. Instead of Friday night at the pub, Medina had suggested a girls’ home spa. The laid-back evening was so much better than fighting the noise and the crowds. Y/N was in heaven.

"Skipping away from the baby talk for a minute." Heather leaned forward on her elbows. "Tell me to butt out if you're not sharing, but what's this I hear about Jim.Mason basically camping out in your front yard?"

Y/N wasn't sure if she was pissed off or pleased with his relentless attention. "I laid down the law about two weeks ago, and ever since he's been trying to get back in my good books."

"Is it working?" Medina snorted. "Jim has not yet perfected the art of the grovel, we'll just put it that way."

"Hmm." Cami and Annisa, two more of Y/N's friends, exchanged glances. "A good grovel is always nice,”  Cami admitted.

"Followed by make-up sex, right?" Annisa grinned. "So, what’s he not doing right? Not being determined enough?"

Y/N stopped to think for a minute. Jim had been persistent-that much was in his favor. "I don’t think he understands what he did wrong in the first place."

"Of course he doesn’t." Heather grabbed a pitcher and topped up her drink. "He’s a guy. The words 'I was wrong' kind of stick in their throats and end up coming out as 'Get over it, little woman, I know best.'

A snort escaped before Y/N could stop it. "Yeah, that’s about the entire story."

"So, all he needs to do is say he was wrong?" Medina tilted her head to the side. "I would have thought this situation required more than that."

"Oh, 'I was wrong' would be the first step," Y/N agreed. "But until he figures out that this is my life, I'm not letting him back in. It's bad enough with my brothers wanting to make decisions for me."

"And you don’t need another big brother, right?" Ava winked at her. "I know you probably hate getting asked, but how are you feeling?"

"Much better,” Y/N admitted happily. "Morning sickness is done. Lots of energy. I haven’t got back my memory, but I have progressed in my math beyond two plus two is four."

"Hmm, too bad you have no memory of sexing it up with Jim." Cami waggled her brows. "I bet he’s got some moves."

"I can’t believe sex with Jim wasn’t memorable enough to stay in your brain no matter what. I mean, do you think he's got a teeny penis or something, and your mind is trying to wipe that out?"

"Not the size of the equipment, it’s how well they use it," Annisa quipped innocently, batting her lashes at the laughter that rose from the other women. "Well, that’s what they say, right?"

"No, I doubt Jim is lacking penis power. Unless he's shoving socks into his jock strap, the guy's got the goods."

Like a barometer, Y/N’s cheeks had responded to the chatter. She didn't really want to speculate on Jim's... equipment. "Sorry. Memory loss doesn’t pick and choose to save the juicier tidbits for repeat consumption. We'll have to stick with 'I don't remember’ on this one."

Laughter exploded, and Y/N relaxed back into her happy haze of food and friends. It wasn't the size of Jim's equipment that interested her -well, okay, not completely. But if she remembered the act, she'd know for sure who was involved in making the baby in her belly. She slipped her hands over the slight bulge beginning to show and wished again for a miracle, like total recall. It didn't come, but the friendship and warmth around her helped. Helped a lot.

The next morning Jim shifted uneasily on his feet and waited for Y/N to answer his knock. It was just past ten. Late enough she would have had time to sleep in a little and dress, because he didn't need any temptation to mess this up.

It sort of worked. She was awake. The woman who pulled the door open had bright eyes and a rested face; only she was still wrapped in a mass of soft terry cloth. Her robe ended at mid-thigh, and Jim snapped his gaze back up to safer territory.

He swallowed hard. "Hi."

She lifted one brow in a perfect Vulcan imitation. "Hi." Jim paused. "How you doing?"

Y/N nodded. "Good."

Ah, fuck it. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I was an ass, and I had no right to butt in and go around your wishes."

She opened the door all the way and they headed towards the kitchen. She watched with a bemused attitude from where she’d pushed herself up to sit on the counter. "What are you doing, Jim?"

"Apologizing." He lifted his glass to her. "Trying to find a way to truly be there for you and make up for my stupid move at dinner a while back."

Y/N lifted her hand to touch his jaw where the final tinge of a bruise was slowly fading. "You got worked over by my brothers that night. I'm sorry for leaving you to them."

Jim stood stock-still as her soft fingers caressed his cheek. "I blew it more ways than one that night."

"You did." She patted his cheek gently then leaned forward to whisper, “But I'm ready to forgive you. Only for heaven's sake, stop acting like some ball-less dweeb."

Jim couldn't help but to laugh. "That's blunt."

Y/N shrugged. "It’s the new Y/N-I tend to speak my mind a little sooner. So here’s the deal. You will not fuck up and go against my express wishes, and I'll stop my brothers from beating on you."

Jim nodded. "And you'll let me get involved in your life; however it will help you the most. Whether that’s getting things ready for the baby's arrival, or being there to rub your feet or ..." He'd spotted the circle on the calendar on the wall. "Or going to prenatal visits with you."

