Gas, not Cole.

I haven't thought about them in a while, I'm hoping they are OK. I refer of course to my second team, Bristol's worst. They have a history of homelessness and below average league form (currently residing mid table in League Two) but in some small way, some nostalgic relic from my past, I cannot give them up. They also have one of the best nicknames in sport.
Bristol Rovers, affectionately known as "Gas'eads" .



Our rivals are Bristol City, affectionately known as 'Shit Heads' Because, well, you work it out.


I became a Gashead when I worked for the club back in the early 90's as a steward. I was already a die hard Norwich fan but my head was turned by this bit of rough, this dirty jewel of the South West. I needed my weekly fix of live sport and working for them provided me with a paid opportunity to watch lower divison footy for the first time (Norwich in those days were a Premiership force to be reckoned with).
My roomate at the time, Ringer, a local lad from Keynsham was a fervent Shithead and was aghast at my choice. "How would you feel if I moved to Norwich and became an Ipswich fan?" I replied that he wouldn't ever do that because it just doesn't work like that in Norfolk. In Bristol the teams live on top of each other, In the east we are 40 miles apart and know little of each other's ways and habits. His own Brother in law was a Gashead, Ringer ended up marrying a Norwich fan. Funny how things turn out.

When asking Bristolians about their preferences the following is not uncommon. "Are you shit or gas?" "Me? I'm shit, I fuckin hate the gas." It takes some getting used to.

A meme.

With apologies and thanks to Weasel I include this meme.
This is because I am having a frantic week at work so what better way to spend my time than blogging silliness.

5 things you don't know about me.

1. I am the same height and weight as Lyndon Baines Johnson. Sure the weight fluctuates a bit but 6'5 is 6'5. The weight is in the same ballpark, look it up. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, he had multiple heart attacks and drank himself to death at 65.

2. I am a fully qualified soccer referee. The offside rule and everything. I even have a badge and a whistle.

3. I find my cosmic centre on water. Water and being on it makes me most happy. Always. Boats generally do the trick, especially sailing ones. There can be nothing better than a day sailing with the nearest and dearest, or failing that, Henry Holland. Don't get me wrong , I also like land and am quite good at being on it but it's water that really calms me down.

4. I once bumped into Bobby Moore. At the 1987 FA Cup Final, in the car park at Wembley. He was very nice about it, it was completely my fault.

5. I am not scared of flying. I actually love to fly, especially in small planes. Some people assume that because it took me 27 years to get into the air there was some deep seated traumatic phobia. The real reason was that for most of my destinations up to that point there was a train, car or a boat that would do the job just as well (if a little longer).

Of course!!

It had been bugging me for a while, since yesterday actually . Who was the Chancellor of the Exchequer in the 1974-79 Labour government? Was there more than one or was it just one person?

Such things rattled about in my brain as I tried to think of what the hell to write about in order to clear the 'Thanksgiving" post from the top bumper.

I was trying to work out a British equal to Walter Mondale.

In desperation I had to resort to Google.

Of Course!

Denis Healey!

His political career follows many a similar path to our favourite Veep, in power in the second half of the seventies, vocal yet impotent in the first half of the eighties. Fought right wing iconoclasts and lost, badly.

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday for so many reasons, the food, the football, the family dysfuntionality. One of the perks of being an elementary teacher is the inventive ways teachers and parents dream up to bring such celebrations into the classroom (and into my stomach)


Behold, the pot simmering away in a nearby First Grade classroom.


I was alerted by the smell, I was soon investigating, camera in hand.


Before you could say "Thank you Sarah" this delicious bowl of Stone Soup landed upon my busy desk.

There were many other splendid offerings throughout the building but this soup was my favourite.

Thank you First Grade Friends!

Running scared, the debriefing.

Out on the road at 4pm, Back home by 5.10pm. Bloody marvellous. Every time something felt tired, uncomfortable or just plain 'ugh' something else clicked in. The wind direction changed for the better, the gradient improved, some tourists got out of the way, a great piece of music came on. I'm going out again Wednesday morning, bright and early before three days of eating.

Running scared.

I've been out a few times since the knee specialist pronounced me fit for running again.

Following the 'incident' at the end of August and the swelling, the ice, the acupuncture, the six week wait to visit said knee specialist, the almost nervous breakdown 'I'll never bloody run again" and the entire day spent in his waiting room. The new ipod filled with enthusiastic running tunes and the reading of Runner's World on the loo, I'm getting back.

