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I took the photograph opposite from a kitchen window in Herne Hill this evening. I don't normally do sunsets but I thought I would make an exception for this one-I may be mistaken, but you might even be able to make out the Houses of Parliament. The Sun looks more like exactly what it is, a nuclear explosion, but it almost reminds me of something by JMW Turner- click here for a view of The Fighting Temeraire to compare and contrast. I was in Herne Hill in deep and dark South London for a belated celebration of my ex-flatmate Catherine's current flatmate's (does that make me us some sort of flatmates-in-law?) birthday. Here I am with Ruslan, who has actually seen this website already! I don't know why but I appear to be adopting the hunched-sit-on-the-edge-of-the-sofa pose favoured by my late grandmother. I've had to lighten the photo artificially as the flash didn't work- I was sold some dud batteries, I think. I was accused by Catherine of looking like Martin Bell in my white(ish) suit- I told her that I had bought it from a second-hand shop in Sarajevo, and she believed me for about 0.2 seconds.It was a gentle,relaxed, evening, and I'm glad to report that I didn't disgrace myself with any Ginger Man- type behaviour as happened in February (click here to read a report of my shame). The earlier part of the day was just as restful: I tried to summon up some interest in the Cup Final, but nearly fell asleep on the sofa. I did have a rather tiring dream, though: for some reason I was running a Polling Station in my bedroom, and everything was going rather wrong- the ballot box was full of my clothes, there was a huge queue of voters stretching down the landing, and then Edward Heath turned up. He seemed rather annoyed with the mess I had created.. I may cause less damage to humanity when I'm asleep, but it is rather more confusing |
| A webmaster meets his public |
| I just thought that I would add the opposite to today's entry, as I'm not likely to be allowed to forget it by the Reicheconazigruppenschwesterfuhrerin. I've just been accused of causing a flood out of Genesis last week in the kitchen, so I have been entreatied not to do the same in the bathroom tonight. Much gnashing of teeth. Oh, the joys of flatsharing - and Clanger appears to have avoided being put on the rota again. Otherwise, it's been a quiet day- I got up late for the nth Sunday in a row, but I did manage to finish The Tin Drum. I'm not going to embarrass myself by adding it to my Recent Reads, but it all got a little too confusing by the end for poor old me. Click on the book to see what others think of it. |
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| The cleaning of the bathroom has not been hailed as a great success by the Reicheconazigruppenschwesterfuhrerin Leila, and I fear the imminent arrival of Kim & Aggie to our humble abode in general and my room in particular. I arrived at work late again after another in the series of Tolkeinesque battles of good against evil that is the daily journey on the tube. I am still in employment so Friday's animation has obviously yet to hit the internet in full force. Just like the rest of this website. Just in case you think that I have been giving Ealing too hard a time of late, during lunchtime I paid homage to Ealing Studios, where such divine comedies as Kind Hearts and Coronets, and The Ladykillers, two of my most favourite films were made. Forget Sir Alec Guiness as Obi-wan-kenobi and all that "let the force be with you"nonsense, but as eight members of the soon-to-be murdered D'Ascoyne family, and as Professor Markkus in the perfect The Ladykillers, he truly excells. It is, however, no surprise at all to learn that the Americans have butchered the latter in a Tom Hanks remake. Will they never learn? Click on the picture for Ealing Studios' own site, and on the motiff below for more on the Ealing Comedies, courtesy of the British Film Institute |
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| Sometimes on the Tube it's best not to delve too deep into the existential mire, or to try and appear too erudite by even touching the books that others have read, and it pays just to read something unchallenging, but entertaining. I've read some decent stuff lately: Jonathan Coe's What a Carve up!, JG Farrell's Troubles, and Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex, but The Best a Man Can Get by John o'Farrell reads like one of those two-part thirtysomething vehicles that invade our TV screens. It's OK, though, although there are a few old joks in it , and the twist in the penultimate chapter is a little too obvious. That said, I laughed out loud at Acton Town today at this synopsis of a suggested "compilation novel" from the book: The action starts in the Wessex town of Casterbridge when the mayor wakes up and notices that he has turned into a beetle. Now Mrs Bennett decides that he would no longer make a suitable husband for her daughter Molly Bloom ao she escapes from the attic where she was imprisoned by Rocherster and sets fire to Manderley. "The horror, the horror!" exclaims Heathcliff as the white whale drags Little Nell beneath the waves to a tragic death, and Tom Jones sits alone in the garden of Bachester Towers knowing he had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother. Click on the book for reviews. If it makes you laugh in Acton though,that has to be a good thing |
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