The C-word and other delights. Tilf and Mr Trick look at language and it’s ways.

We’re looking at words, maybe a few sentences, but the important thing to remember is that we’re looking at why, and when. What’s the point of knowing words and phrases, if we don’t know where they’re from or what they mean, or why we use them now. I will offend you, sorry and all. Perhaps. Continue reading


Tilf is going outside, she may be some time. Mr Trick holds down the fort and speaks a truth.

Tilf is taking a holiday, so I will be taking over for a little while. Not ages, don’t panic, just long enough.

She’s hurting and not in a state to do this, but she’s also angry, and you know what? I am too. I’m furious. Continue reading

Nightmare of life. Tilf tries to escape night terrors.

I have to say, early warning, to read this blog, you must turn the lights down, and the volume up, as it were.

I used to get night terrors as a child, I had more normal nightmares, but I’d get the occasional full on terror, but I felt so much better when I seemed to stop getting terrors. Seriously, I was over-joyed. But over the years, I’ve still gotten nightmares, but thankfully, they haven’t verged back into terrors for a while.

Until last night. Continue reading

Twelve years have passed. Tilf and Trick reflect on humanities worst moments.

So time has done it’s usual thing and passed, rather swiftly and leaving everyone wondering what happened.

So mainly for today, I would like to acknowledge that 12 years have passed. 12 years of unanswered questions and broken hearts. Continue reading

Not December, not Christmas. Bear with us, this has a point! Tilf and Trick try calming down about the dreaded ‘C-word’.

The good news is that I’m still alive. The downside is that apparently, it’s only 110 days until Christmas. I was informed, and I was not happy. I took that photo today, by the way. Continue reading

Tattoos and tears. Tilf bears witness to modern body art and familial reactions.

I’m happy to say that I have had another tattoo done, this time a cover up, so I can legally rag on people with bad tattoos. Unfortunately, my family don’t feel this way, despite the fact I’m 28, and, I like to think, actually an alright kid. But apparently not. I’m actually evil. Continue reading