I've been looking at the woodlands junior school brain teasers page. It's pure gold. These brain teasers are, for the most part worked out by students. The brief is to catch you out - and catch you out they will.
Here are a few of my favourites:
(Highlight the lines below the brain teaser to see the answer)
A man gets an egg and a rocket kit. The man builds the rocket and puts the egg inside it. Then the man stands back and launches the rocket. The rocket suddenly blew up. The egg was not damaged how come?
Answer: He took the egg out of the rocket before he tried to launch it. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
If a man is trapped in a room. There are no doors no windows how did he get out?
Answer: He got out through the doorway. There were no doors, but there was a doorway.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= This one is my absolute favourite - it'll stump you for hours:
What is it you sit on, sleep in, and brush your teeth with?
The light was beautiful this afternoon as I stepped out of the house to seek inspiration by the sea. Some bird watchers had beaten me to it - no doubt in search of the Lesser-Spotted Crotch-Tailed Herring-Gull. Or something.
I decided to take these shots in my “Car's eye view” series, so I just pulled my car into the car park at church point and shot from out of the sun roof. I'm pleased with the results, and wonder if these may even be good enough to go into the community theme in the arts forum. It seems that bird-watching, much to my surprise, is part of the scene here in this endlessly intriguing town.
As for me, I am facing decisions that may cause me to change things about me that I have kept locked away inside for years. That's enough to make anyone look wistfully at the sea, or maybe have a sleepless night or two.
How much have you really changed recently? Do you find change scary? I know I do. So much so that I usually prefer it to be forced upon me, rather than to welcome it. I tend to think that many of us pay lip service to positive change, always intending to do the right thing, but rarely actually achieving much.
On the other hand, I change in other ways without even trying. So, are we what we are, should we just be blown along by the changes of life - or can we actually choose to change and can that change be permanent?
Some tiny questions for you and me to consider today. Have a nice one.
Such beautiful light. NBTS seems to attract such wonders.
Fish and Chips Ice Cream - from Coastline, Blyth's Famous House of Fat.
“Fish and Chips Ice Cream” proclaims the proud sign on the side of Coastline in Blyth. I am relieved to tell you that this promise is not lived up to at all. Whilst one can easily buy both fish and chips and ice cream in the same place, there is not an ice cream on the menu which already contains fish and chips.
The more determined may, of course, quickly mix their own, but that is entirely a matter for them. Good luck to those literalists, I say. I hope they never find their way to the Petrol Station selling “Diesel Cigarettes” that I found not long ago. Should be one heck of a smoke.
We took Anna to Coastline today, to experience some nice fishy things before she set out on the long and lonely drive back to Huddersfield. We had a brief look at the prom, but it was rather chilly and yet not enough wind to rise my little kite.
One nice bit was this touching moment as Anna snuggled Liz for warmth. In truth, despite the lack of breeze, it was a fairly bleak afternoon. I clung to the purest joy generated by my having eaten a Nugget Wafer, full of beautiful soft vanilla ice-cream.
I could have had any flavour ice-cream I wanted - well, from the selection available. The truth is, that in my nice ice-cream sandwich, I favour the pure soft machine-pulled vanilla ice-cream. (Remember Mr. Softee?)
Back in Huddersfield, the choice is even clearer - Dixon's rules the roost totally. No-where else does ice-cream like Dixon's. Goodness knows how they do it - but I wish their technique was available more widely across the country.
So, given the choice, what would you go for? Soft machine-pulled ice cream, or the favoured stuff? Does Ben and Jerry rule supreme now? What the heck is Movenpick?
OK, I admit it. I watch it and find it compulsive viewing.
Although this year, having been attracted by the initial auditions I feel a bit like I've been suckered into a mock-auction.
I don't know whether Simon Cowell has picked the eventual winner yet, but I bet he has a final three in mind. His comments are often very fair, even if negative. But then, we see him “go for the jugular” after beautiful performances like Nikitta's tonight.
I can only assume that the judges agreed it was time to clear her out. As for me, I'm disillusioned. We seem to have a highly glitzy programme that bears little resemblance to a hard-fought competition.
So, we have the contestants who look good an have a great potential image - a nice commercial look. These people seem to get praise whatever they do. Then there are the great singers who do not have a good commercial look - these people seem to get insulted no matter how well they perform.
There is a lack of honesty at work, and a relentless search for safe commercialism. I sense a fear that someone will win who does not have ongoing success, and that this will reflect badly on the programme.
This whole talent search thing should be careful lest it disappear up it's own pert bottom.
Here's someone cleverly cashing in on the theme. Not.
Folk night at the Black Pearl - with Pete. Oh yes.
If you dream of cosy nights packed into a small room full of beer-swilling, tab-smoking, guitar-playing, loud-singing folk musicians, then tonight would have very much been your night.
The undisputed star of the night was Pete - a man for whom shouting louder than anyone in the room was but a starting point. His enthusiasm, much like his singing, knows no bounds as he strikes up old favourites again and again.
Of particular note was his merciless murdering of the the Bryan Adams classic: “Everything I do, I do it for you.” I shall not quickly forget the way he forced that tune to slide over those chords. It was the musical equivalent to fingernails on the blackboard.
That said, much of the rest of the music was great, and many of us joined in on bits of percussion, or in TL's case micro-harmonica and tin whistle (plastic). Rebecca put in a brief appearance and delivered a strong egg, as ever.
Jason sang a total of three hauntingly beautiful songs, leaving most of the room in tears. Certainly, no-one was laughing. A touching moment.
As the event wound up, I filmed the closing moments, along with the now inevitable exploding of Pete's head.