She hesitated. "I don't know how I feel about that."

"That’s not true." Jim laid a hand over hers where it rested on the counter. "Come on, new Y/N, tell me what's racing through your mind."

She stared down at their fingers. "I'm afraid to let you in, I'm afraid to have you around and then have you taken off down the road." Her head lifted and those beautiful eyes stared into his soul. "I want you to be there for more than just the baby."

Jim stroked her fingers lightly. "I’m here. In spite of your fears." In spite of his own. "I wanted you before the baby was in the picture, and I'll want you no matter what." That much he could say with full and complete honesty.

The moment hung between them. Anticipation and longing right there. All his concerns and worries were overwhelmed by the need to have Y/N make the decision for him. To be with him, and give him a chance. Even though her accepting him would open up a world of nightmares-facing those would be worth it. Had to be worth it. He'd chosen to be a better man than his father, and this was the place that he made his stand.

Y/N moved so slowly, but finally she did move. Leaned toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. He slipped up a hand to brush the inch-long hair over her scalp, the softness against his palm like satin.

She leaned away. "Okay."

His heart raced like an out-of-control train. "Okay?"

She nodded. "You can come to the prenatal with me. And you can do some stuff around here, to help get things ready for the baby."

Jim waited, then got tired of waiting. "And us?" He demanded.

Her tongue snuck out quickly as she moistened her lips. "Well, I suppose we could start seeing each other."

He wanted to toss his fist into the air and shout, but that might freak her out. So instead he picked her up and twirled her. Hugging her close as she laughed. "Put me down, silly."

Jim lowered her carefully, reluctant to allow her warm, soft body to leave contact with his. "Does that mean we can go on a date?"

"Yes." She got an evil look in her eyes. He lowered himself onto the open space next to her, leaving room between them. There would be time to make a move on the physical side of things soon enough, now that she was letting him in. Letting him have a chance to do the right thing, and more.

She leaned back, the sunshine in the window making her soft and edible, and incredibly beautiful. "You have any plans for the day?"

"You are my plans."

Her smile bloomed, and Jim's heart swelled a little. It wasn’t what he’d expected to be doing, but in the big scheme of things-it was right.

@michael-langdon-appreciation

Credit to @carolthors

[summervanlife]

