Balkan Babble

AKA, or Alcoholics in Kuwait (Not So) Anonymous

2007-08-23T15:27:00.000Z

Kuwait is a country that is supposedly completely dry. We all knew that. Aside from the quota of alcohol permitted to all diplomats. Aside from the black market (fuelled in part by the quota permitted to diplomats) where I’m told a standard bottle of whisky goes for £160. Aside from school children drinking a type of widely available cologne called Jacksons mixed with anything else for their kicks. Aside from all the “underground bars” or even “nightclubs” you can find in rented villas/flats. Oh, and aside from the fact that in the biggest supermarkets, a few months before Christmas you can see shelves and shelves not so subtly stacked full of different varieties of grape juice - read: Homemade Wine, Château Desperate Times, with a bouquet slightly better than vinegar (but only slightly) aged in whatever type of plastic container/petrol can you have at hand.
Oh yes, and aside from the constant supply from the airport staff. I am reminded how once when I tried to smuggle a bottle of wine in, when it was found (bad luck) they tutted and they tisked and they grandiously declared they would have to throw it away. At this point they carefully placed the bottle in a beautifully clean “bin”. So imagine my amusement on seeing everyday in the biggest local English language newspaper:
Alcoholics Anonymous: AA can help with drinking problems. You are no longer alone.
More shockingly though, there are now several versions of Narcotics Anonymous advertised in the paper.
Now, if I was the Kuwaiti government, I would forget about focusing all my energy on the alcohol prohibition, and focus on dealing with narcotics abuse. Reliable sources tell me the coast guard alone captures on average 2 tonnes of drugs – PER DAY. That is only the coast guard, and only what they manage to catch. It is a highly dangerous phenomenon on an astronomical rise in particular among Kuwaiti youth. And considering about 75% of the Kuwaiti population is under 25, I would hurry. Just a thought.

PS. I am no longer in Kuwait. I am back in London. It is raining. A lot.

Why Did The Chicken Enter The Garage?

2007-08-11T21:25:00.000Z

There is a chicken living in my garage. Really. Perhaps a brief explanation is in order then perhaps you might assist in unravelling the mystery of the garage chicken. We live in a flat in a complex of four villas that have an underground garage, which is accessed through a card operated automatic garage door type thing. The only other possible access is from the pool, reached by going down approximately 20 steps and navigating through some spiky vegetation. The only other option is the chicken climbing up to the main entrances of the four separate villas and taking the elevator down to the garage. The area we live in is largely residential, with some schools. To my knowledge, none of the surrounding houses have chicken coups, and there are no chicken farms anywhere in the vicinity.
So although we are accustomed to garage cats, encountering the chicken in the garage was quite a surrealist and novel experience. Most puzzling is that this chicken has now been living in the garage for over three weeks (we think), without any obvious signs of anyone feeding it initially. At one point my adorable mother, a budding Dr. Doolittle who has a track record of converting our parking places in the garage into an animal shelter, decided the garage chicken has to be fed. She then proceeded to pull out a 3kg bag of millet or wheat grains from somewhere in the kitchen. (Why she had this in the first place is beyond me and on the list of other mysteries to be solved at some point.) Thus, though not knowing from whence this chicken came, what its purpose is, or how it has survived in the garage for so long, we have now adopted the garage chicken. The laying of any (toxic/carfumed) eggs shall be reported immediately. Watch this space.

Disclaimer: I am not hallucinating/seeing mirages in the desert/high/insane. No chickens have been harmed in the writing of this post.

Legal Eagle in Kuwait

2007-08-08T16:31:00.000Z

Quick update. As you all know I am in Kuwait over the summer. Since my last inane post I have started working for a law firm in Kuwait (a genius idea of mine, if I do say so myself, to do something useful with my summer), whose Managing Partner is the reason I decided to become a lawyer –the man is übercool personified. So far I have learnt more in four weeks than I did the entire year at law school. Or at least, to be fair, practice is an entirely different kind of education. I must confess, I think I am going to like being a practising lawyer despite the tediousness and repetitiveness that law school entailed (and will no doubt entail again next year). Alas, the monstrous workload hasn’t left me as much time for being a beach bum as I had hoped, but I manage to squeeze in the odd hour of sun worship/power swim in my lunch break. It seems wise to stock up on sunshine for the endless months of near darkness that will no doubt commence the moment I step off the plane in London town. Over and out.

