Any tips where to stay? Camping facilities? Houses or holliday apartements to rent? Links on the web to it? Is it warm there in summer? Rain?
Anybody been to Sicily ... England?
- Thread starter aspier
- Start date
http://www.simplyscilly.co.uk/
http://www.scillyonline.co.uk/
http://www.isles-of-scilly.co.uk/
Haven't been there but the climate will be similar to Cornwall. Can be really nice but rain is possible at any time of year
http://www.scillyonline.co.uk/
http://www.isles-of-scilly.co.uk/
Haven't been there but the climate will be similar to Cornwall. Can be really nice but rain is possible at any time of year
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The Scilly isles are tiny, so you'll have to make sure you really want to be there... have you considered the Isle of Wight? A bit bigger, and it's quicker to get back to the mainland. My parents used to live there. Small, slow, but lovely.
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- Apr 26, 2005
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SpookyWriter
Banned
Oh come now. You're from Germany and don't know about the climate in the UK or Sicily? And about links, don't they have linkies in Germany? You're joking with us.
Very funny.
Look, if he WANTS to find a silly isle then the Isle of Wight is his best bet. Trust me. I've stayed there.
When my parents first moved there, there was only one set of traffic lights and one police car on the whole island. An escalator was announced as a tourist attraction when a new shop opened. It's a fantastic place.
When my parents first moved there, there was only one set of traffic lights and one police car on the whole island. An escalator was announced as a tourist attraction when a new shop opened. It's a fantastic place.
Mm I read you ... maybe the hop from small island to island will drive up prices. Yet the 'way-outness' attracts me and the rugged rocks. I just love places like that, deserts, nature and water sec. Maybe U was a salamander in a previous life.
Joe270
Banned
Try Vegas.
Our 'way-outness' way-outnesses anyplace, and we got lots and lots of rugged rocks.
Some of our rugged rocks are red, too.
Exactly, the country side around Vegas, I would love it and could stay somewhere there for ages ... alone for a long time. But the town Vegas ... I can't believe people really go to such places. Actually I don't fit in at all where people are ... like this board for instance. Then again, there's no people in here, I am sure of it, no? Its all virtual cyber such.
Are you a person? Or a figment of a rememberance? Do you think there are people in here?
Joe270
Banned
No. There are no people here. You are in Hell.
I, however, am in Vegas. I would invite you to visit, but:
Sorry, but the guest room doesn't have vacancies for 'ages'.
Try Rhymegirl, she's got an open guest room.
I, however, am in Vegas. I would invite you to visit, but:
Sorry, but the guest room doesn't have vacancies for 'ages'.
Try Rhymegirl, she's got an open guest room.
Weird that we use the word 'I' when we are naughts and ones. You did know that heaven is hell ... I don't know if its also true the other way round. But let me ask you a question: Do you think we have any controle over where we are? Leaving it there that we might not be what (and who) we think we are.
I am pushing my literature with feet of writers. If you want to check it out you can click on these German feet I got yesterday - writers from all over the world - http://users.skynet.be/spier/2008shoefiction/2008shoepetra01.htm
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Joe270
Banned
Hell, I've been outta control for 50 years now. Hell no.
But it's been one hell of a ride so far.
Smile. Yet sometimes one just f along, no? I am been riding a little bit more than you and now I want to go and park where there's no noise. I don't mean physical noise. That doesn't bother me. I'd been infected by buddhism and I know tricks how to shut-up things. Its mind stuff, etc. I mean other noise ... what other? You know, actually I do not know a thing what I am talking about. Maybe I should come to Vegas town ... try my powers to shut up the noise in the roulette room. Make space for salamanders etc.
Noise!
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Joe270
Banned
The Vegas noise isn't real noise. It's as fake as the boobs. Take a second to focus, and the noise just goes away.
But the fake boobs still keep the showgirls from drowning in the 'Treasure Island Pirate Show', now known as the 'Treasure Island Tart Show' since they replaced all the men pirates with women with huge silicone flotation devices.
It was a safety measure.