The route is the same as it was last year, just building up strength and reaping the rewards of getting outside and running. All told it's about five and a half miles (closer to six if you include the walk up and the walk down)over the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges, alternate directions each time today (if I get out of here in time for the last hour and a half of daylight) it'll be the Manhattan first then back via the Brooklyn. With fading light it's a bit safer to run that direction there being more people about.

I'm keen to up the ammount of runs I get in a week. I want to start getting up just before dawn again and getting out at least once a week in the morning. You may think it's easier to get up just before dawn when dawn is later, trouble is a later dawn comes with colder airs and snugglier bed. An almost lethal combination!
Also, heading out to Long Island this week for the holidays. Not a great running environment, massive ammounts of food, TV, large sofas etc plus a dull suburban route as opposed to the vistas of the bridges and the streets of Chinatown and Brooklyn. They do have a neat runnning track at the local high school, I could do a few laps whilst listening to music.

Two free periods at the end of a Monday means I'm going to try and get out of here ASAP and get on the road by 4pm. Now I just have to watch out for those parents wanting a 'word'.



The Manhattan Bridge, A killer gradient but at least no tourists.

Random musings are often irrelevant, sometimes just stupid.

There's not been an huge ammount of excitement here at Mondale Towers. Listening to Johnny Cash, hoping the unseasonably warm weather will chill out (in all sense of the word) and looking forward to a bunch of beers with coworkers after school.In fact that's really what I'm doing right now, just killing time untill the beer begins to flow.





Who doesn't love pictures of Kitten?

She's really not half as grumpy as she looks.

An observation.

Something happened yesterday that made me think.

At least one of my co workers is old enough to have voted for Adlai Stevenson.
At least one of them is young enough to have voted for Al Gore.

It's a bit like the time my former Headmistress did an assembly on 'memory'. She asked all the faculty to conjure up their earliest memory and share it with the school.
She was startled when I told of the Queen's Silver Jubilee in 1977. She had been teaching for 10 years at that point.

We grow old quick.

The Buck stops here.

A kid in Listmaker's class incorrectly identified a picture of Harry S. Truman as "Mr Mondale".
Yeah!
I might wear my Harry Truman costume next week.

Look upon this image and consider his plight.

Not such a bad day.

November 8th 2006 was sucky in many micro ways. The weather was obscene and the work day just draggged, but there were some good macro bits.

Democrats seem to have gained control of Congress.√

Mr President is now a fully fledged lame duck.√

Kev and TJ had a baby girl, 7lbs, healthy, happy etc (as is mom). I was slightly put out that it wasn't a boy and that I had no controlling vote over the naming process. If both of those things had slotted in place the kid would have been called Donald.
I did enjoy TJ's eccentric restauranteur friend turning up with a large bottle of champagne in the hospital, and proper glasses.

Conferences.

Mom: Well I never really know what he gets up to, I mean does his handwriting look right to you? I said to my husband that if his handwriting didn't improve perhaps we should get him a laptop. Does he get along with Bill? I ask because Bill's father was the coach of the soccer team and one day he had to substitute Job and then Job spent much of the weekend in tears, oh god it was awful, do you teach the times tables by rote or do you do some kind of actual teaching because when I was in Grad school I had to learn the US Constitution word for word I think it was really useful but also totally unfair, like if you didnt really get it, you didnt kinda, get it. Once there was a kid in his class and he really didn't understand Job, not because he didn't speak properly but more, emotionally, I used to say. Oh, look at that is that his math book? Can I see it? He really never talks about math at home, we have a hell of a job , oh my god 'Job' do you see? I just made a pun out of his name! That never happens. Right, where was I? Oh, the math homework and are you going to move the desks around again because last year Ms Bean used to move them around but she used to let the children vote on where they would sit, I thought that that was a really cool entry into democracy. uh hu.


Another Mom: So do you do alot of handwriting in class because I think it's really important, I remember that my mother had a bunch of letters written by my father from Vietnam and they were in the most beautiful handwritten script and I just thought how awful that my daughter won't be able to go there and live that life as he did and write such beautiful, thoughtful letters because all they do now is use computers.

Dad: So is he messin about? That's all I want to know. Is he messin about? Can I tell Julie that the boy's not messin about?

Sometimes I just like to let them talk.

Book learning. THE LIST.

Wow.

I'm trying to compile a list of the very best of Book learning 2006.
Out of 27 books read so far I only have 4 that I would recommend as being superb f*cking reads.

One of them involves rabbits.

I just find it interesting.