09 July

Before we start on today, a few notes about the pub last night: Loch Erisort Inn is owned by a really lovely old lady who also does the cooking. There was a bar staff and waiter. The place was very old and appeared to be in need of a serious overhaul. The smell of cigar smoke was still ingrained in the carpet and soft furnishings and mixed with a musty damp scent. There was a fire in the corner and a pleasant atmosphere which overpowered the odour. There were photos of naked men on the wall. Yep, naked men! Crofters to be precise. Their dignity preserved by single bricks of peat. Clare studied the photos, in admiration, or something, for quite a while. The crofters had produced a calendar to raise money for charity. The large presentation cheque, made out for £21000, demonstrated how much 'exposure' the men had achieved. In addition to the photos were dead things. Stag heads, buffalo horns, a turtle, gaping sharks mouth, dolphin skull and vertebrae and most curious was a 20ft python skin nailed along the wall! At 2000hr we were ushered into the dinning room, it felt a bit like we were in a episode of Fawlty Towers! The meal was good and this eccentric pub had a charm which was lovely - though our clothes do all smell of a cross between old men and charity shops now! The night was stormy and rain fell hard throughout. The strap we had used to hold up the bike rack had been cranked up as tight as we could achieve by lifting the bike rack as a lever and tensioning the strap. This meant that it was drum-head tight and every drop of rain falling onto it sounded like someone was plucking at a bass guitar. When Jay woke at 0300hr it drove him to distraction thinking about the forces being impacted on the steel roof bar. With every note a new wave of anxiety coursed through Jay. Images of a bent bar wouldn't abate. We had to sort this weld in the morning. The rain stopped at 0830hr long enough to convert and wave thank you to Mrs Fawlty. Then we headed for Stornoway - the largest town in the Outer Hebrides. We asked the advice of a man fuelling his van at a petrol station. He looked like the sort of man who might know where one would locate a welding service. Sure enough he gave us directions to the industrial estate. We made our way there, and then, like prowling kerb crawlers, began eyeing up the possibilities. The best lead was a cagey mechanic, who never took his cigarette from his lips to speak (tricky to decipher the thick Hebridean accent at the best of times). Jay thinks he said that he might have been able to look at it the following day. We kept looking. Another potential was a huge workshop called Norries. There were about 5 mechanics milling around not doing much. Jay was approached and explained the problem, the guy said we would need to speak with the boss who wouldn't be long. The guy asked Jay to park on the road alongside some bins out of the way. We waited, and waited. In end a Polish guy from the workshop came and gave Jay a ticking off for parking in front of the bins on bin day. That was enough, this place had bad vibes and people were being unhelpful. We vacated. The remainder of the garages we could find on the estate could not help; either too busy or non-welders. We took one last cruise down mechanic alley before submitting to Captain Nicotine tomorrow. A red van in front of us blocked our way in front of the Norries. We watched a mechanic chat with the driver, the conversation ended with "By the way, the guy in the white van behind wants a word with you". The red van pulled over, so did we. A rough looking guy with deep scars under his left eye got out, Jay met him in the middle of the road trying not to be scared! Jay discovered he was the boss, he was Norrie. Jay explained the problem. Norrie disappeared into the workshop and sent Kenny. Kenny was the nicest and most helpful mechanic since our last towbar hero in Northumberland. We took off the bikes and the rack. Kenny jacked up the towbar to try and get it back to the correct position, then between him and Jay they crowbarred the bumper as high as possible in order access the broken weld and clean the metal. Then Kenny brought out his mig welder and started adding steel. After asking nicely, he then added some more. By the time he finished we had thick fillets of steel on all sides. Our new hero. We were there for about 45 mins. The charge for mending our van and our trip - £20!! We couldn't believe it. Jay gave Kenny an extra £10 for being a legend. We loaded the bikes and were on our way. Thanks Norrie. It was 1230hr, hopes of today's bike ride were dashed. But we were in a big town and had some laundry and shopping to do. The tourist info did the job and we found our way to the laundrette. With a load in and a cafe next door, lunch was called. On reflection we now know that ordering Chinese food would have been a better option, but Jay had a hankering for beans on toast and everyone else just jumped on board. Trying to describe beans on toast to the non-English speaking, oriental staff cooking a full menu of Chinese food was tricky. We ended up with cheese toasties and a side portion of beans - perfect! By the time we were fed the washing was done. Off to a supermarket. Clare and Nia did the trolley work, Jay and Cian went in search of ratchet straps (we were going to back up the new weld to the roof bars which, in turn, will be backed up to one another - should be grand.) Jay and Cian found an auto spares shop which actually turned out to be a garage workshop as well. He couldn't help us with straps, but did make up number plates. Result! We would be back. Turning up a street, the boys found a 'sell everything' shop - sure enough they had our straps. We paid, got the van and went back to number plate man, ordered them and then mentioned the power steering fluid leak. He said he'd have a look and to return in half an hour. It takes a while to do our big grocery shop, so Jay and Cian left the girls to it and took a walk down to the harbour. We were able to tick off a few of Nia's art trail installations on our walk: herring lady bronze statue, the post ship (an exact footprint of a steamer that ran aground leaving only 28 survivors out of 180 soldiers returning from WW1 - unfair.), and wooden seals. When we returned to the workshop the van was parked on the pavement, Nia and Clare were stowing our new supplies. We had a new number plate. Jay went to see the man. Unfortunately it was only mediocre news. The seal was leaking on the power steering ram. This had leaked oil into the rack gasket and expanded it like a swelling balloon until it burst. At some point we must have left quite an oil slick! The fix was nothing less than a replacement steering rack! His advice was simple "just manage the oil loss" in other words - just keep topping up the oil. Easy! Number plate and advice - £15. Thank you. We sat in the van and counted our blessings. Then refuelled; bought some more oil and went to find somewhere to cook egg curry. An old road on the way back west helped us out. It was lovely to be back in the wilderness and alone. A loch below us was full of birds. The rain had stopped, the wind was still. We cooked the curry and installed the new straps. Both reaped good results but the egg curry won - hands down. Clare dug morning poo holes while Nia, Cian and Jay kicked a football! Teeth, tick checks, change and then Eragon.

[demoncryptspanties]

Marksman

 PT 2

part 1, masterlist

A/N I was going to make this super long but thought it would better to keep it short so there are one or two parts after this

Warnings: swearing again, shitty writing and spelling errors.

The day was pretty much uneventful with the amount of chaos and testosterone I was surprised when I was able to leave without having to fire a shot or give a warning. I watched the rest of the girls close up and rubbed my face a few times. My boobs hurt a goddamn lot I don't think I can take a whole day like this again.

"Y/N we are all having tea at Polly's if you want to join us," Ada said as we began to walk out.

"Yeah, I would love that." I smiled back at her.

Our journey was in mostly silence, people stayed out of our way apparently the whole family now had a pretty big reputation and we got home without anyone stopping to make conversation.

Polly put the kettle on once we entered the house and we took our seats. "So Y/N tell us about London we would love to know," Lizzie said once we settled.

"Well I moved there with my sister, she worked in a bakery and I worked as a welder. I didn't meet anyone, she met another preacher actually and they married this year. It was pretty uneventful in London but very different from Birmingham." I explained.

