Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Making Waves at HOP Snr
At last, a reason to live. I’ve just finished reading Tim Winton’s Breath. In the last few weeks I’ve waded through a sludge of awful Australian novels. I’ve near enough drowned in bottomless quagmires of syrupy metaphors. There is only so much I can take of being told the sky/land/sea is very like something related to food/sex/madness. I’ve all but choked on prize-directed worthiness and been conned into taking gratuitous side trips to London or New York serving no other purpose than to woo the UK or US market. Rubbish writers please note – I do not require you to actually have been to these places, you do however, have to make me believe you are taking me there. A little less reliance on the London Underground map and a little more on the imagination s’il vous plait, my time is precious.
'Some risks it would seem are beyond respecting. Meanwhile, everyone is terrified that this whatever life has become, is it. And what’s worse is it’ll be over soon.'
'Now I knew there was no room left in my life for stupid risks. Death was everywhere – waiting, willing, undiminished. It would always be coming for me and mine and I told myself, I could no longer afford the thrill of courting it.'
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The House of Pants Snr lily pond
I suspect I’m experiencing a kind of madness. It’s not normal to think everyone hates you, is it? No doubt I’ll look back on these days as something of a watershed, or perhaps just a therapeutic cold shower. It’s not that I’m having a bad time in
Each morning I jog down to the waterfront. Whereas being overtaken by highly competitive power-walking retirees with orthopaedic straps holding their thighs together is not great for one’s self-esteem, I find I’m able to lose myself in my own thoughts semi-indefinitely. These largely comprise imagining that I’d had an entirely different life. There is little else to do in
Who needs a stimulating media? When I left this country to go and live in
‘Battler’ is a peculiarly Australian term meaning a person on a low income. It assumes of course that everyone who falls into this category is doing their utmost to contribute to economic growth. If you are surviving perfectly happily on little money and covet nothing, you are not a ‘battler’ and furthermore, you should be ashamed of yourself because you have no ambition. I have not quite come to grips with inflationary theory yet. No one ever bothers with it in
Since I have little else with which to concern myself now, I often gratefully surrender to whichever form of external entertainment chooses to fling itself across my path. I am very much looking forward to catching the new Harrison Ford film - Indiana Jones and the Lost Superannuation. Ma P and I often gorge on Bollockbusters DVDs on Cheap Chewsday when you can get four for $8. We have enjoyed such thrill-packed senior filmic moments as Die Hard 4 – Of Natural Causes and Rocky V – A Bout of Flu. Who would have guessed that the only people with jobs for life in the twenty-first century would be newsreaders and action heroes? Apart from the fact that I have been John Malkovich for the last three days, I think I’m doing just fine…
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Ken Livingstone and Boris Johnson - Mayors of London
I’m not being perverse but I like Boris. He’s an idiot, a classic Tory upper class twit. But he’s by no means unintelligent and, if you read his newspaper columns, he can make a refreshingly weird kind of sense.
Ken Livingstone was a great mayor. As I’ve said before I’m one of those people who felt the top job in the reinstated Greater London Authority was his by right and if his name had not appeared on the ballot paper in 2000, I would have written it in myself and put a big cross beside it. When Labour refused to endorse him as its candidate and he stood as an independent, London cocked its collective snook at the puppeteers and voted him in, prompting his expulsion from the party. Four years on it was begging him to come back and not because the lost love had been miraculously rekindled. It was more a case of my enemy’s enemy is my friend. It’s therefore ironic that he’s now being presented as the first election casualty of Gordon ‘Scrooge McDuck’ Brown’s disastrous leadership. But that’s politics. It rears up and bites you on the bum eventually.
After a while, people get bored with incumbent politicians and want a change. Ken had eight years this time around and five in the eighties as leader of the GLC. In fact for the last twenty-seven years when there has been a boss of