Book Learning #27

On Royalty By Jeremy Paxman.


Americans may feel free to disregard this post.

Oh Blimey.

There's nothing like a superbly written analysis of the monarchy to make you rethink most of your comfortably held beliefs about the hereditary principle, democracy, representative government, The Duke of Edinburgh and that Royal Wedding party your mum made you go to in 1981.

I am confused.

I am a republican.

Arent I?

Monarchy, in the modern world is at best a hangover from a feudal age, at worst a joke in poor taste. The hereditary principle, when taken beyond haircolour and the size of your feet is an outdated concept.

Eveyone agrees on that.

So why do we still have one?

Paxman come up with a wealth of great arguments, both for and against the idea and practise of Monarchy. He also regales us with some insider gossip about hanging out with The Prince of Wales, The late Princess of Wales and (most amusingly) the Duke of Edinburgh. He delves back to examine what happens when you finish a royal family or kill a king (I learned a hell of a lot about the trial and execution of Charles I).
This book is a serious piece of journalism tackling a subject often left to the gossip mongers and tabloid editors.

But it's also a book that makes you think about something you've probably not thought about for ages, something you've left in the back of your head;
Monarchy= stupid, crap and wrong.
Now I'm less than sure. Do I care enough to get rid of them?
Would I prefer an elected president, some wanker like Richard Branson?
Would you want another layer of electoral politics, either for a meaningless figurehead or for a powerful president?
Do the British need a monarch to portray them in the wider world? Surely we are more mature as a nation. Or are we?

Surely there are more important things to worry about.

Happy Halloween (new hair)

Massive cat.

Glen has a massive cat.

I'd heard him tell of the collossus that is Cassius but had never actually met the beast. I was afraid that I might appear rude if I sat in his apartment with my jaw on the floor exclaiming "Jesus! It's huge!"

But he is a really, really big cat.

Look at the pictures and judge for yourself. I must assure you that no perspective has been altered, these images really do portray actual size.





Cassius happily cooperated with all these pictures.



We tried using cellphones to give a sense of the massive scale.



I should also add that Cassius is one big lump of love, a very friendly and affectionate animal, even if he is the size of a small horse.

And it is done.

After a week of working up to it, a false start and lots of inner conversations, I finally got shaved. Thanks to Glen for doing the deed and Jane for the pictures.



Me before, all fluffy and suddenly falling in,love with my gorgeous, luxuriant hair.



Glen, the master barber. I was a bit disconcerted by the way he kept refering to himself as 'Sweeney Todd'.



Given the opportunity who wouldnt try a few styles?



There was beer, quite a bit of beer.



Ta da!

So remember kids, this is all for Joe and his 'shave your head campaign. You can still donate. check out the link on getwellsoonjoe.

Monday.

I will be shaving/having my head shaved on Monday.
There's still plenty of time to donate (check links on previous post)
I'm hoping that the world's greatest bald guy/all round nice bloke Glen will do the deed. I've promised him beer.

It's all gotta go!

The picture shows some of my hair. Dirty blonde, thick and strong. And soon to be shaved from my head. Completely, to the bone. Gone.

Why???

Because lil Joe has got leukemia and it's the right thing to do.
If you want to donate* (and this is not a pitch, just if you feel like donating)to his parent's chosen charity click upon this link.

For a more indepth look at Joe's progress you can check his blog. Get Well Soon Joe at the bottom of the links.

I'm guessing I'll visit the Park Slope Barbershop within the week. Just waiting for the nod from across the pond.

If you do wish to donate , under no circumstances give any money to me. I won't accept it, it'll just end up down the pub.

Book Learning #26

Letters to a young politician by Alistair MacAlpine.



I had wanted something that would have illuminated the shadowy world of the Tory MP, I ended up with a flighty, sub Wodehouse ramble through drunkeness and intruige. It was fair enough but it just reminded me why we should never trust our elected officals and why Tories are almost always complete wankers.

Currently obsessed with...

Jenny Lewis and the Watson twins.
(Thanks Listmaker)

oh.

A poem.

Say not the Struggle Naught availeth

SAY not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright!

Arthur Hugh Clough


GO METS!

MON BRAVE!

I had absolutely no idea who Lanoe Hawker was untill about 5 minutes ago.

Now I have a vague sense of a member of the lost generation resurfacing as a psuedonym for my mildly famous older brother.

That's right, My brother has started a blog.