"Is that so?" Polly said with a hint of a smirk on her face. " You didn't meet anyone at all after all these years, with someone like you that's hard to believe."

"Well believe it, everyone there was a little boring," I replied. Everyone shuffled a little with knowing smirks on their faces, including Lizzie and Esme. We soon settled into easy chatter mostly about the differences between here and London, a few things about the boys and how they've grown among other things.

The night soon hit its peak and everyone's men came to pick them up, all voting to hover outside the house until it became just me and Polly. "I should probably get going, it's late and I don't want to run into trouble," I said gathering my possessions.

Polly gave me a quick goodbye consisting of a tight hug and quickly ushered me out of the house. I began my journey home thinking of the events of the two days I had worked for Tommy and what I had found out in this time. My feelings for Tommy, although I hardly see them are very prominent and the rest of my life is gonna be absolute bullshit because of it.

The next day and couple of months were rather uneventful. I did my job, found a better way to tie my boobs, avoided the pub (I probably won't be able to do that again, my mum's been sick enough times now) and successfully avoided Tommy for the most part.

The day started as normal, I made my way to work, sat on my table and waited to see whether I would have to shoot someone today. That is until Tommy stormed through dragging Polly in the back and motioning me to join him. I obliged and closed the door to the back office.

"London, tell me about London." He asked.

"I..what do you want to...what about London." I stuttered.

"I need to expand, I've been trying too for over a month and now I have to pick who I want to make an enemy out of." He stated.

"What are your options?" I asked timidly moving closer to the desk.

"Sabini or Solomon's. Right now from what I know Sabini has more men so Solomon's it looks like."

I approached him slowly before explain " personally, having run-ins with both think that Solomon's would be the better option. You haven't met him, he's not a man to make an enemy out of. Also, my sister use to work there, might give you an upper hand."

He nodded and said "fine I'll take your word for it, but if this fucks itself over it's on you. And you're coming with me to the meeting."

Tommy left after that and the rest of the day went without issues but now I had another problem. I had met Solomon's on a lot of occasions and the guy is more than observant. There's only hope that he won't reveal and or kill me thinking this is some sort of mockery or betrayal.

Half a month later after some trouble with Tommy, he decided it was time to get this expansion going. I was in the top ranks and I'm assuming Tommy trusts me as much as he does well I'm not sure, he either trusts you or he doesn't. We his on the boat until we got out of Birmingham and then got off the boat when we reached Camden town.

"Jacob tell me about Solomon's, what's he like and that." He asked after a slight walk in silence.

"There's not much to say. He's Jewish, and not exactly right in the head and yeah that's about it." I replied

"Anything to say, not to say or whatever."

"No, he'll find a way to twist anything you say but I still think you should meet him alone."

"No, I'll talk to him alone but you said he met you, your my insurance my way in."

I sighed and turned a corner leading to the front of the 'bakery'. I gave a wave to Ollie who looked very confused for a second before leading us in. This was it.

"Y/N You look like a fucking boy," Ollie whispered into my ear.

"Well yeah, I know that I didn't expect you to recognise me so easily," I whispered shouted.

"Well you only look slightly different, you used to come here with your sister all the time you think I wouldn't recognise you. Fuck, the boss." Ollie sped walk towards the office before a man walked out with a slight limp. Everyone shut up until after he passed them. He settled in front of Tommy.

"You want to try some of my bread, bread yes bread," Alfie said already turning around to walk in the other direction.

Tommy gave me a look but I wasn't looking at him. I had my eyes fixed on the floor and my head down, hat pulled as far as it could to try and hide my face. We both followed Alfie to a table with rum bottles.

"White or brown, bread," Alfie said.

Tommy gave a look of confusion before replying "brown bread" he took a sip, I could see the cringe if disgust on his face.

"Good, good. No that's fucking awful that is." Alfie said chuckling to himself. He glanced at me and then back at Tommy. "Come to my office, we'll talk and you ..."

"Jacob," Tommy said following Alfie.

I was about two steps behind Tommy, trying to keep my head down and draw as little attention to myself as possible. We walked into the office me closing the door behind me but still standing extremely close to it. Alfie sat down in his seat and Tommy sat down in front. Alfie gave me a look and rolled his eyes before saying "do you think I'm some sort of idiot."

"I really don't know what you are talking about," Tommy said confused.

"Oh fuck you don't know okay well Jacob here is a fucking girl."

"Alfie!" I exclaimed.

"Y/N Oh you were hiding that for a reason. If I hadn't met you before I wouldn't have known if that makes you feel better"

"It doesn't," I said crossing my arms. "We met what 3 times I honestly didn't think you paid much attention.

"You and your sister are the only black people I see on a regular basis. I don't forget a face" he said pulling out a bottle of rum. "For the record, it was at least 23, I lost count after that, not 3"

"The fact that you counted scares me."