Failing Better

2007-07-15T16:21:00.000Z

Yes...errr. So I have yet again failed to update in several months. It seems the law was rather more time-consuming than inititally predicted. I humbly apologize. Again.
I won't bother updating on the last few months, because really there is nothing of earth-shattering significance to report. It was months saturated with the law.
Nevertheless, I now have several months of glorious freedom before I become a legal slave yet again so I fully intend to bore you all senseless with the inane ramblings of an insane hummingbird. Afterall, if you are going to fail to update, do it in style. As Beckett said - "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

Papa Marx

2006-10-19T21:46:00.000Z

Yours truly attended a lecture on constitutional and administrative law the other day. ("Attended"? Pffft, i had no choice in the matter. Still.) My lecturer is a wonderfully chipper and cynical Irishman, who loves power point, but above all loves adding randomn pictures in his slides to keep us awake. Yes pretty pictures = longer attention span. So mid-lecture, he starts discussing various thinkers who have ranted...nay, written about the rule of law. Suddenly, on the slides appears a picture of the one and only Karl Marx. And Irish lecturer says:
"Anyone recognize that picture? It's the original Papa Smurf. You might all know him as Karl Marx."
This wonderful little gem of a comment put me in a deliriously giggly mood for the rest of the day. Marx must be turning in his grave. Beard allowing.

A Brief Rant on Pointlessness

2006-10-04T17:29:00.000Z

This morning i rolled out of bed at 7ish am (after falling asleep on my criminal law book at 2am) to brave the morning rush hour on the joyous London transport system in order to attend a seminar on legal research which was apparently vital to our survival in law school. Sounded promising enough. Imagine my at first amusement progrssing speedily to anger at discovering that the legal research seminar consisted of the most monotonous sounding library man telling us that the main source for our research would be the library. Yes, thats right. You heard me. This stunning stream of enlightenment does not stop there. Did you know for instance that within this thing they call a library we would have several things at our disposal namely: a)books; b)journals; c)law reports; d)the internet. I jest not.
I was so overcome with this epistemological accretion within 5 minutes i was reading a book i thankfully am used to carrying with me in case of transport lockdown. It was quite an achievement to shut off the perpetual drone of condescension in the background.
Is it really too much to assume that as individuals required to have a degree (or two, or a masters) before attending law school we would have encountered the thing they call a book?
Pointless, utterly utterly pointless...

Relaunch!

2006-10-03T21:10:00.000Z

Forgive me readers, for i have sinned. It has been almost a year since my last confession. And despite my last blog post being a moan about being old, and being 23, this has turned out to be a pretty damn good year. So...instead of providing you with an excruciatingly detailed account of my life amounting to a certain cure for insomnia, here are the highlights...(think Oscars, except no designer gowns....or actors....or red carpet. Ok, scrap that analogy...)
From November to January i had a pretty steady routine of applications, applications, applications.....for a job that is. After countless rejections which made me feel the size of an ectoplasmic amoeba stuck on the toe of a fish in a muddy puddle, i had an interview with A Consulting Firm which basically told me they wouldn't hire me because i was too high risk. What does that mean? Well apparently, in their opinion and experience, i would get bored within 3 months and quit. Now, i see that as a compliment. Damn you Consulting Firm! You couldn't deal with my individualism! (Bitter? Moi?)
January i did a brief stint at Huge City Law Firm (thanks S!). Interviewed with them, but ended up arguing with one of the partners about morality of taking money from Russian oligarchs who might have got the money from dubious sources. "Suprisingly", i didn't get the job. For those of you interviewing with big city law firms, please note, they do not care where the money comes from. Gottit?
Then started working for Big Newspaper in advertising. Lots of fun, and loved it!
In March, interviewed with another Big City Law Firm - and amazingly, got a job! Yes, i have sold my soul to the corporate Mephistopheles - but at least it is for a good price. Right? Right??? They are sponsoring me through 2 years of law school. And that dear readers is precisely what i am doing now. After a summer of travelling (Macedonia, Kuwait, Germany & Austria) I have just started my law conversion course, aka 3 years of law squished into one. And so far, i am absolutely loving it. Yes, yes, there IS an ulterior motive here for relaunching the blog. I need to procrastrinate now that i actually have work to do! I need a creative outlet for my chaotic brain!
Anyway, without further ado....relaunch complete!

When you are OLD...

2005-10-26T19:15:00.000Z

Today I turned 23. Yes, the 26th of October. The same birthday as Trotsky. Hurrah!
Aside from revelling in this bizarre revolutionary connection, I feel old, though i see no coming of wiseness. And this scares me. Why? I suddenly feel that the clockwork of time is gyrating faster and faster, and i am running out of time! Not being of the persuasion that life is but a preparation for death, i feel like we have only one chance to make the most of what we've got. There is so much to do! So much to see!
Perhaps one day, I , like Yeats will find consolation in my own Byzantium, some sort of articfice of eternity, no longer concerned "of what is past, or passing, or to come.." Maybe the body is really a dying animal, and our time in purgatory just another learning experience for the soul....
Until i figure this out, can someone please pass me the cookies?