Tis a fledgling thing but as we have long held true in the 'mondale' clan "from tiny acorns do mighty oaks grow".
That's like a family motto.
So is "lark, see the mighty oaks of yore as they stride the land from Hapton to Portishead".
Another is "Never Relax!!"
And of course, the Delphic response to any question "timing".

Anyway, enjoy the blog, watch it grow.

Book Learning #25

Don’t get too comfortable by David Rakoff.

I saw him as a guest on The Daily Show last week.
He was talking about the log cabin Republicans and was rather amusing.

I thought that this would be a hilarious read.

Ridiculously, in between books hilarious.

It wasn’t.

It was well written and amusing. Perhaps more interesting than amusing. In fact, for the most part it held my attention and inspired thought. This was no rollicking Sedaris style yarn telling, This was funny in parts but more often educational in others, lots others.

The bit about Log Cabin Republicans was funny and pathetically, horribly sad.

The bit about citizenship and identity in the post 9/11 world was funny and fascinating and scary and wierd.

The bit about everybody in the world being equal to a piece of literature , some of us The Guttenburg Bible, some of us those little pink notes that say ‘while you were out’. That was funny.

But I wanted hilarious.

Get well soon Joe!

Joe is my brother's nephew.

Sounds a bit tenuous but it's not. We all larked about with Joe's parents before they became parent's etc and long ago formed some type of East Anglian mafia (albeit a sometimes diasphorous one)

Joe's five and has got some nasty stuff going on. I'm going to be keeping up with his progress (and that of his exhausted parents and lil brother and as yet to be born sibling) Youi can check out this fledgling blog at the rather obvious sounding link below.

Good Luck!

Friday the Thirteenth.

And we are having a mirror delivered!!!!!

Since Frau random Doubt mentioned 'the mirror man' I have not been able to get the Human league's "Mirror Man" out of my head. If you're not familiar with this pop classic from the 80s just ask me and I'll sing a few bars.

UPDATE: THE MIRROR ARRIVED. FRAU RANDOM DOUBT CHECKED IT. IT WAS SMASHED INTO A THOUSAND WEE TINY BITS. BAD LUCK UPON UPS. STAY AWAY FROM ALL THINGS BROWN FOR THE NEXT 7 YEARS.

Go. Go now.

Football news.
England's new manager Steve Mclaren is shit.
He should resign now.

This blog is formally committed to his dismissal/resignation.
A string of bloody awful results against third rate opponents.
Not acceptable.

England fans will recal the nightmare that was Mr Taylor's reign in the early 90's.
We cannot allow a repeat of those years. Christ, Nigel Worthington would do a better job.

Book Learning #24

Finding George Orwell in Burma by Emma Larkin.

This is one for the Orwellistas out there.

I say that because Ms Larkin litters quite a few indiscreet spoilers in this rather engaging book. If you are planning on reading any of Orwell's books in the near future and you don't wish to know the endings/broad themes of such works as Animal Farm, 1984, Burmese Days, Keep the Aspidistra flying, The Clergyman's daughter then come back to this book when you are done with the originals. Of course, If you have no intention of working through Orwell's books then you can read this without a hitch, that's what the spoilers are for.

Having said all of that this is an enjoyable accompaniment to the library of any Orwell fan. Larkin uses a trilogy of books by Orwell as a backdrop to recent Burmese history. Burmese Days, Animal Farm and 1984. The first represents the British colonial times, the second the establishment of socialism in Burma after WW2 and the third the totalitarian 'thought state' that exists today.

By a series of discreet encounters with Burmese dissidents and thinkers she traces Burmese history along with Orwell's experiences as a British policeman in the 1920s.
She attempts to find some of the locations that Orwell would have known and some of the settings for the novel Burmese days. She also picks away at modern Burma, both as a political entity and a tourist destination.

All the time she is attempting to evade the long arm of the Military who run Burma. They seem to be everywhere, suspicious of all foreigners as well as almost all Burmese. She also aims to find references to Orwell's Burmese experiences in his other books. I'm not so sure she succeeds with the last point but she does achieve a fine read and a glimpse into one of the world's darkest corners.

A recent article on Burma's current political shennanigans

October.

For a moment I wasn't sure which I enjoyed more; watching the Mets win or watching the Yankees lose.
I guess that moment has passed.

Conkers

So I lost the conker fight.

My Boss had a much bigger conker, it was a year old.
He'd told me where to find conkers in Prospect Park. When I found the tree last Saturday it was littered with very small conkers.

I smelled a conspiracy but kept quiet, not wanting to upset anything before the big bout.

I would never wish to smear an opponent, I just wonder how the hell he sleeps at night?

