Saturday, 27 September 2014

To Cut or To Cutlery

I was in the midst of washing up the used plates and dishes when for some reason I wondered where the word Cutlery came from.

My thoughts on this was the fact that some of the cut. I assume that the first forms of cutlery would have been solely knives, as cutting would have been more essential than anything else in my opinion. Another reason I think that the word cutlery for the stuff we know today would have come about, is because it isn't only the knife that cuts. Forks and Spoons may be used to pick up bits of food, but they were also cutting a section of food off from another just by moving it away.

For example, take a body of rice. If I was to use a fork or spoon and take up a bit, I would be severing their bond as part of the collective group of rice. Not exactly like how a knife literally severs the join, but still along the same lines. In that way, surely the title Cutlery, would make perfect sense for all three?

Now, we all know Wikipedia isn't the holy gospel on knowledge, as it can be edited by anyone and everyone. But it basically states that the word is derived from other languages that give it the meaning knife. As generally Cutlery does refer to cutting instruments used in the preparation or eating of food, this makes sense.

Wikipedia Extract - (The word cutler derives from the Middle English word 'cuteler' and this in turn derives from Old French 'coutelier' which comes from 'coutel'; meaning knife (modern French: couteau).)

Silverware, hardware and tableware are the terms used in the US.

Basically, each title had its own problems, as tableware was brought in to get around the fact that not all silverware was actually silver.

I preferred my thoughts on the matter, but hey. Learned something.

Tuesday, 23 September 2014

Words of the Day #1

So, I wanted to start gearing my mind toward taking in more information and holding it. Since I'm currently in the middle of practise drawings to regain my base skills then improve on them for my manga (will be showing you some practise drawings in the days to come), I thought that this could be another way to use my blog.

Sharing words I find interesting.

Well, todays words can be related to the generic form of manga in its more simplified colour version of black, white and grey.

These definitions have been obtained from the Oxford Dictionaries. However, anything in red writing will be my examples or thoughts.

1. Achromat

A lens that transmits light without separating it into constituent colours.

2. Achromatic

Relating to, using, or denoting lenses that transmit light without separating it into constituent colours.

3. Achromic

Having no colour except black, white and grey.

I thought it would be better to go with words to do with the same thing, so you would get to understand the different angles, instead of three completely separate words with no link. Well, that was concerning this time. Next time, I may possibly have three entirely different words.

Thursday, 4 September 2014

Account Update

Just a head up.

Table Top Revolution has moved to a new account now, as I wanted something that I could allow people to contact me without filling up my main inbox which I need to sort through for job interviews etc.

The new url is now and the email is

What will Nathan's Fiction Sphere be doing?

Well, now I'm going to try pick up the pace properly with variations between photography, graphic design, writing, drawing etc.

I look forward to seeing you all again, and those who were just interested in Table top gaming, please follow the new account.

Thank You

Monday, 7 July 2014

Re-kindled Determination

With a Pokémon gaming project running through planning stages and testing for the Table Top Revolution blog site, I thought it'd be great to try and do something to help revitalise this blog. I go through bouts of reading, as projects such as gaming, photography, writing, come up. I have also not been writing any short stories here for a while now as well, though I shall start doing that again soon.

My plan is to try and do a comic. I've attempted doing a comic before. Just one chapter of one though. It was tough going, but I was extremely pleased with what I produced when I put my mind to it. This was back during college, and after reading many mangas (Japanese comics) I just had to try do one myself.

Today, I'll let you view the outcome of this try by posting that one chapter I did. I hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment.

(Reads left to right)

If I had continued, I'm sure the next chapter would have been longer and bring a true story to life. The name for this comic was going to be Savage Blood. An action, possibly martial arts genre.

Well, with this new found determination, I'll once again undertake doing a manga, but this time, try and make at least 10 chapters.

Thursday, 3 July 2014

Cinnabar Moth

I've been working out in the garden lately, as I'm adding in a flowerbed border, as well as sorting out some really terrible paving. This is all mainly due to the place having been mostly left to its own devices whilst the property awaited someone to rent it.

Though we've been living here for what will be a year in September, I haven't really gotten round to adding my own touch to it. It's been hard going, but I've got about half the work done on the flowerbeds themselves, but still have weeding, gravel moving, out skirting, and more paving to do. Due to not wanting to spend too much on this, especially after ordering 52 cement side skirting's, I've basically been using slabs I've been finding under the dirt whilst digging.

It's actually coming along nicely, despite the fact that because I'm not using cement, the paving is a bit easy to unsettle. Prior, you couldn't tell that there was just broken paving and a whole load of dirt. I don't want my young son to hurt himself, so I used the dug up slabs to refit this area, and have put in a muddy slush to fill the gaps. I'm hoping that over time it will manage to keep itself together. Weeds and so on were holding the minute bits together prior to this.

Anyway, I'm drifting off on a different topic. What I wanted to talk about is the beautiful moth that keeps visiting the garden. I love its colouring, it's absolutely wonderful. I searched it up, and its a Cinnabar Moth. Lovely.

I feel quite honoured to have it in my garden. I was a bit shocked when it brushed passed by face though. As anyone would be I believe.

Anyway, back to preparations for Pokémon.

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

Maggie's Leg

Maggie ambled along toward the wooden chair in the half packed waiting room at her local GP. She favoured her right leg heavily as she moved along with a slight limp, balancing herself as best she could on a beautifully carved oak walking stick. As she took a vacant seat, she let out an audible sigh, her two hands resting on the lacquered crow head that served as the grasping section of the staff. Her body was slumped forward, though her heavy frame almost disguised the slouch in posture.

