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*Soviet Sexpot* · 04-16-2025, 02:45 PM

starting chirps mid week has me behind the eight ball, usually done by now.

*Soviet Sexpot* · 04-16-2025, 02:45 PM

just waiting for this work day to end in an hour or so.

schotte74 · 04-16-2025, 03:04 PM

What's wrong with Sony again? Making me subsidy pay?!

Bingo97 · 04-16-2025, 03:17 PM

Finishing Chirps up for the week

Bingo97 · 04-16-2025, 03:17 PM

and NHL are wrapping up their season in the next day

oknom · 04-16-2025, 03:23 PM

SKREEEEEE

oknom · 04-16-2025, 03:24 PM

CHOMP CHOMP Barracuda

Le Thrill · 04-16-2025, 03:50 PM

Alright I gotta chirp

Le Thrill · 04-16-2025, 03:51 PM

Alright, I can stop chirping

*FaraDian* · 04-16-2025, 03:58 PM

04-15-2025, 11:02 AMFaraDian Wrote: ‘If that’s being queer, then we could do with a bit more queerness in these parts. There’s some not far away that wouldn’t offer a pint of beer to a friend, if they lived in a hole with golden walls. But they do things proper at Bag End. Our Sam says that everyone’s going to be invited to the party, and there’s going to be presents, mark you, presents for all – this very month as is.’

That very month was September, and as fine as you could ask. A day or two later a rumour (probably started by the knowledgeable Sam) was spread about that there were going to be fireworks – fireworks, what is more, such as had not been seen in the Shire for nigh on a century, not indeed since the Old Took died.

Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking waggon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. It was driven by outlandish folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End. At the end of the second week in September a cart came in through Bywater from the direction of Brandywine Bridge in broad daylight. An old man was driving it all alone. He wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through Hobbiton and right up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly guessed. At Bilbo’s front door the old man began to unload: there were great bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red G and an elf-rune.