Truth be told it was a very close fight, No stampsies, lots of clean hits on both sides. The music teacher did a great job with the organ music. Towards the end both conkers developed large splits, it was simply a case of who connected next.

He did.

Still, I like to think that I have become the 'People's champion' or even better, the 'Children's champion' because children are better than grown up people because they are the future. I lost to 'The Man', I was their underdog. I have had a bunch of kids commiserate with me as I pass through the hallways. Perhaps I shall become their 'Queen of Hearts'.

One Hell of a field trip

I love Ellis Island. The ferry ride, the views.
Yesterday was one of the best field trips ever. Perfect weather, The kids rocked, great times.
Just look at one of the best locations for yard/recess in North America.
(They also learned some stuff but hey, check out the views!)

By the time I post this...

...his replacement may well have been hired.

Ah, Nigel. We had the best of times and some of the worst.
NEXT.

Links.

I'm trying to work links. Hope this works
Weasel.

Breaking news!

Firstly, he's been away for almost a year (and god knows he may stop at any moment) But one of my 'finds' of the blogosphere 'Blighty Blog' is back. Check below for a link.
(but between you and me, he's not as funny as he used to be)

God I'm getting so old fashioned about these links.

Next Friday, October 6th I take on the challenge of my boss in a public conker fight.





Last year I won.
(Thanks to Listmaker for the pics)

Book Learning #23

Burmese Days by George Orwell.

If it's fall I must be reading Orwell. There is just something so reassuring about my favourite author, something so, fall. I think it may have been September 1988 when my high school english teacher made us read '1984'. From that point on I was hooked, never more than 12 months away from another considered reading of his work. He is also one of the very few (count 1, maybe 2?) authors that I actually reread.

I should confess to having had some conflicts with the great man. Back in the 1990's when I was at the height of my fanatical Norfolk nationalism I was distrustful. I knew that under laws being thought up at that time, George Orwell would be listed as 'politically unreliable' for the crime of having lived in Suffolk* (a 'crime' we could today charge many of the great and good including our own dear Weasel and Delia Smith).

Such days and thoughts are now past us and in some way this could be said of Orwell.
Surely, the themes he writes about are dated and historically , politically irrelevant. The British Empire, International Communism, Come on, that stuff is all done and dusted.

The beauty of Orwell is that his themes remain relevant to the present as well as providing a look at the past. Colonialism, imperialism, call it what you will, it's still here. Even, to some extent the clash of ideologies. If we had managed to get beyond such concepts I suppose Orwell's words would sound dated, but he is shrewd with his words and fortunate with his timing.

In 'Burmese Days' Orwell paints a stinking, pitiful portrait of British Colonial rule. There cannot be one sympathetic character amongst the cast. Everyone, for some reason or another is simply struggling to survive, to make good in a sweltering situation, most through drinking at the club, some by questioning the purpose of Empire, some by hunting and riding horses. The book fares pretty well with small anecdotes and descriptions of characters for the first 200 pages and then things spice up, things happen.

I read the last 75 pages in a swirl of page turning frenzy. The action was tense and the ending tragic. No sympathetic characters, no sympathy for the characters.


* Orwell lived in Southwold during the 1920s and 30s, an area claimed by Norfolk because it's pretty.

Third Grade moments.

Every year it's the same. Last week Listo wrote about the difficulties adjusting to a new class. I couldon't agree more.
Having said all that I think my class may be starting to win me over.
Check this out.

We were discussing immigration and I was attempting to extract some ideas from them. I was trying to make the point that outside of New York City things are rather different. I was thinking Nineteenth century german farmer heading to the fertile pastures of the Midwest. I was thinking space. I was thinking open farmland and healthy, natural living far away from the Russian pogroms and the German Kulturkampf.


Me: "When you leave New York City, What do you notice when you look out of the car window?"

Kid 1: "People are nicer"

At this point a bunch of hands spring up so I start picking them off.

Kid 2: "Yeah, people in New York curse all the time".

Kid 3: "People don't smoke as much outside the city".

Kid 4: "People in New York are mean and they curse".

Kid 5: "People upstate are quieter and more polite".


And it went on, a litany of fantastic complaints from some of New York's Third Graders. Of course, Woe betide anyone outside of New York daring to criticise any aspect of the Four Boroughs in front of these kids.

The last Dance

The Labour Party Conference is in full swing.

Mrs Blair has already called Gordon a 'Liar'.

Mr Mandelson hasn't been helpful.

Tony is full of the love.



