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Was it Lexington Green?
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Excellent Davina! Now for the last one.
The name of the man with the BIGGEST signature on the Declaration of Independence.
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John Hancock?
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While* our non-American friends are honoring our heritage with KP's puzzle, may I suggest that we Americans all watch Michael Wood's "Story of England" on PBS? I'm not sure if it just started this week, or if we missed any of it. We have just recorded one episode so far. Michael Wood did a wonderful three- or four-part series on Shakespeare not that long ago. It was fascinating and entertaining, and I expect that the "Story" one will be, too. so, Brits, have you seen it?
*I really wanted to say "whilst," but I wasn't sure I could pull it off.
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Got it Molly! You found it. Now, would you like to return the pillow to the flat tonight - or would you like me to do it?
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veecee - I love Michael Woods. All his show are amazing. I particularly liked his Alexander the Great series. My husband has been taping The Story of England - I think there have been 2. I think I'll start watching tonight - after I watch the big fireworks display in Boston from my yacht and after I return the pillow to 221B if Molly doesn't want to do it.
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Didn't see Alexander the Great. Will have to look for it. Thanks.
If it can wait a year or so, I can return the pillow for you. Although I suppose Molly already called dibs.
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Sentimental Pulse wrote:
Irene Adler wrote:
Another stereotype, probably influenced by the movies...
Over here we think the 4th of July every American goes to the nearest mount (or gets into their yacht) to watch the fireworks with the whole family
That said... Happy 4th of July, fellow Americans!!I can promise you Irene, that if I had a yacht I would buy airfare for all of you to fly over and have a big party on it! Hell I might do that anyway I love you all so.
I would probably have to hawk the yacht to do such a thing. Not to mention actually FIND a lake.
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Molly must have gone to bed so now it's up to me to sneak the Union Jack pillow back to it's rightful place.
I find myself standing in the shadows of the doorway at Speedy's. I've just observed Sherlock leave 221B, pulling his coat collar up against the night air. John left hours ago - I think for a night out with Mike S. He does that when he's between girlfriends - which is often. This is my chance. I duck inside and take the stairs two at a time skipping over the creaky one. Mrs. Hudson must be baking again - this time it smells like Victoria Sponge (whatever the hell that is). I reach the top of the landing, trusty lock picker in hand when, to my surprise, the door swings open at my touch. It's pitch black inside. Slowly and warily I step into the room. With my heart in my throat, I'm trying desperately to get my bearings when suddenly I hear a deep, languid voice from the darkness say, "I've been expecting you."
I gasp in fright and freeze. My heart stops. A light clicks on and there he is, the great detective himself, sitting in the arm chair facing me. I am completely undone. My jaw works but nothing comes out of my mouth but helpless little gasping squeaks. All those fine words I practiced in case I should ever meet this man in a Starbucks have completely fled my brain. He looks faintly amused at my panic. Finally I manage to stammer out, "But I saw you leave...how...how did you.....?
"How did I get back in here so quickly without being seen? What are you? An idiot? There's a back door of course. It's code. Now hand over that pillow you've got hidden in your jumper. No disrespect, but you're obviously too old to be pregnant".
Sheepishly I pull it out and hand it to him. He pats it absently with his long fingers as if he had missed it, all the while holding me in his penetrating gaze "Yes", he finally says, "Rather as I expected.... a stupid patriotic American from north of Boston, obviously involved in some kind of ridiculous fan forum".
I gasp in shock. "How could you tell that?"
"Stupid for sneaking into my flat of all places. And even more stupid to come back and try again. This had "prank" written all over it - a particularly ridiculous American conceit - and you're obviously patriotic considering the calendar date, and the emblem on the little "gift" you left here. Besides, there's a mustard stain at the corner of your mouth from your traditional 4th of July hot dog. I can tell you're from north of Boston by your jumper (sweater I believe you Americans call it) which is made of a particular kind of fleece made only at Marston Mills, one of the few remaining textile factories in northern Massachusetts. You left some of the fibers on the floor last night and I was able to easily trace them. And of course I can tell you are a member of a fan forum by your hands"
"My hands!!!"
"Yes, your fingers to be more precise. Just look at them. All knotted up and deformed with arthritis from excessive keyboard typing of long winded comments and "most recent posts" checking. It's obvious you're obsessed. I noticed the scratches around my door lock from you clumsy break-in attempt last night and surmised the poor condition of your hands. I suggest you seek psychiatric help immediately."
"Err, well yes" I manage to stammer, "I've been thinking about doing just that". I'm now ready to sink through the floor boards in embarrassment. "So, if you don't mind, I'll just take my American pillow and leave now. Sorry to bother you and all that. It was a really stupid thing to do."
"Wait! Hold on just a moment," he commands. He points to my pillow still adorning the other arm chair. "My uh.....friend, John, actually found that pillow rather comfortable last night. He said it made his leg feel better - or maybe it was his shoulder - I can never remember which. So, if you don't mind I'd like to keep it. For some strange reason I find I enjoy making that man happy".
I nod my approval as he rises and places the Union Jack right next to the Stars and Stripes together in the same chair. They look lovely side by side - the colors blending as if they had always belonged together. I find I'm grinning from ear to ear at that perfect union and notice that the great man too has something of a lopsided smile on his face.
Finally he looks at me and says, "No need to rush out I would think. The fireworks are over now aren't they? Why don't you stay for a bit. It does get rather lonely when John isn't here. I'll have Mrs. Hudson bring us up a bit of that Victoria sponge and some tea. You'll never find a better housekeeper in all of London. Now sit down and tell me all about this Forum of yours. Whatever do you talk about all day long?"