Divided we stand - "United" we're not..YET.

2005-10-24T00:51:00.000Z

Just a brief thought.
Happy 60th Birthday, United Nations. It was formally inaugurated by 29 nation-states at the US State Department. Ironic, isn't it? Its greatest patron has become its greatest critic...

Yet many still see the UN as "bruised but intact" and "indispensable". Say what you like about it, many nation-states feel awkward? uneasy? acting without its sanction.
It is to its credit that it somehow emerged after the Cold War paralysis, to act more often in the last 15 years than it did since 1945. For an ideal that suffers from the identity crisis of - "United what? United IN what? United FOR what? United HOW?" , it also suffers from the eternal criticism of damned it if does, damned if it doesn't.

Perhaps it has just become a bad apple off a really good tree, that has along the way become rotten through the nepotistic and corrupt worms that infiltrate its core to eat the original idealism away. It is an interesting time for the UN and where it goes from here. Staying along its "midlife crisis" course is not an option. I desperately hope it chooses the path of reform, because i dread a future without the United Nations...

Feast of the Goats

2005-10-08T23:09:00.000Z

OK. The falafel was excellent. The shrimps were a bad idea. But i really blame the waffle smothered in chocolate. Or should that be gallon of melted chocolate with hint of waffle?? Yes, wandering up and down Portobello Road for several hours is dangerous. Too many temptations to resist. But oh so much fun. As Mr. Wilde would say - one can resist everything except temptation.

Prize for most surreal exchange of the day goes to S. & J.

S: (munching on bunch of fresh parsley) - "I feel like a goat!"
J: I hate it when that happens.
S: Meeeeeeeeeh meeeeh.

Thank you all for a WONDERFUL day. :) V. come back soon. We will miss you muchly.

T'was The Penguins What Won It

2005-10-07T23:02:00.000Z

Hello. Remember me? Yeeeessssss..... i own this blog. Yes, OWN. HAH! Started as a dissertation distraction project, but i seem to have become fond of it, its a good place to spill my more random...no - correction "inspirational" - thoughts. Also now that V. and Ms. D-Rack and Squiggly O (i've tried in vain to find the symbol!!!) are reading it too...i cannot disappoint my fans!!!!!!!!!!! Ah....thank you, thank you.

So where have I been? Having fun of course! Yeeeeeeeesss...FUN! Walking around London. Reading wonderful books that are not intellectual alcoholism in the style of "ooooh, im so smart i think ill use 5 big unnecessary, unpronouncable words here and call it a critique". Reading papers and magazines without the constant gut-wrenching feeling of guilt (Aaaah National Geographic. And YES! Vogue. There i said it.) Fabulous exhibitions (Londoners take note: the Tate Britain Degas, Toulouse-Lautrec, Sickert exhibition is fantastic). Just enjoying life really. I am no longer confined to the (albeit beautiful) mole-hole. I no longer have to sit staring blankly at a computer screen waiting for divine inspiration, and praying that two of my braincells collide strongly enough to produce something vaguely resembling an intellectual spark. Although what i still need to do is find a job. So the endless application process has begun in earnest. (Please don't let banking be the only option, please don't let banking be the only option......!)

Back to fun. So several thoughts on the subject.

1 - Penguins. Yes, my penguin worship has reached an ultimate high. And for very good reason. Please refer to http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/4318888.stm for the benefits of penguin poo to humanity. I jest not.

2 - Friends reunions. Yes!!!!!!!! The Passfield crew reigns supreme!!! I cannot wait for tomorrow - a day of falafelesque decadence, topped with one...maybe two...maybe three crepes? waffles? crepes? Mmmmmmmmm.

3 - Music. Soundtrack to the past couple of days:
The genius that is Antony & The Johnsons.
The divine Rufus Wainwright (worship! worship!).
Chavela Vargas, ex-lover of Frida Kahlo (watch out for the coolest line - "Yo soy como el chile verde, picante pero sabroso" - Im like a green chile, spicy yet delicious!)
U2. Aaaaaaaaaaah.

4 - Orchids. After months of being an ugly mass of roots and fat leaves, my orchid has begun growing again. And there was much rejoicing. I have named it Phoenix. My little orchid growing out of the ashes.