I am a touch perturbed about what may follow.

We shall see.

The moral of the story.

Always, And I MEAN ALWAYS, Check the top of the Ketchup bottle before shaking it.
Especially when dining in public.

Brooklyn pics

It's been such a ridiculously gorgeous fall day. Here are a few pictures of Prospect Park and Grand Army Plaza

Grand Army Plaza from Prospect Park West.




The Long Meadow.

THINGS I DID TODAY.

By Mondale, age 33 and a half.

Hey, I think I made it to older than Jesus. That's fairly cool eh?

Confiscated some NBAHoops cards from the two kids who keep playing with them in class.

Discovered that any future offspring will get INSTANT UK citizenship (Thank you, British Nationality Act 1981!- Hey, who would have thought the Tories would ever do me any favours?)

Stole food from a dear co worker. That doesn't look good but she was upset and I was trying to help. I ended up with 4 garlic doughballs. NIce.

Inserted a shopping bag into a small Volvic bottle. When another co-worker questioned the logic of this I did it again. TWO shopping bags into a small Volvic bottle. (Dear Guinness Book of Records, Is this a record?) That will show you.

I did that because I was trying to distract dear co worker from her own upset. Think of it, if you will, like a very small magic show in the faculty room. I didn't announce it as such because that would have been 'showy' but those who saw it knew what it was. I'm not sure I helped but the thought was there.

Became very bored, very quickly. I had to wait for an evening function at school. I decided to remain at my post and eat the free pizza that they provide for the losers who choose not to go home between the end of school and the evening function. That'll be me then.

I tried to stretch my legs and buy a cup of tea and a scone from the Trendy Loungery on Union st. This was a bad idea.
I had to fight, no, really, FIGHT my way past twenty or thirty moms with strollers and babies. There were no decent baked poroducts left and I just couldn't stand it.
I had to retreat to the expensive deli/market on the corner and buy a coffee and some chocolate bread just to stay awake.

I'm awake now.

Still several hours to go before I meet the parents of 2006/07.

I've scattered books around the room top make the place look 'learned'.

I've tidied Lego.

I've thought about tidying my desk but refuse.
My desk could be so much worse.
It's got a good 'slightly dotty teacher' look about it and a cool ornament that tell the temperature, air pressure and humidity.

I'm sure I'll blog more in a bit.

Go Mets!

National League East Champions 2006!!!

Proper Course.

I found a sailing blog that is not only rather good in it's own way but also links to several thousand gazillion other sailing blogs.
I just wish Theta Club would establish a blog. Although on second thoughts it's probably best that they remain as secretive as possible.
You can check the link at the bottom.
(I guess I could have just emailed Weasel and been done with it).

Sailing blog

I've been away, I've been reading 'Propercourse' and all his millions of amazing sailing links.
I'll be back soon.
Go Mets.

I kid you not.

Have you ever heard of somebody actually, really slipping on a banana skin?
In real life? Really?

Well my friends, now you have.

Last Tuesday evening whilst strolling through Bay Ridge (lost, with Listmaker on our way to visit Seesaw/Angel'swife) I suddenly slipped on something. It felt like slipping on ice. I didn't fall over but merely wobbled on one leg, regained my balance and turned to look at the offending thing that had caused such a loss of balance.

It was a banana skin.

I waited to see if a large cat would chase after me with a hammer or a mouse attempt to blow me up with a stick of dynamite but sadly the banana skin incident was the extent of my cartoon comedy moment.

Let it not be said such things never happen.

It's official...

...I'm obsessed with the impending demise of "My little Tony".
In the absence of a major soccer championship I turn my attentions to the front pages.
I read about coups and conspiracies, backbench meetings and cabinet plots.
I simply cannot see him surviving past the Party Conference in October.

Blair, The last call?

I give him until October.
A big beast will challenge him at the conference.
That's what should happen anyway.

It seems that everyone in Britain is either obsessed with his imminent departure or just quietly assured about it. I have said before that I love the lack of term limits for this very reason, term limits deprive the British voting public of the joy of seeing their elected officals twist in the wind. Term limits go against the brilliant irrationality of British life.

$20 says he's gone by November 1st. Anyone?

An end to confusion

After a series of random and sometimes drunken conversations over the past few weeks, conversations with Americans AND my Dad.
I have finally pinned a location on the 2008 European Championships.

Euro 2008 will be joint hosted by Austria and Switzerland.

I'm sure I could have looked it up sooner or perhaps bothered to watch a qualifying game.