"Do you want some rum. Y/N, Tommy."

"No," we both said.

"Are you fucking serious Y/N, do you take me for a fool?" Tommy said his words calm but full of anger.

"No, I didn't mean for it to get this far. I just" Alfie cut us off with a loud cough before grumbling "You love birds can argue later I have business to discuss."

You took that as your cue to leave and sighed loudly before closing the door harder than you originally intended. You joined Ollie sitting on a barrel and put your head in your hand.

"He found out huh"

"Yes," you said between your fingers.

"If you didn't come here you would have been able to keep that up pretty well. How's your sister?"

"Fine I hope fairing better than me"

"I really don't know why you didn't get married when you had the chance, would have made life easier."

"No shit Ollie but did you meet the guy I would much sooner marry Alfie at least he would be more interesting and treat me a hell of a lot better."

"Those are dangerous words Y/N if he was here he probably would have hit you by now."

"Precisely my point. Do you know how limited my options are."

"You could always marry someone who isn't black."

"Are you mad, is that even legal, people are alright with me now because they associated me with this place. I still don't get served in most bars and the only reason I'm so valued is that of my ability to shoot. That's not even a viable suggestion. Not even for you Ollie."

"I'm sure Alfie would marry you given the option."

"How that man hasn't taken himself a wife already, I don't know,  but that man is crazy enough to do just about anything. I wouldn't put it past him. Why is this so hard"

Sensing I wanted to change the topic Ollie cleared his throat and asked: "Tommy so how do you know him."

"As me well we grew up together in a sense my is the local preacher and he is part gypsy. Outcast and outcast I guess. We weren't that close but there was a mutual respect for each other. As Jacob well, I asked for a job proved I could shoot and well I get paid pretty well. I said I was my dad's other son if my dad hadn't confirmed it I'm pretty sure I would be dead by now"

"Sounds like a great time."

"Well, it sure has been interesting," I grumbled again. Standing up as the door to the office opened. Ollie immediately got back to work and Tommy grabbed me hard by the shoulder and pulled me outside so fast my feet started to drag slightly.

"Y/N If you had just asked for a job as yourself instead of lying to me as if I am a fucking fool."

I cut him off "What was I suppose to do my dad already asked, I was desperate."

He gritted his teeth and looked away for a full minute.

"You're staying here."

"No fuck no I can't stay here."

"But you can lie to me about your fucking gender huh." I got quiet and a silence settled between us. "Alfie requested you stay here for a week and I agreed so your staying. You do whatever the fuck he wants and if you fuck up your fired."

I started to complain but he told me to "fuck off" and walked away leaving me to stand in front of the bakery like an idiot.

A week with that crazy idiot ought to be fun.

[ddphotography13]

Check out the old welder’s mask I scored today from one of the other vendors at Tommy’s Pub. Dude had all kinds of cool stuff! #weldersmask #weldershelmet

[kinialohaguy]

Pink Slipped

Aloha kākou. Imagine you’re a skilled worker, a pipe welder. You’re in the 40’s-60’s years of age. You have a family, a mortgage, bills to pay, and you’re being told to start over again at the bottom. At least Beijing Biden has promised you a $15 dollar per hour wage, doing something, somewhere. https://rumble.com/embed/vaq0hp/?pub=2hw1j John Kerry is asked what his message would be to oil and…

[jessesavageblacksmith]

Episode 5 is out . We had Patrick Quinn @handforgedinvt on from Center For Metal Arts @centerformetalarts We discussed his forging program, and the classes they offer at the blacksmithing school . It it was a lot of fun talking with Patrick & Rick give a listen, You can find us on iTunes or http://theblacksmithspub.com/ @theblacksmithspubpodcast brought to you by The Burn Network , @barter_rick & @blacksmithervic #podcast #blacksmith #welder #metalsmith #blacksmithing #forging #centerformetalarts #theblacksmithspubpodcast #pub

[pvcwelngsy]

The Auto movable welder is the only thing keeping many English

The Auto movable welder is the only thing keeping many English pubs in business, this unlikely hero of the countries publicans is all that stands between them and bankruptcy.

The English pub trade has been hit by a perfect storm of over regulation, economic down turn and poor weather. first came the smoking ban, then the credit crunch and now another wet summer. The only ray of light for some pubs is the flashing ones at the end of the bar in the shape of familiar pub slot machine. It now seems that the pub slot machine is the only difference between profit and lose for many public houses.

The advent of the smoking ban in the UK now means that 1 in 3 smokers now go to the pub less regularly according to trade reports. When you consider 21% percent of the England's population smoke, even a small drop in visitors adds up to an awful lot of unsold beer! Not surprisingly very few smokers relish the prospect of spending an evening stood in a pub car park. It's reported by The Times newspaper that revenues generated from gaming machines in public houses can contribute upwards of 25 per cent of their net profit. The Government's latest review of stakes and prizes gave a boost to slot machine income after the increase in maximum jackpot to £70, which came into force this year.