And now, I must now go and take my current hyperactivity out on something..... Adios!

Call off the search..

2005-09-19T13:17:00.000Z

A fabulous discovery by a friend:

Google "failure". The first result that pops up is interesting.....

The 12th September...

2005-09-15T22:57:00.000Z

The day I submitted my dissertation. The day I officially finished my masters degree...my education. It is over. Aaaaaaaaah the sweet joyous smell of freedom. I can now run around outside, feel the wind on my face, lie in the luscious green grass, in the glorious sunshine.....see the fat buzzing bumble bees wobbling about drunk on nectar....
Snap. Sorry daydream delirium. Yes this is England. Now that I can finally go OUT, its raining, not just cats and dogs, but elephants. Murphy's law. Aaaaaaaaargh. Well, at least im back in the world...this mole ain't gonna be a stuck in a hole no more.

12th September is also the day England won the Ashes after 18 years. Cricket is a beautiful game. A gentlemanly sport. Where else do you have technical terms such as: 'golden duck' and 'teapot'. The only good thing that has come from empire. Glorious...

Macedonia

2005-09-08T20:56:00.000Z

Although im still beavering away at the dissertation, my inner nationalist felt compelled to share this important factoid with you.

Today is Macedonian Independence Day (circa 1992).
In a region which is quite literally the Balkan apple of temptation, there have been so many wars, independences, dates of nationalist character building, that all countries tend to celebrate a plethora of historical dates.

In November Macedonia will learn whether it has become an EU candidate country. If it does become a candidate country, Greece will have yet another temper tantrum, and probably block ultimate entry into "Europa". We will remain the crazed blood-thirsty Balkans. And so we have the dichotomy of Europe, for those in it and those out, it represents different ideals, fused into paradoxical unity. Watch this space.

PS. For certain Tories who might be reading...it was originally WInston Churchill who proposed a "United States for Europe"....

A Thought on History

2005-09-04T13:24:00.000Z

You know you've reached the pinnacle of madness, staring into the darkest abyss of insanity (which is a shade of peacock today, in case you were interested) when you begin quoting yourself:

"History is one long bad mood."

To The Citizens of the United States of America

2005-09-03T12:09:00.000Z

I remember this doing the rounds when good ol' Dubya cheated his way into power. It is still absolutely hilarious. If only... We could finally wave goodbye to the myth of the special relationship.
Enjoy.

To The Citizens of the United States of America:
In light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabethan, will resume monarchic duties over all states, commonwealths, interdiction (excepting Kansas, which she does not fancy).

Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect: You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up aluminium, and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.The letter 'u' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise".Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up vocabulary). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.There is no such thing as US English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of 'ize'.

You will relearn your original national anthem, God Save The Queen. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. You will learn to resolvepersonal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact thatyou need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults.If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone orspeaking to a therapist, then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything moredangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish tocarry a vegetable peeler in public.

All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you Japanese cars, you will understand what we mean. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been improperly calling gasoline) at roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.

You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries arenot real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, anddressed not with ketchup but with vinegar.The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, beallowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football,but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full body armour like a bunch of nancies). Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond yourborders, your error is understandable.

You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.
An internal revenue agent ( i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all moniesdue (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your attention and co-operation.

Dream Delinquent

2005-09-01T10:25:00.000Z

It's official. My subconscious needs to be locked up in a mental institution, proded with sharp implements and studied.
Last night I dreamt that I was chilling with Bono... yes, THE Bono of U2 fame, and we were apparently trying to write a cool choon. I was giving him several notes, then I started yelling "No! No, F then Bflat!". Then Bono started improvising on the notes with his acoustic guitar and came up with the coolest choon! Then, Ravi Shankar showed up and started adding Indian vibes to the guitar, except Ravi Shankar looked like Gandhi (this bit I can explain, it's probably to do with the documentary I watched on him last night.)
But Bono? Where did that come from?
Anyways, back to humming away happily.

