Month: January 2002

Sometimes, other people write with far greater eloquence than I could muster if I tried for a whole week. Tom did that today.

Aren’t you glad that you’re not related to Osama bin Laden?

I’m hooked. via LMG.

And another thing: where do those silly transparent plastic headscarves that ladies of pensionable age wear on days like today come from? I have *never* seen them for sale.

It’s one of those mornings that nature created in order to deceive the unwary. At the moment, I can see that it is bright, sunny and beautiful outside. However, I happen to know (because I’ve been watching) that it threw down hail just twenty minutes ago. I can also see another large black cloud looming its way through the blue from the northwest as I sit here typing this, pondering what level of clothing is appropriate for my expedition to the bank, shops and pub (yep, in the pub again already, but on a legitimate lunch mission).
I’m still tired this morning, in spite of a reasonably good night’s sleep. I got to bed at around one o’clock after a slightly strange conversation on MSN, but I forgot to switch off my alarm, so had some dirge on Radio 1 blaring out at 6:59. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, I was disturbed again by the road sweeper working its way past my windows (my front door is only 18 inches from the kerb, so as it passes the whole building shakes and the letterbox and door knocker rattle). Once that noise had subsided into the distance, I was woken again by the postman, delivering a highly exciting Council Tax single occupancy declaration form (no love letters, no postcards from people on foreign holidays, no exciting packages from Amazon, not even an invitation to enter an amazing prize draw from Readers’ Digest ("You May Have Already Won!!!"), not even a bill).
So I gave up on the sleep idea, and turned on the radio to listen to the cricket commentary for a while (listening to Jonathan Agnew painting pictures with words, describing the stadium in Calcutta with its three tiers of seating on all sides as creating an atmosphere that is "like playing cricket in the bottom of an enormous soup bowl"), before running a deep bath and wallowing in it for a while.
I think I’ve psyched myself up for the day now, having had breakfast, cleaned the bathroom, sorted out some laundry and poked about online for a while. I feel a bit more prepared to tackle the day, and whatever bizarre things destiny has lined up for me.
Do you ever get that feeling? The feeling that your life is becoming more bizarre and absurd by the day, or even by the hour? When I look back over the last eighteen months or so, there is no doubt in my mind that my life is becoming absurd and slightly peculiar. I’m not sure I could exactly define in what way it is becoming so, and I’m sure that if I was to look at things objectively, I’d probably decide that it isn’t really that strange at all. But it *feels* strange, and has certainly been including some experiences that, eighteen months ago, I wouldn’t have dreamt of.
Perhaps that is why I feel this strong need to find a metaphorical (and human) rock to anchor myself to.

Beer tonight with Paul F, Malcolm, Arron, Julie, Caroline, Julie and Fi, with sightings of Gary, Teresa, another Sally and several other people. So tired now.

hmmm. I’m probably setting a dangerous precedent here. But anyway…
I’ve been sent an email by “Manic” of Bloggerheads, promoting his Buy Pretzels for the President page. And I thought it was amusing, so I’m linking it.

so, last night I saw Little Otik. What a strange, strange film. Plot summary: a childless and infertile couple are digging in the garden and find a tree stump that looks like a baby. They choose to adopt it, and through their love the stump comes to life. It then proceeds to eat everything it sees.
I think Bren and Greg were a bit fazed by it. At the end of it, you were simply left with a dazed feeling and the thought that “that was completely barking mad!” The fact that the film is a combination of live action and animation enhances that feeling – there is no attempt to hide the bizarreness of the story by trying to use CGI to make the wooden baby more lifelike.
It is possibly just a little too long at two hours, but I’d recommend it to anyone who can enjoy a completely bizarre and strange story presented in a spare and stark manner.

tonight – Little Otik with Greg and Brenda, followed by beer with Greg, Brenda, Arron, Kearn, DA and DAGS. Too tired to write more.

I’ve also found out who my Secret Santa was – none other than our very own Cal Henderson. Thank you, and happy birthday!