It is hoped the increase in Jackpot prizes may help pubs close the gap on lost beer sales, but it's unlikely that it will be anywhere near enough to save some pubs, which are closing at a rate of 52 per week. To add to the publicans misery this summer also saw the English football team crash out of the world cup after the group stage, which undoubtedly did not help sales, couple this with a wet summer and the outlook for the traditional English pub looks bleak.

It has recently been reported the new coalition government will be looking at ways to help the great British pub, ideas put forward include 'Community Run Pubs' which may see a village take part or full ownership of a local pub and use it as a shop, post office, library & pub. The pub could be run as a charity or a not for profit business. Other measure include 'Private Members' pubs which could charge a membership fee and try to gain a change in the law to allow smoking on the premises. Whatever the future holds it seems that the number of traditional pubs in England is sure to shrink over the coming years.

Since identity theft has become such a problem,

more and more people are getting paper shredders for personal use at

home. If you do not already have one, you should consider getting a

machine like the Fellowes P-35C. Check out its strengths and weaknesses:

Since identity theft has become such a problem,

more and more people are getting paper shredders for personal use at

home. If you don't already have one, you should consider getting a

machine like the Fellowes P-35C. Check out its strengths and weaknesses:

Strengths and features:

The P-35C can shred up to 5 sheets of paper at a

time. The machine's cutting mechanism is durable and can destroy a

couple of non-paper items: staples and credit cards. This shredder's waste basket can hold 3 gallons of

debris so it doesn't need to be emptied very often. When the bin gets

full, you can lift off the head of the shredder for easy disposal. This device has a 8.75-inch feed opening so you can

easily shred letter- and legal-sized documents. (Smaller documents can

also be shredded, obviously.) For a small paper shredder, the P-35C offers a

terrific amount of security. It's a cross-cut model which can turn paper

(or a credit card) into pieces that measure just 5/32" x 1-9/16". Since

the pieces are so small, you'll be able to protect your Social Security

number, contact details, and other private information. The P-35C has the ability to run continuously for

up to 2 minutes. The motor is thermally protected so it's unlikely to

overheat even if you're shredding a lot of documents. When you're not

using the shredder, you can engage its safety lock to prevent

unauthorized use. This is a very compact shredder with dimensions of

14" (height) x 13" (width) x 8" (depth). It's small enough to fit under a

desk so it will be out of the way when you're not using it. Also, the

machine has black and blue styling so it will look good wherever you put

it. Finally, this device's cutters are covered by a 3-year warranty.

Weaknesses and limitations:

Since the P-35C can only shred 8 sheets at a time,

it's not a good choice for heavy-duty use. Also, you can't shred CD's

and such with it. If you need a device that can do so, a multimedia

shredder would be a good choice. This machine can shred continuously for 2 minutes

but it then needs 20 minutes to cool off. This might be frustrating when

you want or need to shred a large stack of paper. Although the P-35C has a safety lock, it's not

equipped with Fellowes' SafeSense technology. Due to this, you should

exercise extra caution when shredding your documents.

Overall, we recommend the Fellowes P-35C to anyone who's looking for a

cross-cut shredder for personal use. While the machine has a couple of

weaknesses (such as the lengthy cooling off time), they shouldn't be a

problem if you're going to be using this machine for personal,

occasional shredding. Since the device has a good security rating,

you'll be able to protect your private information which will help you

protect your identity. Be sure to check out the Fellowes P-35C if it

sounds like the cross-cut shredder that will best fit your needs.

[kingspoetrysoc]

Interview with Pete Clarke

What makes someone a writer? How do our personal life experiences affect our approach to writing? With these questions in mind, The King’s Poet’s Karen Ng interviewed Pete Clarke, a writer from Lancashire.

Can you tell us a little bit about your life? As a young 17 year old girl, my mother became pregnant with a 24 year old man who deserted her when he found out. My mother’s family were Irish Catholics. In 1945, having a child out of wedlock was devastating for her. Her father was outraged but died before I was born. Fortunately, her mother supported her. She found a way out of her predicament by marrying a man returning from the war, who she didn't love. He had breathing problems caused by being gassed in the war. She had another four children by him to whom he showed love and affection. But not to me.

After the war my mother and so called stepfather started working in the Lancashire cotton mills, but when his health problems worsened with the cotton dust, he gave up working. My mother worked long hours in the mill and he looked after the children. It was hard for me because I didn't want to be in his company. My mother tried hard to keep the ship afloat, but they got in a lot of debt. I remember her crying when the bailiffs came and took things out of our house – including the cooker, leaving her to cook on the coal fire.

