Some wedding photos have turned up…
…and BLISS has hardly changed (she claims otherwise, but I
can’t see it, myself). The question is who’s the skinny dude in the suit all
over in every picture?
There’s some moaning about the scheduling…
…of the one day cricket internationals with Australia, with
one played and two rained off, but the moaners are forgetting recent weather
patterns. We’re as likely to cop a day’s downpour any given of the year as any
other.
BLISS’ guide to the orchestra, part one…
…trumpets are ‘in your face’ and violins are ‘nice’. There
may be more to follow.
I’ve ordered the latest Pynchon from the local library
service…
…they’re awaiting stocks at the moment. Their online search
tool seems blissfully unaware of a small thing called the Booker Prize. Serving
an ageing population, I guess. I’d search on Archer to see if that does better,
if it wasn’t for the shame.
I just got a sudden bit of nostalgia for the days of
Spitting Image and The New Statesman, and Rick Mayal as Alan B’astard:
Asked for some blackmail money to hush up a scandal,
B’astard yelled “an Archer? That’s two thousand pounds!” (The amount in the
brown envelope Archer had handed to prostitute Monica Coghlan).
We need some Spitting Image type programming…
…right now. Let along self-effacing or irreverent, our
current administration appears to lack any sense of humour whatsoever (another
Maggie legacy – let’s face it, even her staunchest supporters can’t deny that
she wasn’t blessed in that department). As such, they deserve the sort of good
kicking those rubber caricatures used to deliver.
International football…
…is still football, and therefore better than (almost)
anything else. But whereas international rugby and international cricket remain
the pinnacle of the games and maintain interest and quality, I can’t help
longing, during the international breaks to the season, for ‘proper’ football
to return.
D the Dog…
…has a spanking new harness thing. Predictably, he doesn’t
like it much.
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