Notting Hill Carnival

2005-08-29T20:20:00.000Z

As I am writing this, the party outside is still going on, and on and ON!
The biggest carnival of its kind in Europe, the Notting Hill carnival is an institution of London now in its 41st year. Enough with the boring encyclopediaic stuff!
A celebration of Carribean culture that has now become a symbol diveristy and I loved every second of it. The atmosphere was fantabulous!
Picture this:
Wafting smells of smokey barbecue jerk chicken, corn, roast plantains and the gentle puffs of the naughty leaf. Tempting coconuts ripe for drinking, sugar cane ready for enducing sugar sky-highs, and...candy floss. A rum shack, with a bucket of carribean rum mango and orange chunks. Mmmmmm.
The sounds of Soca beats, amplified steel pan vibes with RnB beat, techno-Carribean funk, 50 cent (and a 5?6? year old girl who knew all the lyrics!), bangra drums, mad whistles (including my very own Whistle of Dooom! :: toot toot trill toot::) back to Soca beats, and currently... Jimi Hendrix!
The streets, a human anthill. Whizzing past in a haze of technicolour...red butterfly-like creatures, red-white-black clad steel pan bands, costumed children laughing and jiggling to the beats.
A purple-green-yellow gold sequined army, pink-turqoise silver bursts of brightness, orange-yellow sun gods, costumes celebrating the Olympic 2012 win. Trucks with booming sound systems, mud/cement /sweat/water covered people, the spring-summer-autumn-winter parade...
A strikingly dizzying display of joie de vivre.Does life get better than simply dancing in the street? Carnival-tastic.

The Whistle of Dooooom!

The carnival crew - smiley smiley!

Did you know candy floss could also be used as fake moustachios?

The cute baby doods! (We think their mum thought we were wierd for taking pictures of her cute baby doods!)

In de Rum Shack, djah man! De rum, de mango, de orange, den more RUM! YUM!

A picture frame in the middle of the road? Eeeexcellent.

Notting Hill Carnival - in pictures!

2005-08-29T11:44:00.000Z

Spring, summer, autumn, winter!

The golden man!

London Olympics anyone?

Purple haze

Pretty in pink!

The sun was shining, there was much smiling and rejoicing!

Ramblings of a Crazed Bible-thumper

2005-08-24T21:59:00.000Z

Can I say that? Bible-thumper? Is that politically incorrect? Oh who cares. I'll take my chances on burning in hell.

So most of you have already heard of Pat Robertson (aka Mr. Most Influential Evangelist in the US, head of the Christian Coalition, bible-thumper extraordinaire) calling for the assassination of Hugo Chavez because he wanted to turn Venezuela into:
"the launching pad for communist infiltration and Muslim extremism" and that the US has "the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability."
"We don't need another $200 billion war to get rid of one, you know, strongarm dictator. It's a whole lot easier to have some of the covert operatives do the job and then get it over with."

Has someone told this guy the Cold War is over? He sounds like something out of the CIA reports on Operation Mongoose for Cuba in 1962! COMMUNISM? Infiltration? Ummm, hello assassination of a Head of State? And what is the US doing about it? Twiddling its thumbs, and very very quietly saying 'inappropriate'. What would the US do if the equivalent, oh I don't know lets say a Muslim religious leader called for the assassination of Bush? Bomb the hell out of them.

These are indeed insane ramblings. I did some research on this Mr. Hallelujah, whom I can only eloquently describe as a psychotic nut-monkey (apologies to monkeydom) and here are some of his finest moments. These are actual quotes, I jest not:

Feminism
"It encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

Oh sorry, is he done burbling? I was just making a potion to kill my husband, in my cauldron, using the heart of the child i adopted with my lesbian lover, while reciting Das Kapital.

9/11
"If they look over the course of 100 years, I think the gradual erosion of the consensus that's held our country together is probably more serious than a few bearded terrorists who fly into buildings."

No comment.

Islam
"It's clear from the teachings of the Koran and also from the history of Islam that it's anything but peaceful."

Clearly this man has never heard of the Crusades or the Inquisition either.

I didn't realise that there were people in the world who genuinely hold these views. Bible-thumping mad.

Art of Conversation

2005-08-23T21:09:00.000Z

Aaaaah, the art of conversation. A social system which is symbolic and language oriented where responses depend on one persons interpretation of another persons behaviour. Individual interaction on personal topics. And what better person to understand you as an individual with your personal topics than yourself!? Conversation is normally defined in the average dictionary as "an oral exchange of sentiments, observations, opinions, or ideas." The eagle eyed among you will have noticed that it does not specify that it has to occur between more than one person.
No, in fact, it is perfectly natural to sit on a train and talk to oneself, nod in agreement, frown in disagreement, raise one eyebrow in puzzlement, snort with disdain, laugh merrily at the jokes one told to..err..oneself, like the extremely entertaining person who was sitting across from me on the train today, happily chatting away to himself, giggling at his stupendous side-splitting oneliners.
Why should we NOT talk to ourselves? Is there a law against discussing the daily events with yourself? Is it ILLEGEAL? No! So it started out as a necessary means of interaction when early homo sapiens was hunting antelope in ye olden days, a method of cunning strategic planning that went along the lines of "You throw stick thingy with sharp point ouchy, I run scream make noise like lion". Considering we no longer need to hunt antelope we need something meaningful to replace the lost need for conversation - for example discussing with oneself what clever responses one should have made in a debate, yesterday, instead of the crap "Well, I err...disagree".
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to deliver a lecture on "Is postmodernism post-modern?"..........in my mind.