When did you first begin to venture into the world of writing and music? My grandmother Janey O’Donnell told me that our predecessors were Irish storytellers and musical entertainers. Several members of the family who lived across the road were members of the Todmorden Brass Band and I wanted to join. Mr. Duffield – a member of the Todmorden Brass Band – took me to meet the bandmaster who, to my delight, gave me a cornet and offered to teach me to play. When I returned home my stepfather gave it back to Mr. Duffield, and told him I wasn't allowed to have it. I was 10 years old. I remember going back to drawing with my pencil and paper. Then, at the age of 13 or 14, my best friend Ray Hamlin got a guitar for Christmas. I asked my parents if I could have one too, but was told ‘no’. So I made a cardboard template of a guitar, drawing the first four frets and strings on it. Ray gave me a copy of the basic chord chart and I leaned the chords on my cardboard.

I left school at the age of 15. The art teacher Mr. Eastwood personally took me to see the head of design at a textile print works, who offered me a job. I would be making tea and cleaning up the office whilst learning to become a designer. The pay was only £2.50 per week. But my stepfather told me he had got me a job in the cotton mill for £5 per week, and that I had to take it, as they needed the money. I learned quickly, and became a mule spinner – telling my so-called stepfather that his days of giving me a dog’s life were over. I was independent and I was going to do what I wanted to do.

At 17 I had my own guitar and met a 19 year old mill worker called Bob Higgins who said he played the bass. He asked if I would like to team up with him. Bob Higgins was a massive talent. He had perfect pitch: he didn't know the names of the notes but was an incredible bass player. Not only that, he was also a great singer who could do very convincing impressions of famous artists and accents, as well as sounds of nature and car engines. Along with Cannon and Ball – who were welders – we started entertaining in the northern clubs, quickly becoming a successful act. We developed a comedy and close-harmony vocal act similar to the sound of the Everly Brothers. I used to yodel and Bob yodelled in harmony. Over the following four years, we perfected a great musical comedy act. We entertained in the big clubs during the weekends whilst working in the mill during the weekdays. We knew we had something good and that we would one day get a lucky break. Cannon & Ball were on TV, and soon it would be our turn.

Then my world came crashing down. Bob’s wife said she would leave him if he didn't give up the entertaining career and the nightlife. Bob gave it all up for her and became a window cleaner. I continued to work in the mill. I had a gift for working out how machines worked, and I became a mule overlooker in charge of the maintenance of the mule spinning machines. 

Can you tell us a bit about your experiences performing as a stand-up comic? Stand-up comedy is not easy. There are lots of difficult crowds who don't give you a chance. But when you get four hundred people laughing and cheering at the words of one man – you – it's like a drug you need over and over again. On my own, I had to go back to entertaining in the small clubs, developing my individual stand up act and using my ability to tell a gag and my talent for good comic timing. The cotton mills were all shutting down, and thousands were out of work – including myself. So I decided to try to make a living as a comic. Although I had a lot of lean times, I just about managed it. I had three daughters and I worked in every rough dump you could think of in order to provide for them. I played with several Lanc's and York's [Lancashire and York] village brass bands and came up with an idea for a TV sitcom. I pitched the idea to Bobby Ball, who teamed up with me to write the script: a war of the roses between two brass bands at the Tudor Rose Pub. The border between Lancashire and York runs through the centre of the pub, and separates the two rival bands. Then came the second big disappointment: Bobby informed me that his agent had secured a lot of television work for him and that he would have to put my idea on the back-burner. I tried to get it produced by myself, but no one was interested. The script has been on the shelf since – for ten years – but I'm giving it another try this year.

How do you think comedy and music can interact with poetry? I think good music with a good lyric is the full package. And a comedy song is better still, topping it with laughter.

Do you think your life experiences have influenced your art? What kind of messages do you want to share through your work? Of course. My life experiences, my feelings about issues in my life, and the world I live in, all influence my writings. I have strong feelings about the fact that people will spend millions on a twinkling diamond trinket or a lump of yellow metal whilst people are starving to death. Bestowing great wealth on someone who can sing a song or kick a ball into a net whilst the money could drill a well to provide clean water for people...Religious institutions and royalty that own wealth beyond belief and give the impression they are helping by giving a little to charity or using the collection box to impress...The sad thing is I am powerless to change any of this using my words.

Is there a consistent writing habit you try to stick by? Do you think it’s necessary for writers to be consistently writing? I don't have a consistent writing habit. I don't know if it’s necessary for writers to be consistently writing – I started writing the odd song many years ago, and sometimes the lyrics didn’t work, but I kept them as a bunch of words you could call a poem. Once I start on something I don't stop until it's finished. I twist and turn the words, changing them so they do work. I have never taken it seriously; a situation may come into my mind that I would like to put into words. I try to put my thoughts down on paper using a few words and just for fun, to see if I can make them rhyme. I called it a poem. Just for fun again I put some of them on YouTube.