"Doctors running late again," tisked an elderly lady next to her. Her face was graced with the lines of age and experience. She wore her fading blak hai down in a short crop, hidng the sides of her neck, but leaving the front open for all to see the double bulge that drooped from the upper section. The lady was slight of frame, so Maggie had no illusions of it being extra fat. It was simply that her skin had become more elasticated with age, and certain areas were were affected more drastically than others.

"Aren't they always," replied Maggie, swivelling her foot as if it pained her. There were some who voiced their agreement.

"Not alwas, my dear," said the old lady. "It's been more recently that they've started running late. When I first joined up..." Maggie stopped her with the clearing of her throat and a raised hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, physically showing the effort it took to stand back up. "I've just come from my appointment. I have muscle problems with my leg." She indicated her left leg with her eyes. "Was just having a quick rest before the journey home."

"Oh... oh, yes deary. Sorry," replied the old lady, seeing Maggie already moving through the door before she'd even finished.

The hallway was cramp, and a young man had to backpeddle out of the way as Maggie entered. She didn't offer any thanks, but turned to head through the second door. Eyes rolling in admonishment of the unjistification of sectioning off the reception area, she pushed the door to, and limped through, budging the door back open with her rear as it closed in on her before she'd even managed to get halfway through.

An oak door, thicker in frame than the previous two, signalled the extrance and exit. Six rectangle glass panels, neatly aligned in rows of two, were slotted into its design, filtering light into the room alongside the windows. A bucket, pale green, and empty, rested below a waist height table. 'Umbrellas' was cellotaped onto its side on surprsingly untarnished paper. Maggie didn't pay any of it any note however as she moved with as much haste as she could manage, and walked out into the cold afternoon air.

"It's nice being able to push you around sometimes," smiled a a young woman pushing a man in a wheelchair. She had auburn hair and from the distance, Maggie couldn't tell if the things she suspected to be freckles, really were.

"That's what you always say, Hilary," replied the man, receiving a light hearted chuckle in response.

They moved out of view as Maggie turned the corner, but snippets of conversation still reached her ears until she'd walked several more steps. Her house was coming up now, which was just as well. Her limp really exhausted her, and both legs, as well as her arm, were becoming sore. As she reached the unusual lilac painted door, she reached into her jacket pocket for some keys. A second later, they were jangling around as she fiddled with the doorlock.

With a squeak on unoiled hinges, the door opened in, and she pushed it further so she could walk through the space provided. She breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed the threshhold into her house and shut the door behind her. The sigh was much like the one she'd released in the GP surgery, but longer and louder. Letters about disability benefits went unopened, laying where they fell as they came through the letterbox. The beautifully carved walking stick fell into its usual lean against the cream painted hallway wall, as Maggie strode quickly to the front room, limp forgotten.

As she sighted the tv, her eyes alighted with intent. Lining herself up with her favourite sofa, she plopped down heavily into it. Untying her laces, she kicked both sandels off her feet. She pulled a cushioned stool over, and threw her legs up onto it. A can of Pepsi rested on a metal square coffee table to her left, and she picked it up. Her other hand had already sought out the television remote on the armrest of the chair, pressing the standby button that would flare the screen into life. Jeremy Kyle was on, and she smiled, popping the can open and taking a swig.

Maggie was a careful woman. Outside the house, she was slow, saddened with pain and easily exhausted from her days trials. Inside, she was full of life. She often closed the curtains, incase any prying eyes should happen to see her. Still, she'd managed to fool the doctors and the benefit system for this long, and had no doubt she'd be able to continue.

Tuesday, 10 June 2014

His Nails - Short Story

I almost gagged when I saw the grimy muck that lay vaguely concealed underneath his fingernails. Yellowy brown in colour, I paused in breath as a putrid odour wafted into my noise, his fingers drawing close then retracting as he spoke about some sort of comic book character he was designing. The topic was lost on me as all I could think of was 'What in the hell was beneath those nails'?.

Smiling, hiding my ill-ease at the state of his unkempt nails, we both took our seats at the coffee table. It wasn't just the two of us, and soon Andrew and Pradeep took their seats too; finished ordering their own drinks at the counter. My disgust is hard to disguise as he brings one of the filthy objects of my distaste towards his mouth. Cringing, I turn my head as he bites down, chewing on their overly long length.

A Scandinavian woman, friendly faced and with a bubbly character, brings a tray with three hot chocolates and a cappuccino. When she returns with four milk chocolate rocky road cakes, we are reminded that we also purchased ourselves a snack. Andrew and Pradeep can't help but dig into the marshmallow topped piece of cake. He, however, goes for his hot chocolate. Though I agree with the drink taking priority, I find myself taking a sidelong glance at his fingers to see if any of the dirt has been shifted by a teeth straying too far under the surface of the nail.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen his nails in such a state. In fact, I don't remember ever seeing them in any other state. Sometimes I'd ask myself if he'd even washed those hands, then I dissuaded such unhygienic thoughts and disillusioned myself saying he probably just tended to handle things that were dirty. There were times, minute though they were, that I would even look at my own nails, smiling subconsciously at their short and clean state, whilst at others I'd worry unnecessarily over the long talons they'd become and whether I'd get back home in time to cut them before they, perhaps, turned out like his.

I queried again as I sat at the table 'What exactly was beneath those nails'? Could it be just dirt? Dead skin mixed with sweat? Feaces? Possibly paint, deceiving me? It was doubtful it was paint, as the smell just didn't fit. You don't get that sort of stench from paint. I looked at him as he filled his mouth with a gulp of hot chocolate, before popping a bite sized chunk of his cake in after. In ways I was glad that this was our last day together. We would part ways here and probably never meet again. I certainly didn't want to ever see those disgusting nails ever again.