[The Observer]

ooooerrrr! :D

Sandy Shaw

[The Observer]

Labi Sifri

[The Observer]

Not if you are still holding that knife!

What I meant to say was, I am wasted on this thread.

[The Observer]

@rivet wrote:

I should be in this category really..

.there must have been some kind of artistic oversight….please remedy this immediately

many thanks

Well you make me laugh.

[The Observer]

Sian, you are wasted on this thread

[The Observer]

@poshy wrote:

Guy: I think it was, “Blessed are the cheesemakers.”
Other Guy: Ahh, what’s so special about cheesemakers?
Guy: Well, obviously this is not meant to be taken literally. It refers to any manufacturers of dairy products.

:lol: :lol: :lol:

(Monty Python – Life of Brian)

Ah, I see you love a bit of cheese :mrgreen:

You may be interested in this

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A brief synopsis (ok briefish):

Blessed Are the Cheesemakers is a warm and sweet romantic novel set in County Cork Ireland in Coolarney House, where some of the world’s foremost farmhouse cheese is produced. It has been owned and operated for generations by two families, the Corrigans, who supply the cows for the milk and the Feehans, who supply the cheesemaking ability. The last two denizens of these families, both named Joseph, are getting up there in years and need someone, preferably family to take over the operations of the farmhouse. Their cheeses are known throughout the world, a fact that they chalk up to their consummate cheesemaking ability and good pastures for the cows. They also use a special “breed” of milkmaid. They only hire young women…who all happen to be pregnant…and vegetarians…and no joke, are able to sing songs from “The Sound of Music” for hours on end. Personally I think anyone who can make it through “The Lonely Goatherd” more than once in a lifetime is candidate for sainthood, let alone doing it surrounded by a herd of cows.

Lynch has peopled her novel with a slew of eccentric characters, charming, but more than a little overdrawn. The cheesemakers, known as Corrie and Fee, have to find someone to take over the business and pin their hopes on Corrie’s granddaughter, Abbey. Never mind the fact that she lives on a South Pacific island with her megalomaniac adulterous husband, and that she hasn’t spoken to her grandfather in over 20 years, they believe she will come. You almost expect Kevin Costner and James Earl Jones to start playing baseball in the mists of County Cork. At the other side of the universe sits Kit Stephens, a recently widowed New York investment banker. Despondent over his wife’s death, Kit drowns his sorrows in barrels of Grey Goose vodka and is summarily fired from his tony Wall Street firm. Luckily, Kit’s plucky Irish secretary knows just the place for him to dry out and reconnoiter, a certain farm where they make a certain type of cheese.

Fee, whose abilities not only lie in making cheese but also in wise prognostication, decides that Kit and Abbey will be the ones to carry on the cheesemaking tradition, a fact that most readers will figure out by about page 20. Nevertheless, it’s not an easy road for the twosome and Fee has to haul out his sweet smelling, horrid tasting “love cheese” to bewitch the two soon-to-be-besotted. Births, a death, and the opening up of family secrets are all bumps on the road to true love.

The story is predictable but sweet, and even a little spicy in some spots. Lynch has a warm spot for her characters, right down to the three farm cats who are named “Jesus,” “Mary,” and “All The Saints.” It’s really the characters’ story, the cheese as much as the people. As Fee says, when asked about a man’s state of mind, “In my experience there’s not a state in the world…that cannot be greatly improved by close proximity to cheese.” Amen and pass the Brie.

Those Irish can sure churn them out.

[The Observer]

@rivet wrote:

@rainbowbrite wrote:

The hallway, its the only place where you get lorra lorra length….

8)

good grief, and there was i thinking you were all sweetness and the virginal type….how wrong a person can be….

She could be into making ropes! You need a long room for that, at least as long as the intended rope length. I think the term is ropery…..a bit like this thread.

[The Observer]

@*Sian* wrote:

@topgun wrote:

how dare you tell me to shut up you make fun of idiot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHUT IT!!! Re e tard………..

Pikey I loved that wanky film :lol:

You couldn’t possibly mean this wanky movie surely?

[The Observer]

@giggles wrote:

:lol: :lol: :lol:

apparently thats some colourful clown :wink:

Is it? :lol:

Apparently life is a 3 ring circus and I have only experienced 2 of them. One to go and then death! :lol: :twisted:

[The Observer]

@giggles wrote:

@pikey wrote:

:lol: And gardening is the new rock’n’roll. Especially when done in leather chaps and a nice studded choker.

times like this I wish I had a garden :lol:

You just want to be the hoe in the border region :wink:

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