... of the seven deadly sins, the eighth and most horrid is emotional blackmail ... whilst for this blogger, the only sacred thing is life itself
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Travel broadens the mind, some say ...
I once travelled all night on a train from Paris Austerlitz to Narbonne and then went to a bar just opposite the station to wait for some friends to collect me.
It was just before seven and still dark. There were two other customers standing at
the bar, taxi drivers so burly they made me seem fairy-like.
The barman was of a similar stature to his clients, but had
chosen to wear a low cut blouse and a blonde wig which, with an application of
copious amounts of theatrical make-up, seemed to signify that he wished he had
been born as Brigitte Bardot’s identical twin.
Never again will I be astonished by the Triumph of Hope over Adversity.
Never again will I be astonished by the Triumph of Hope over Adversity.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
george collinson and lea velez, man and wife
george has been ill for a number of years
lea posted the following statement yesterday
George sigue en Puerta de Hierro. Tiene varios tumores en el cerebro. Recuerdo cuando montaba en la montaña rusa y el carro subía y subía aquella empinada cuesta que te dejaba el estómago encogido con la anticipación de la inevitable caída
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
maybe i'm just a sentimental old fool ....
but i still laugh out loud remembering the first time i saw this while i was waiting for the kettle at seven in the morning in phoenix
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oF5cBoAV5Ys&feature=relmfu
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oF5cBoAV5Ys&feature=relmfu
Friday, August 26, 2011
shameless
Three lads swaggered on to the homeward bus yesterday afternoon, making plenty of noise. Whilst the two fifteen year-olds repeatedly shouted out their determination never to allow any white woman ( there were about ten white women on the bus ) to “S*** M* D***”, the sixteen year-old and loudest took out his phone and began an even louder conversation with “a friend”, the subject of which was a change in Metropolitan Police’s prosecuting procedures in Magistrates’ Courts.
At first It was difficult to follow the conversation because everything was gabbled in a highly streamlined kind of playground talk, but it became possible to distil some meaning because everything was repeated at least four times, partly because he had trouble saying and conveying what he meant, and possibly because the other person was as daft as he and had a similar attention span.
The gist of the twenty minute communication was that he had just been released by the police after 24 hours at the station helping them with their enquiries following a raid on his family home. Some of their mutual friends and neighbours, who had been raided on the same day, had been remanded in custody.
What he had learned during the process was that the Met are determinedly changing their procedures with petty criminals and are recording every alleged offence as well as previous convictions, and are presenting the magistrates with more detailed lists of previous form, arrests, acquittals, taggings, etc, whenever new cases come up. This means that his list of misdemeanours has suddenly grown much longer and he is in certain danger of being remanded in custody as and when he next gets himself in to trouble.
What he hadn’t learned … it seemed to me, by implication, because he never mentioned the possibility … is that this might be a very good time to change his life-style and stop being a bad boy.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
3BT 25th August 2011
At second glance, the bus load of passive or expressionless schoolgirls leaving Gatwick Airport at seven in the morning turns in to a bus load of jet-lagged Malaysian air hostesses.
After a morning of tropically heavy rainstorms, I pause on my round to stand in a kind of bower, the shady canopy of a small plum tree, and I select one perfect purple plum, whose tender sweetness closes my eyes involuntarily like a kiss and transports my whole being back in to childhood.
Seen from the homeward bus at Clapham Junction, two women, with identical straight blond hair held by elastic bands in short pony-tails, kiss. One is only five feet tall and stretches upwards on tip toe, whilst the other is about six feet two and bends only very very slowly until their lips touch at last.
The Reform Tavern at Thornton Heath
i went to what might reasonably have been described as a tory grammar school in a small country town ... the various Reform Acts were never mentioned
http://www.historyhome.co.uk/peel/refact/refmod.htm
I don't suppose Peel or Wellington would have enjoyed the present landlord's karaoke nights
Monday, August 22, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
trouble at mill ...
Early in the day I must drive twenty miles out of my way because our pickers forgot the chutney yesterday for the chef at a posh country hotel who is doing a wedding feast later this morning. All of my other customers must wait.
Except one. He would have been the last of the day but I will now drive past his deli and he is already in there. When I nip in with his box, four hours early, he is at first delighted and then utterly crestfallen. Our pickers have sent provolone dolce, an innocuous white cheese, instead of dolcelatte, a strong and salty blue cheese. He has twenty four cheese boards to arrange for someone else’s wedding. I rack my brains and then drive thirty miles to a friendly wholesaler who very kindly lends me the right cheese, and back again. All of my other customers must wait.
Eventually, when I get back in to the yard two hours late and slump over the wheel before I begin to re-arrange the paperwork, there is a movement at the periphery of my vision and I look up see my rosy-cheeked manager giving me a cheery wave as he shoots off for a fortnight’s holiday. Grrr, just you wait until my psychiatrist hears about this.
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