Shoes, Lipgloss and War

2005-08-21T23:06:00.000Z

I love Sundays. Today was a lovely indulging day of sunshine, shoe shopping (not for ME!!! and yes, you know who you are pretty-shoed one :-P), being attacked by mutant lipgloss in Selfridges, and convincing randomn sales assistants that Drew Barrymore was in ET. Don't ask. I blame the lipgloss. And the perfume people who insist on spritzing some new perfume in your eyes as you walk past, a perfume people passtime which should be called "skunking".

On my way home I saw a person wearing a T-shirt which read:

"War is just terrorism with a bigger budget"

Excellent, non?
What was NOT so excellent was my idea that i should compliment this randomn person (an American tourist incidentally) on their choice of T-shirt. So imagine, there you are, happily clicking away at Nelson's column in Trafalgar Square, admiring the pigeons (damned vermin to anyone who lives in London), exclaiming "Oooooh my GOD! Lets go to Leeeeeeicesterrrr!" and a randomn person (me, wierd-lookin' even on a normal day, complete with a mixture of british, american and eastern european accent) runs up to you and goes excitedly - " I LOVE your T-shirt! Bye!", and then runs off. Yes, i ran off and caught the first bus i could find, because by the time my brain caught up with what i was doing I was really embarrassed.
I need to learn to control my wierdo impulses.

Meanwhile, the countdown begins to next Sunday.

In Memorium

2005-08-19T21:17:00.000Z

Today is a sad day. Mo Mowlam, who was one of the dwindling number of intellectuals remaining in the British Labour Party, died of a brain tumour today. She was one of the first female Labour MP's, and was the Northern Ireland Secretary, who probably single-handedly fostered the peace deal in Ireland and transformed the Irish political scene (before His Excellency "I want to be a President " Mr Bleurgh swooped in to take all the credit. )
Like Robin Cook, Mo Mowlam was one of the increasing number of Labour MP's who were becoming disillusioned with Blair, and began to speak out against some of the New Labour policies. (For "New" Labour, read Labour which is more conservative than the Conservative party. Imagine Reagan leading the Democrats. Ungh. )

Robin Cook, Mo Mowlam...who's next? Is it coincidence that all the powerful Labour MP's who have begun to oppose Blair (especially over Iraq) are beginning to prematruely die? Or has our fearless leader begun taking notes from Putin?
Tis a sad day indeed.

Evil Penguins

2005-08-18T22:28:00.000Z

"Smile and wave boys, smile and wave..."

Madagascar

2005-08-18T00:00:00.000Z

4 psychotic power-hungry plotting evil genius penguins, a lion with a penchant for sushi, a hypchondriac giraffe, and a lemur monkey who likes to sing..."I like to move it move it, i like to move it move it, i like to MOOOVE it!" voiced by Ali G.
=Fabulous.

I want my own psychotic penguins.

Dial D for Dustbag

2005-08-16T22:10:00.000Z

This weekend saw the occurrence of a surreal experience even by my standards that I feel compelled to share.
There i was vacuuming, with a vacuum cleaner the size of a hairdryer that still uses those paper dustbag thingumijiggies. Halfway through the living room, the vacuum cleaner made what can only be described as the sound of someone choking on a fly. Poor fly. Anyway. Basically one of the pipe thingumijigs came out of the main frame thingy splatterring dust everywhere. (Thingummy = technical jargon, of course.)
The vacuum was basically dead. After trying everything from kicking, to switching plugs i decided it must be the dustbag. Easy-i can change a dustbag! Open vacuum. Remove dustbag. REMOVE dustbag. Remooooove dustbag damnit! Dustbag extracted!!! Success. Replace dustbag. Ummm....discover have run out of dustbags...on a Sunday afternoon.