But the fake boobs still keep the showgirls from drowning in the 'Treasure Island Pirate Show', now known as the 'Treasure Island Tart Show' since they replaced all the men pirates with women with huge silicone flotation devices.
It was a safety measure.
How would you like to have a screenplay? http://users.skynet.be/spier/2008asstrainhtm.htm
Noise in a writer's head. I think the whole b lood y point is we are too many people on earth. Some Dutchman suggested 'Tsunamiiiiiiiii!' but even saying this here (what he said) can have one's thread be whoosh to the background drop where you never find it again. All these people they are the reincarnated mosquitoes we kill. See that noise. The on and on and on thing. Just check the threads here in office. They just keep on rolling. Same with those tarts. Every night on. Same as we. We just talk. Don't read the whole 'Strain' ... last paragraph's short and covers the whole trip. You not into librettos for opera too?
Noise in a writer's head. I think the whole b lood y point is we are too many people on earth. Some Dutchman suggested 'Tsunamiiiiiiiii!' but even saying this here (what he said) can have one's thread be whoosh to the background drop where you never find it again. All these people they are the reincarnated mosquitoes we kill. See that noise. The on and on and on thing. Just check the threads here in office. They just keep on rolling. Same with those tarts. Every night on. Same as we. We just talk. Don't read the whole 'Strain' ... last paragraph's short and covers the whole trip. You not into librettos for opera too?
Joe270 - there's a lot of blurb crap at the bottom. I meant this chapter
On the verge
[SIZE=-1]Its making me itch
Its making me bad
I think I get out of here
where I can run as fast as I can.
P!nk, Just like a pill[/SIZE]
[SIZE=-1]I am as close to you as you are close to me
Buddhist Slogan[/SIZE]
[SIZE=-1]What really felt good was that I had come to the decision to stop with writing all by myself and that it was taken in all free will. Nobody had forced me to take it. I had designed it all by myself in sobriety and with the necessary responsibility to face such a life changing decision. And as I stood there above the world and watched from the heights the friendly face of the scenery around me I felt very contented and sure of myself.
'Atlantis may be down there! Mermaids…'
I stood firm on the hillside. Behind me was the First Tower of the bay of Cap Gris-Néz and my feet were firmly rooted and secured in the white clay of Normandy. Towards the left of me and across the 15 kilometres crow flight distance the second tower's silhouette etched itself into the sky like big pointing finger warning for an omen. Cap Blanc. Below me there was the grey steel coloured seabed of the Channel between France and England. It looked unearthly silver as it stretched itself out across the 50 odd sea miles between the continent and the island. On the side of Great Brittany the whitened Cliffs of Dover lit up, splashes of paint in a still life.
I had made up my mind. I would never write a single word of literature ever again.
'Not ever again! Too spooky … writing!'
And while I thought about it I envisaged myself as a heroic figure standing on the verge of a new frontier. An armoured knight, one with a great history behind him. One with a rough and haggard past but a warrior who was now returning home. It was a nice thought.
'A Ring leader hero… Francis Bacon style' I mused and smiled at my own musing 'I have made it!'
And I straightened my back standing proud. I felt the firmness of my feet on the ground. My work was still selling well and the amount of stories I had accomplished… 'Oh, I could live off it for years to come still'.
Above me was the sky with its clear day message. The air in it was fresh and scented with sea smells. It was so wide and open, an ocean of wealth laid out especially for me. Looking up I watched it in wonderment.
I lowered my head to watch the Cliffs of Dover again.
'The distance between the two landmasses wasn't so great after all' I thought.
Then my eyes shifted closer to the shore on which I stood. There were the broken chunks of cliff in front of me. And the old disregarded World War One and Two German bunkers. The shoreline formed a rugged diagonal line stretching from Calais right down to the second Tower in the upper right corner. Cap Gris-Néz. On both hills the Towers were standing guard. My eyes followed the rugged coastline. In between there were small overgrowth and patches of sparse thickets cuddled into save groups bracing against constant exposure of the sea winds. Nearer to where I stood there was also grass and small white and poppy red flowers.
Then I watched the white stones some meters away from me. They marked the safe ground on which to stay behind. And I saw my feet in front of me. My neatly polished black shoes contrasted sharply with the yellowish clay on which I stood.
