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It's that time of year again. A near-homicidal bee was sitting on top of the paper recycling bin, aware that it had only a short time to live, and therefore keen to take some other poor bastard with it before it died. Fortunately, I spotted it in time and was not therefore stung (I allow for at least one sting in September, so to suffer one on August 31 would be a bit like the early start to the hurricane season this year -- a poor harbinger).
Then I discovered a spider in the bath. Hardy creatures, spiders. You try to flush them down the loo and they seem to puff up with air and float. So I put it on a bit of newspaper and thrust it out of the window.
I like spiders. One reason that I like spiders is that they, like me, hate flies. I found one of them in the fridge yesterday morning, feasting on my cheese. I mean, how do flies get into the fridge in the first place? I know that spiders crawl up the pipe through the plughole, but I am not the type to open the fridge door, take out the milk, and leave the fridge door open. I close it. So how does a fly get in without me spotting it? Do they work in collusion, with another fly diverting your attention? Is there some kind of David Blaine-like street magic involved? Darned if I know. And why the hell don't the bastards freeze to death? BTW, I didn't thrust the fly out of the window. I smacked it one.
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The trains were screwed this morning, which is actually quite unusual at 6.20am. What was depressingly usual, though, was that the powers-that-be could not get their act together. The train driver said that it was due to signalling problems at London Bridge, while the station informed us that it was due to a failed train between Charing Cross and Waterloo East.
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The destruction to the rear of Lewisham Towers continues apace. All the buildings have gone, but now, in an episode reminiscent of Saruman's destruction of the forests in The Lord of the Rings, the trees are going as well. This will give me, at least for a short while, an uninterrupted view south-west as far as, well, as far as the railway line, actually. I think that I preferred the trees, but it does mean that late at night I have a much longer view of the trains trundling slowly by. This is quite enjoyable, in a watching-Big-Brother kind of way.
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(Warning, an opinion that might be construed as racist is to follow).
Can someone explain to me how a stampede that results in a thousand deaths can be caused by a single cry of "there's a suicide bomber"? Is it part of the Iraqi culture? Suppose someone at a football game in the UK shouted out "suicide bomber!!!" , surely the result would not be a stampede, but a "yeah, right. Oi, ref, are you blind???"
And if you are happen to be in the midst of a suicide bombing campaign (which Baghdad is), mightn't it be a good idea not to gather in your thousands for a pilgrimage? Surely even Mohamed would have uttered sypathetic words to a believer who said "sod that for a lark, mate, that's just the kind of place where I'm likely to get blown up".
I'm trying to think of examples of "mass panic" in Britain, and none spring immediately to mind. There are lots of things wrong with the English tendency to understatement and emotion control, but I suspect that in situations where mass panic is likely to cause hundreds of deaths, the English desire not to appear to panic might be a positive survival mechanism.
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Sick thought of the day. I wonder if, in an attempt to maintain veracity, the Orleans in Las Vegas is to be moved to the lake in front of the Bellagio.
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Then I discovered a spider in the bath. Hardy creatures, spiders. You try to flush them down the loo and they seem to puff up with air and float. So I put it on a bit of newspaper and thrust it out of the window.
I like spiders. One reason that I like spiders is that they, like me, hate flies. I found one of them in the fridge yesterday morning, feasting on my cheese. I mean, how do flies get into the fridge in the first place? I know that spiders crawl up the pipe through the plughole, but I am not the type to open the fridge door, take out the milk, and leave the fridge door open. I close it. So how does a fly get in without me spotting it? Do they work in collusion, with another fly diverting your attention? Is there some kind of David Blaine-like street magic involved? Darned if I know. And why the hell don't the bastards freeze to death? BTW, I didn't thrust the fly out of the window. I smacked it one.
++++
The trains were screwed this morning, which is actually quite unusual at 6.20am. What was depressingly usual, though, was that the powers-that-be could not get their act together. The train driver said that it was due to signalling problems at London Bridge, while the station informed us that it was due to a failed train between Charing Cross and Waterloo East.
+++
The destruction to the rear of Lewisham Towers continues apace. All the buildings have gone, but now, in an episode reminiscent of Saruman's destruction of the forests in The Lord of the Rings, the trees are going as well. This will give me, at least for a short while, an uninterrupted view south-west as far as, well, as far as the railway line, actually. I think that I preferred the trees, but it does mean that late at night I have a much longer view of the trains trundling slowly by. This is quite enjoyable, in a watching-Big-Brother kind of way.
++++
(Warning, an opinion that might be construed as racist is to follow).
Can someone explain to me how a stampede that results in a thousand deaths can be caused by a single cry of "there's a suicide bomber"? Is it part of the Iraqi culture? Suppose someone at a football game in the UK shouted out "suicide bomber!!!" , surely the result would not be a stampede, but a "yeah, right. Oi, ref, are you blind???"
And if you are happen to be in the midst of a suicide bombing campaign (which Baghdad is), mightn't it be a good idea not to gather in your thousands for a pilgrimage? Surely even Mohamed would have uttered sypathetic words to a believer who said "sod that for a lark, mate, that's just the kind of place where I'm likely to get blown up".
I'm trying to think of examples of "mass panic" in Britain, and none spring immediately to mind. There are lots of things wrong with the English tendency to understatement and emotion control, but I suspect that in situations where mass panic is likely to cause hundreds of deaths, the English desire not to appear to panic might be a positive survival mechanism.
++++
Sick thought of the day. I wonder if, in an attempt to maintain veracity, the Orleans in Las Vegas is to be moved to the lake in front of the Bellagio.
+++