Now this is the bit where it goes from mundane to mad. Instead of deciding to wait for a day until i could go buy more dustbags, i decided the job must be finished now, now NOW! Some wierd part of my brain, which I am now convinced was descended from Dr. Frankenstein, decided: "I know! I vill disect zeee old dustbag, yah, und fix eet to an oooold grocery paper bag vun yah, und i vill haff a new home-made dustbag! Eeeegzellent! Igor, bring my scalpel No. 3"

So proceed I did. Cut off the top of the dustbag that fits into the vaccum (choking on dust in the process even though i did have the forethought to do this in the garden and into a big bin bag). Cut a grocery paper bag down to size and sellotape it to the dustbag top.
Dr. Frankenstein would have been proud. (Despite the downgrade to home appliance dissection, and with an imagined Igor thanks to Igor rights legislation.)
My creation was ready! All i needed was lightning!!!!! Thunder! Strike! Live! LIIIIIIVE! LIIIVEEEE! Oh fine. I'll just use the plug.

The crazy thing is, it works. Better than bought dustbags. Except next time i will not use sellotape but staples. Sellotape methinks overheats the engine. This will also be helping the environment by recycling paper bags.
Surreal, but functional. Rather like Dali's lobster telephone, non?

India Independence Day

2005-08-15T22:14:00.000Z

India woke up to freedom 58 years ago. The world finally began to cast off the shackles of empire and so began the demise of the British Raj. Hurrah!

Gandhi's devotion to truth and his non-violent path to redressing wrongs is still an inspiration.
What happened to the idealism of the world? I can't help but think that instead of advancing, the socio-political organisation of humanity is regressing.

Politicians now strive for power, but once they achieve it, they expose the nothingness of their motives. Those killing children to advance their cause have clearly not heard of peaceful non-cooperation. No cause justifies the murder of another human being.

It's quite simple really, the world needs another Gandhi. Happy Independence Day, India.

Pink Post Scriptum

2005-08-15T21:11:00.000Z

Sir Ivor Pink, pig extraordinaire, was delighted with his brief portfolio and has been kind enough to give me a page of his memoirs. I share this for your viewing pleasure.

Animal Farm

2005-08-14T13:51:00.000Z

After several SHOCKING rumours as to whether all these animals i claim to "own" (or appropriate) actually exist, i have felt it necessary to dispel the allegations that these are just names i give to the voices in my head. HOW many times do i have to tell you that there is only ONE other voice in my head. The Penguin who lives in my head is simply hiding away from a particularly savage army of sabre-toothed minnows!!? Sheeesh. His name is Eggbert by the way. Eggbert..no...Eggbert...give that back. Argh.....! Apologies. Eggbert was trying to steal my ice cream (or objecting to being named Eggbert, I'm not sure).
Where was I? Oh yes. Dr. Doolittleska at your service armed with photographic evidence. Allow me to introduce you to my (very real) menagerie.

Fleur, Miss Garden 2005
This is Fleur, the most beautiful critter to grace the garden so far. Hobbies include looking pretty, flower hopping and world peace.

No. 2, Garden Squirrel Squadron
No. 2 is the boldest, bravest and youngest (and clearly most suicidal) member of the squirrel clan that inhabits my garden. Their persistent digging up of anything I plant has led me to name them as Bond villains. Any day now im expecting to find another hole in the garden with a note attached saying "From Squirrels, with love". They also cunningly deplete my supply of delicious nuts by hypnotising me to be their nut-providing slave.
The boss of Garden Squirrel Squadron is one fat squirrel. I expect he also has a white pet Persian cat somewhere.
Hobbies include, nut munching, dove chasing, paragliding, digging up flowers just planted, door scratching when hungry, and human mind manipulation.

Sir Ivor Pink, the East London pig
Following a recent debate involving
capitalist pigs, I felt I should defend the noble pig race.
This is Ivor, I met him on a city farm in the East End happily having a mudbath (which i am told helps the complexion). Sir Ivor would like it on the record that he in fact has no political affiliations. He also said that as far as he was concerned, no pig has said "All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others." If they have, they should consider themselves disowoned from the pig race. Sir Ivor's hobbies include, mud, munching, mud face mask product development for The Body Shop and writing his memoirs

Pablo the Fox was unavailable for this photo shoot. Black Cat was, as far as I am aware, away plotting my downfall which was all that i could figure out from his note which read "I am away plotting your downfall, meowhahahahahahaaaaaaa......ahahahahaha....ahaha!"

More photographic evidence as it happens, but for the time being I believe I have done enough to disprove rumours of animal voices in my head. So there.

Eggbert no. Put that back. No...NO! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargggggghh....... . . . . .