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Smoggy_London_Air wrote:
I would probably have to hawk the yacht to do such a thing. Not to mention actually FIND a lake.
What about The POOL. Midnight.?
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What did you tell him, KP? Not the truth, I hope. Also, this has inspired me to post a new thread about deductions Sherlock would make about the members of the forum.
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That was BRILLIANT KP!
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What a wonderful story, KP. I could feel his penetrating gaze and hear his brain working. What would he make of this crazy bunch?
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Smoggy_London_Air wrote:
What did you tell him, KP? Not the truth, I hope. Also, this has inspired me to post a new thread about deductions Sherlock would make about the members of the forum.
Hi Smoggy. As you can see, I'm all set for your new thread. Sherlock has already made his deductions about me. He nailed it!
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Sorry I couldn't make it KP, it was 4 in the morning!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1,000th post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last edited by Molly Hooper (July 5, 2012 5:17 pm)
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KeepersPrice wrote:
Molly must have gone to bed so now it's up to me to sneak the Union Jack pillow back to it's rightful place.
I find myself standing in the shadows of the doorway at Speedy's. I've just observed Sherlock leave 221B, pulling his coat collar up against the night air. John left hours ago - I think for a night out with Mike S. He does that when he's between girlfriends - which is often. This is my chance. I duck inside and take the stairs two at a time skipping over the creaky one. Mrs. Hudson must be baking again - this time it smells like Victoria Sponge (whatever the hell that is). I reach the top of the landing, trusty lock picker in hand when, to my surprise, the door swings open at my touch. It's pitch black inside. Slowly and warily I step into the room. With my heart in my throat, I'm trying desperately to get my bearings when suddenly I hear a deep, languid voice from the darkness say, "I've been expecting you."
I gasp in fright and freeze. My heart stops. A light clicks on and there he is, the great detective himself, sitting in the arm chair facing me. I am completely undone. My jaw works but nothing comes out of my mouth but helpless little gasping squeaks. All those fine words I practiced in case I should ever meet this man in a Starbucks have completely fled my brain. He looks faintly amused at my panic. Finally I manage to stammer out, "But I saw you leave...how...how did you.....?
"How did I get back in here so quickly without being seen? What are you? An idiot? There's a back door of course. It's code. Now hand over that pillow you've got hidden in your jumper. No disrespect, but you're obviously too old to be pregnant".
Sheepishly I pull it out and hand it to him. He pats it absently with his long fingers as if he had missed it, all the while holding me in his penetrating gaze "Yes", he finally says, "Rather as I expected.... a stupid patriotic American from north of Boston, obviously involved in some kind of ridiculous fan forum".
I gasp in shock. "How could you tell that?"
"Stupid for sneaking into my flat of all places. And even more stupid to come back and try again. This had "prank" written all over it - a particularly ridiculous American conceit - and you're obviously patriotic considering the calendar date, and the emblem on the little "gift" you left here. Besides, there's a mustard stain at the corner of your mouth from your traditional 4th of July hot dog. I can tell you're from north of Boston by your jumper (sweater I believe you Americans call it) which is made of a particular kind of fleece made only at Marston Mills, one of the few remaining textile factories in northern Massachusetts. You left some of the fibers on the floor last night and I was able to easily trace them. And of course I can tell you are a member of a fan forum by your hands"
"My hands!!!"
"Yes, your fingers to be more precise. Just look at them. All knotted up and deformed with arthritis from excessive keyboard typing of long winded comments and "most recent posts" checking. It's obvious you're obsessed. I noticed the scratches around my door lock from you clumsy break-in attempt last night and surmised the poor condition of your hands. I suggest you seek psychiatric help immediately."
"Err, well yes" I manage to stammer, "I've been thinking about doing just that". I'm now ready to sink through the floor boards in embarrassment. "So, if you don't mind, I'll just take my American pillow and leave now. Sorry to bother you and all that. It was a really stupid thing to do."
"Wait! Hold on just a moment," he commands. He points to my pillow still adorning the other arm chair. "My uh.....friend, John, actually found that pillow rather comfortable last night. He said it made his leg feel better - or maybe it was his shoulder - I can never remember which. So, if you don't mind I'd like to keep it. For some strange reason I find I enjoy making that man happy".
I nod my approval as he rises and places the Union Jack right next to the Stars and Stripes together in the same chair. They look lovely side by side - the colors blending as if they had always belonged together. I find I'm grinning from ear to ear at that perfect union and notice that the great man too has something of a lopsided smile on his face.
Finally he looks at me and says, "No need to rush out I would think. The fireworks are over now aren't they? Why don't you stay for a bit. It does get rather lonely when John isn't here. I'll have Mrs. Hudson bring us up a bit of that Victoria sponge and some tea. You'll never find a better housekeeper in all of London. Now sit down and tell me all about this Forum of yours. Whatever do you talk about all day long?"
Too much fun, KP.
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It was fun. I think everyone here should try writing a "virtual meeting" or "caper" with Sherlock and/or John and really let your imaginations run wild. I guess it's a kind of fan fic.
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Molly Hooper wrote:
AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1,000th post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Congratulations, Molls! You definitely qualify as an official blogger (or, at least, official forumer)...
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You should start that thread, KP.
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Well, back to the national stereotypes .
I think people all over the world consider the Russians to be alcoholics. Also they think we are as lazy as people can be))).