I smiled.
'Spanish leather…'
I saw the bottom of my Armani charcoal pants. The rough-ironed lines in them lead upwards. My eyes followed the lines. I saw my dark brown crocodile belt with its expensive buckle. It matched with the pants. My gaze went upwards towards my lemon coloured silk shirt and the maroon tie.
'No belly…!'
And I followed the tie up its length towards my neck… And then I got a fright! I realised I couldn't look further up myself! I couldn't see my chin or neck! I thought of my face, I couldn't see my face either!
'My god!' I thought in disgust 'Where is my face? What if I have no face?'
Heathen alarm and anaemic disquietude bolted in me. There was a spider jumping for a kill. I stood there with my head on my chest with straining eyes to look at my neck and was full of naked fear.
'I am neck-less!' I thought 'Where is my face?'
I moved my tie away with one hand searching. But there were only the lemon shirt and its buttons. My hand touched upwards and I counted three buttons. Then I felt the ruff of the shirt and above it soft flesh.
'Was it my neck?'
I felt towards my head with both hands. There was fluffy stuff like hair on it. I touched around my head. I felt my brim and my eyebrows. And sockets below it with round things in them.
'Eyes?'
Then I touched my nose and below it I felt at my mouth. My fingers went into a hole. There was oozy wetness in it.
'Saliva?'
I looked at the gluey substance on my fingers and a cold maddening shiver ran down my spine. I pictured myself standing there in my neat city clothes. I was on the hill at Cap Gris-Néz and I had no face, no head and no eyes. Where my face was supposed to be, I saw only a gaping wound of a mouth with slime oozing out of it.
'Blood! Oh my god! A knight with a chopped off head and a figure of a body looking from a hilltop and having no neck, chin and face!'
I wanted to run!
But I told myself to not do it obviously. There were the Towers. I shuffled backwards towards the car and then couldn't help it but got into it hastely and locked the doors.
I needed air. I swallowed. Took a deep breath.
'Relax! Relax!'
I put on the safety belt and started the car. Then I drove off.
'Holy Mother of Christ!' I whispered 'Am so glad I had made that decision!'
My voice was coming from the gaping wound in my face. I gave gas. And when I stole a glance in the hind mirror I saw another dark gaping hole! It was in the side of a bunker to the side of the tower. It was a hole made by British artillery in 44. They had hit the bunker and took out the whole of the German command in it. I gave more gas and ran the car up the culvert but quickly managed to get back onto the road again.
'I am out of here!'
History was behind me … like my career. I was racing towards the second Tower and a different scene closing the cycle of Cap Gris-Néz as fast as I could.
'Young Responsible Driver … my arse! Was…'
[/SIZE]
On the verge
[SIZE=-1]Its making me itch
Its making me bad
I think I get out of here
where I can run as fast as I can.
P!nk, Just like a pill[/SIZE]
[SIZE=-1]I am as close to you as you are close to me
Buddhist Slogan[/SIZE]
[SIZE=-1]What really felt good was that I had come to the decision to stop with writing all by myself and that it was taken in all free will. Nobody had forced me to take it. I had designed it all by myself in sobriety and with the necessary responsibility to face such a life changing decision. And as I stood there above the world and watched from the heights the friendly face of the scenery around me I felt very contented and sure of myself.
'Atlantis may be down there! Mermaids…'
I stood firm on the hillside. Behind me was the First Tower of the bay of Cap Gris-Néz and my feet were firmly rooted and secured in the white clay of Normandy. Towards the left of me and across the 15 kilometres crow flight distance the second tower's silhouette etched itself into the sky like big pointing finger warning for an omen. Cap Blanc. Below me there was the grey steel coloured seabed of the Channel between France and England. It looked unearthly silver as it stretched itself out across the 50 odd sea miles between the continent and the island. On the side of Great Brittany the whitened Cliffs of Dover lit up, splashes of paint in a still life.
I had made up my mind. I would never write a single word of literature ever again.
'Not ever again! Too spooky … writing!'