Can you tell us about Napnars, and why you don’t consider yourself a poet? A lady made a comment that I will never be a poet; I replied that I'm not a poet. I came up with the word Napnars. I thought that if my writings are not regarded as poems, this is what I could call them instead. If I am writing a Napnar, or the lyrics to a song – I am trying to tell the full story in a few words, and at the same time, trying to paint a picture in the mind of the listener or reader.

Lastly, what advice would you like to offer poets who are just starting out?  It must give you the feel-good factor and a sense of achievement. You must be happy receiving the responses of others and the belief that you can do it. You are in possession of a lethal weapon: the pen. Take care how you use it. Your words are a point of view that can cause stress and anxiety, or peace and tranquility.

Several of Pete’s poems have been published under The King’s Poet: please enjoy them here. To read and listen to more of Pete’s Napnars, please visit his YouTube channel.

[candy-floss-crazy]

My Kingdom For A Welder. Tales Of Misadventures.

We put a lot of work into being professional, giving our clients an excellent service and hopefully securing regular repeat business. Sometimes though I think we are a bit like ducks, all calm and serene looking on the surface, whilst paddling furiously underneath to keep things going.

We seem to go for extended periods of time, without any major problems or issues. Then all of a sudden the gods of spite rear their ugly heads to slap us about a bit.

A few years ago we were contracted to provide a small family funfair for the opening of NUS Mutuals new headquarters. I wrote about our run in with Princess Anne’s bodyguards at the same event.

In the event, we got set up in the nick of time, operated to the clients satisfaction and was all derigged ready for the road by about 11pm. That should have put us on getting back home for around 2am.

We sent the girls on ahead in the car, I was in a lorry towing a children’s ride, and Arthur was in another lorry towing a trailer loaded with equipment.

Arthur

I’ll introduce Arthur, he could loosely be described as a business partner. There was nothing official, but we tended to do some of the larger jobs together. Physically he looked a bit like Austin Powers, only much much shorter. Think of a 4ft 10 version of Austin Powers, glasses and all and you would be on the right track.

Anyway, I was just approaching Tamworth services when I gets a phone call from Arthur.

“One of the wheels on my trailer is hot”

“How Hot” I enquired.

“Too FU*&^NG hot to touch”, was his expert opinion. That sounded like a wheel bearing was on its way out. I told him I would wait for him in the services.

When he arrived I found he was pretty accurate in his diagnoses, It was too hot to touch. I told him to jack the wheel off the floor so we could see how bad it was. When he did the wheel promptly fell off. The bearing wasn’t on its way out, it had left the building, deceased, kaput, as dead as a very dead thing.

Not our bearing, but one remarkably like it.

When Spares Are A Good Idea

Luckily, the bearing was the same type as used on the wheels of the children’s ride I was towing. I always keep a couple of spares in stock, as they have failed on me in the past. No probs, half an hour and we would be back on the road. We cleaned the stub axle up, changed the bearing, put the wheel back on, and I told Arthur to tighten the locking nut to hold everything in place.

Slight problem he told me, the threads had been damaged and the nut wouldn’t go back on. Crap, we will have to weld it on. “Got a welder” he asked, I did in fact have one, 100 miles away back at base. Why havent you got one was my retort, “Because I didn’t know my FU*&^NG wheel bearing was FU*&^NG going to FU*&^NG fail” was his eloquent reply.

My Kingdom For A Welder

So there we were half past midnight stuck in services on a Sunday morning with no welder. Luckily I thought of my Uncle Michael. About 60 miles away in Nottinghamshire, at that time he would have just been coming in from the pub. A quick call and he agreed to leave a welder at the gate of his property for us to pick up.

Cue a 2 hour round trip for the welder. We got back set the welder up, ran a cable to the power generator, started it up, and welded the nut on. Only we didn’t, as Arthur touched the welding rod to the nut, the generator stopped.

Having just installed it the day before, it didn’t have a fuel tank fitted, instead the fuel was in a five gallon plastic drum. This had moved en route and pulled the fuel pipe out so the engine was starved of diesel. Not an issue, we have purged the fuel system of air plenty often in the past.

My Kingdom For A Battery

We did that, turned the key, and nothing happened, the sodding battery was flat. Now we needed jumper cables, which were also back home. No problem, we were in a services, you could go and buy a set from the garage. You know the type, they are £3.99 a set, only in the services they add a 0 on the end.

No matter the cost we needed the bloody things. We connected them up and yay, the damn thing started. Only the rattling and crunching indicated that the starter motor hadn’t disengaged. It was now being torn apart by the engine running.

Arthur looked at me, “Just weld the FU&*^NG thing on and we’ll repair the starter tomorrow.”

We limped home just as it was becoming daylight, a three hour trip turning into around 8 hours.

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My Kingdom For A Welder. Tales Of Misadventures. was originally published on Candy Floss Crazy Blog