Monday, May 21, 2007

More garlic is now consumed in the South of England than in the North of France. I really need to stop internet shopping and get a job. Every time I hear anything about any book ever I buy it on Amazon. I'm addicted. I now have two 'to do' lists because I lost the first one and then found it again. Some of the things are on it twice. It's extremely annoying. I can't decide whether to transfer one list over to the other one or if that would be a waste of time and compromise my 'to do' list efficiency. (Efficiency compromising is a great phrase I picked up while working at Tower Hamlets Council, the most efficiency-compromised organisation I have ever come across in my life). I guess I could write at the bottom of 'to do' list 1 "*Now see 'to do' list 2". It's a great responsibility having nothing to do with one's life. I can't wait to get to France now where I'll have nothing to do with my life but -Thank God- no internet. So proud of myself this weekend- I went to parties on Thursday and Friday, and could easily have gone to two more on Saturday and Sunday but stopped myself. Because I have self-control and my body is a temple. A temple which could barely stand up, enunciate any words or see properly out of either of its eyes. If my body is a temple, what God is being worshipped within it?

Thursday, May 03, 2007

The men that don't fit in

There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and they rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far; They are strong and brave and true; But they're always tired of the things that are, And they want the strange and new. They say: "Could I find my proper groove, What a deep mark I would make!" So they chop and change, and each fresh move Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs With a brilliant, fitful pace, It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, Forgets that his prime is past, Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead, In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance; He has just done things by half. Life's been a jolly good joke on him, And now is the time to laugh. Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost; He was never meant to win; He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone; He's a man who won't fit in.

Robert W. Service

Animal instinct

I just saw a fox with a piece of fried chicken in its mouth try three times to cross a road. Each time it tried to walk out between the parked vehicles a car would roar past and it would have to retreat discomfited to the pavement. Finally it gave up, walked down to the zebra crossing and crossed there. No one reads my blog anymore. Hardly anyone ever did, but now it's even fewer...