And while I thought about it I envisaged myself as a heroic figure standing on the verge of a new frontier. An armoured knight, one with a great history behind him. One with a rough and haggard past but a warrior who was now returning home. It was a nice thought.
'A Ring leader hero… Francis Bacon style' I mused and smiled at my own musing 'I have made it!'
And I straightened my back standing proud. I felt the firmness of my feet on the ground. My work was still selling well and the amount of stories I had accomplished… 'Oh, I could live off it for years to come still'.
Above me was the sky with its clear day message. The air in it was fresh and scented with sea smells. It was so wide and open, an ocean of wealth laid out especially for me. Looking up I watched it in wonderment.
I lowered my head to watch the Cliffs of Dover again.
'The distance between the two landmasses wasn't so great after all' I thought.
Then my eyes shifted closer to the shore on which I stood. There were the broken chunks of cliff in front of me. And the old disregarded World War One and Two German bunkers. The shoreline formed a rugged diagonal line stretching from Calais right down to the second Tower in the upper right corner. Cap Gris-Néz. On both hills the Towers were standing guard. My eyes followed the rugged coastline. In between there were small overgrowth and patches of sparse thickets cuddled into save groups bracing against constant exposure of the sea winds. Nearer to where I stood there was also grass and small white and poppy red flowers.
Then I watched the white stones some meters away from me. They marked the safe ground on which to stay behind. And I saw my feet in front of me. My neatly polished black shoes contrasted sharply with the yellowish clay on which I stood.
I smiled.
'Spanish leather…'
I saw the bottom of my Armani charcoal pants. The rough-ironed lines in them lead upwards. My eyes followed the lines. I saw my dark brown crocodile belt with its expensive buckle. It matched with the pants. My gaze went upwards towards my lemon coloured silk shirt and the maroon tie.
'No belly…!'
And I followed the tie up its length towards my neck… And then I got a fright! I realised I couldn't look further up myself! I couldn't see my chin or neck! I thought of my face, I couldn't see my face either!
'My god!' I thought in disgust 'Where is my face? What if I have no face?'
Heathen alarm and anaemic disquietude bolted in me. There was a spider jumping for a kill. I stood there with my head on my chest with straining eyes to look at my neck and was full of naked fear.
'I am neck-less!' I thought 'Where is my face?'
I moved my tie away with one hand searching. But there were only the lemon shirt and its buttons. My hand touched upwards and I counted three buttons. Then I felt the ruff of the shirt and above it soft flesh.
'Was it my neck?'
I felt towards my head with both hands. There was fluffy stuff like hair on it. I touched around my head. I felt my brim and my eyebrows. And sockets below it with round things in them.
'Eyes?'
Then I touched my nose and below it I felt at my mouth. My fingers went into a hole. There was oozy wetness in it.
'Saliva?'
I looked at the gluey substance on my fingers and a cold maddening shiver ran down my spine. I pictured myself standing there in my neat city clothes. I was on the hill at Cap Gris-Néz and I had no face, no head and no eyes. Where my face was supposed to be, I saw only a gaping wound of a mouth with slime oozing out of it.
'Blood! Oh my god! A knight with a chopped off head and a figure of a body looking from a hilltop and having no neck, chin and face!'
I wanted to run!
But I told myself to not do it obviously. There were the Towers. I shuffled backwards towards the car and then couldn't help it but got into it hastely and locked the doors.
I needed air. I swallowed. Took a deep breath.
'Relax! Relax!'
I put on the safety belt and started the car. Then I drove off.
'Holy Mother of Christ!' I whispered 'Am so glad I had made that decision!'
My voice was coming from the gaping wound in my face. I gave gas. And when I stole a glance in the hind mirror I saw another dark gaping hole! It was in the side of a bunker to the side of the tower. It was a hole made by British artillery in 44. They had hit the bunker and took out the whole of the German command in it. I gave more gas and ran the car up the culvert but quickly managed to get back onto the road again.
'I am out of here!'
History was behind me … like my career. I was racing towards the second Tower and a different scene closing the cycle of Cap Gris-Néz as fast as I could.
'Young Responsible Driver … my arse! Was…'
[/SIZE]