Cat-nip

2005-08-09T21:35:00.000Z

I have another pet. Well sort of. It's not technically mine, you see. I've just appropriated someone else's pet. Well, Im planning to. This morning i walked out into the garden with my mug of coffee to breathe in the fresh smell of summer. The fresh smell of summer was slightly different this morning. It smelt of flying, meeowling black cat complete with red collar avec bell, zooming off the top of the garden shed, its little bell chiming away like the bells of Notre Dame, and narrowly avoiding my face. (There was also a bit of freshness delivered as a present by Pablo the Fox, my other pet...in the middle of the lawn.)
So anyway, back to Black Cat. Several conclusions. Either it flew off in suprise that a human should intrude in its territory, thank you very much. Or, it was lying in wait, having monitored my daily morning excursions into the garden, and it decided to maim the evil human intruding in its territory, thank you very much.
Happily, Black Cat forgave me by making friends with my ankle. Enter stage left, my cunning plan. I'm leaving little treats on the lawn for Black Cat. So far, i think Pablo is getting in there first, but i shall perservere. The plot thickens.

Motivation, motivation...wherefore art thou oh motivation?

2005-08-07T18:46:00.000Z

11 hours, 18 minutes after waking, i have spent precisely 10 minutes working on my dissertation. Today has officially been the worst procrastrination day in my LIFE. Why the imagination gremlins in my head hear you ask? Allow me to demonstrate:

8.30 am - Wake up with big plan to work all day on dissertation.
9.30am - Still in bed. Reading book totally unrelated to dissertation subject.
10.47am - Drag myself out of bed. Motivation of 8.30 am seems to have decreased by 50%.
10.55am - Breakfast. Due to feelings of guilt, prepare enough breakfast to feed a Roman legion.
11am - Consume breakfast of legionic proportions while watching World Athletics Championships. Calorie count - 5 billion.
11.30ish - Shower.
11.45am - Make mega pot of coffee. Consume over half.
11.55am - Download article related to dissertation. Read article. Write 10 words of something mildly resembling analytical critique.
12.05pm - Decide that i cannot risk computer crash. Must install USB memory stick to back up dissertation. (Looking back on it, i blame the coffee. Who in their right mind would become so paranoid about losing 10 words of their dissertation - which in its 10 word entirety, i forgot to mention, includes the title !?)
12.15pm - USB successfully installed. Decide "study break" needed. Watch more World Athletics Champions.
2pm - Watch Commonwealth swimming qualifiers.
2.30pm - Download more articles for dissertation. Brief chat with SAG. over whether people in London would be decent enough to return accidentally left behind things like cameras. (Luckily it has since turned out that there are still decent people in London. The camera is saved - hurray!) Chat with SS over possibility that Robin Cook was bumped off Ukraine-style by that fearless leader Mr. Blair.
3pm - Motivation level = -1000%. Decide that maybe a walk on Portobello will help concentration.
3.30pm - Return home armed with Sunday newspapers. It is a sign of desperation to procrastrinate - catch myself reading sports pages with something approaching interest!
Have lunch. Calorie count - not too bad.
5pm - Motivation level - slightly better. Decide to attempt to write.
5.15pm - Switch to vogue.co.uk.
7pm - Snack time. More coffee. More coffee. Make new pot.
7.30pm - Motivation level = -1,000,000%!

I ask you - what is the POINT!? I will now go and attempt to write at least 1,000 words of my dissertation. Will it work? Do fish have feathers?

I'm Sorry, I Haven't a Clue

2005-08-05T00:58:00.000Z

Well here it is. Blogmania has struck. I too am joining on the bandwagon of blogging having finally realised that the reason i haven't done this sooner is the fear of the blank page. Yes, as simple as that. Mental process went something along the lines of:
"What should I write in my first blog post, ever? It must be grande, glorious, eloquent, philosophical yet funny, clever but not pretentious, advance the political debate while revealing human nature at its core, it must be written with panache, be suave, bold, daring.. blah blah.... But how do i write like the literary geniuses? What is human nature? Are we good? Who am I? What is the meaning of life?"
Obviously, the train of thought deteriorated swiftly into a momentary existential crisis, which was thankfully swiftly resolved by a tub of Hagen Dasz. The blank page, however, remained.
So here I am, several weeks (and ice cream tubs) later having realised that i will never be as witty as Oscar Wilde, as descriptive as Balzac, as tragi-comic as Beckett. By not aspiring to be something I am not I understood that the greatest understanding was knowing how much we don't understand. I had, if you will, an epiphany.

This blog will therefore be simply a record of my randomn thoughts. So to questions along the nature of - what is the meaning of life? my current thoughts remain provisionally inconclusive. In the words of Humphrey Lyttelton & co. I'm sorry, I haven't a clue.

:: cuts red ribbon::

Blog officially launched! Now where is that champagne?