Monday, February 25, 2008

Is it stranger to be homesick for a port town in Scotland in which you only lived two years or to ameliorate the condition with a puerile, but entertaining, book about junkies? I do miss my Saturday morning full Scottish at the community centre.

Friday, February 22, 2008

The likeness is uncanny and I do happen to have jars of pickled cabbage and vitriol near my desk.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

My three rules of life:

1) Whatever it is, don't put it up your ass1. You'd be surprised how many people do not follow this simple rule. I guarantee if you do a search in Google news for the word rectum, you will see someone dealing with the consequences of not respecting this simple rule.

2) It is always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. This rule guides most of my professional activities and is most helpful when dealing with jobworths2.

3) You should always have three rules.

1I got this one from S_ who is an endless fount of wisdom.

2Most useful British-English word ever.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Liao Yiwu

Read him.

Saturday, February 09, 2008

Observations of pets as I went to the vet

I took my cat to the vet the other day. I happily strolled beneath the clear blue sky of a London winter day carrying Cat in his plastic grey carrier. He silently watched and sniffed at the new surroundings beyond its wire door.

I became very excited to see a Border Collie driving a car, but then remembered the steering wheel is on the starboard side in this country.

I also noticed that there is one street corner where someone leaves their dog's bags of shit. That's the 'burbs for you. They don't want to be seen not picking up the shit of their animals—keeping up appearances and all that. So, they scoop that little hot turd into their plastic baggied hand and carry it off, but they still don't give a fuck about anyone. So, they look over both shoulders and drop it on the pavement to squelch beneath the £300 shoes of a jogger or wheel of a Bugaboo pram.

I get to the vet. Cat gets his check up. Cat is mellow. He's not fussed by much. Then it's thermometer time. The vet holds him. Cat is not amused but is abiding. Then temperature is taken. The cats eyes go wide. The ears go up. Then, I swear, he gets a beaten, humiliated look on his face. He looks disgusted. He can't believe his little cat ass and cat dignity had been violated. I apologised profusely when we left, but I fear his cat retribution will be swift and smell of ammonia.