the sanctuary:
I LOVE YOU!
weblog| writing| reviews| flickr| Mothcast
4th place is not a fancy term for losing
Well, all things considered, the Olympics went very well for Britain - or "Team GB" as we inexplicably seem to be calling our collected athletes - and we managed to valiantly fend off the twin challenges of Germany and Australia (the latter, oddly, being the more satisfying win since the Aussies can't quite believe it). We held out against the Russians until right near the end, too. I suppose being a monolitic superpower helps at the Olympics - China, USA, Russia. Hmm, what a startling top three. Still, 4th place is HUGE (and we were in THIRD for A REALLY LONG TIME which totally COUNTS), and better than we've done in decades.
There's a thing outside Tate Modern - it'll be gone soon - which is sponsored bumf from Adidas. We went down there a few weeks ago, before the Olympics, and there's this map. Sort of, not a map really. The absence of a map. It has dots and then people's names, and it's Team GB and where they come from. The dots give you a pretty good idea of the shape of Britain. It's quite cool, really. Anyway, we sort of looked at it and we went "Oh, look, right up at the top there's... Chris Hoy on his own. Ha ha, poor old Chris Hoy. Wonder who he is?"
Went back there yesterday, and it was like "Oh, there's Chris Hoy.. and Tom Daley down in the West Country (though where's Pete Waterfield, eh?).. and Shanaze Reade* in Crewe, and Christine Ohuruogu** and... hey, where's Rebecca Adlington?" Suddenly these people are household names. And rightly so. I'm usually fairly ambivalent about national sporting success, and sport in general is not my thing at all, but I've really enjoyed the Olympics in Beijing and have felt quite excited and proud by our national achievements. Yes, they have my approval and I'm sure their lives are enriched by that.
*yeah, she didn't win, but watching BMX because she was in it has shown me that BMX racing ROCKS.
**I've sort of got how to pronounce that now, but not spell it so apologies if it's wrong.
Oh, and
Titles are for chumps.
Not this week
I keep thinking "What's the harm if I take a week off blogging?" Well, nothing in the real world. But I quite like doing this, it gives me something to try to think about, and I know if I let myself off one time... well, slippery slope to abandonment.
This email, writing it out, almost feels like work. Yes, I blog by email. That's why I never format it, or put links in. A picture, like the one a few weeks ago, is EFFORT and TIME.
This is my life: I lost my umbrella. The next day it pisses with rain.
That makes me sound a bit pessimistic. I'm not, actually. I'm rather an optimist, and I just keep looking around on my bus into work, hoping that this will be the one that I left it on and it'll still be there, wedged down the side of a seat. Not seen it yet, but here's hoping!
I'd like to mention that the exact circumstance which I anticipated when I said I wouldn't comment on Big Brother when it was fresh has come to pass. I reckon my early post would have said that Rex was great and I liked him. Hooboy, imagine that! I wouldn't have used the words "Pointy-headed bellend" at any point! Madness and folly.
Here endeth the lesson.
and whose army?
The spiders are back, back, back! I'm starting to wonder where they come from. I mean, I evicted one from the ceiling above the shower with the ol' cup and card before I got in. Halfway through washing my hair I look up and there's another one which was, I swear, nowhere to be seen scant moments before. To my surprise I just sort of shrugged and got on with my shower, but really this is too much. I had to get rid of four before showering the other day. They're taking the piss.
And the ripping sounds every time you open the door! If we didn't open it fairly regularly we'd be trapped in - untended, the hallway would be Shelob's lair. I'm happy to report, however, that the front of the house is being painted in the next few weeks so their days are numbered. A hard rain is going to fall, Incey-Wincey. A hard rain of brushing.
Facts about Whitstable
I was asked if I knew anything about Whitstable. I do not, but a challenge is a challenge, and here are some definitely 100% TRUE FACTS about a town I've never thought about.
For a start, I'm going to assume it's in Dorset, as it sounds like it should be. It has a small shopping mall which no-one likes but everyone visits. In this mall there is a Boot's, a Footlocker, a chinese herbal remedy shop, a pound shop, Game, Millie's Cookies, WH Smiths and a small independent bookshop which deals exclusively in first editions of the great occult works.
There is a large Allied Carpets on the edge of town, next to a Tesco with a belltower, which is only used during gas leaks or when the Great Beast of Whitstable is loose again, devouring shoppers and generally being a bit of a nuisance.
Only five people called "George" have ever lived in Whitstable, but they never met. People still talk about "The Georges", and it's a captial offence in Whitstable to name your child George because it would get dead confusing, like.
On May Eve every year, a man dressed as a pantomime horse parades through the streets of Whitstable, beating a drum and making small children run through his legs to bring their household good fortune. This is thought to be an old tradition, but in fact the man with the horse costume made it up in the sixties.
There is one hotel in Whitstable, The Hun's Repose, which became famous in the 1740s as a meeting-place for witches and demons. Even now, it's impossible to get a decent beer because a witch cursed the barrels after the landlord refused to start a tab for her. How a pub which sells notoriously poor-quality beer maintains its status in a small town is unknown, but it's thought that the seats are very comfy.
When visiting Whitstable, keep your valuables in a large wooden trunk and display them only when questioned by the landlord of The Hun's Repose if you can afford a room for the night. Do not wear a cap, hat, crown, headscarf or tiara when visiting Whitstable as the locals regard hair as lucky.
Whitstable was flooded in the 1970s when the river Whit was dammed, but the residents don't let that sort of thing get them down. SCUBA gear is available for visitors in the nearby town of Hindbury.
Heatwave
It's been hot, hasn't it? I'm glad to see cloud over London today, but I can't say that I'm convinced it's not going to be the kind of cloud which keeps the heat in. Once I step out of the aircon I wonder if I'll melt like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Oh, speaking of which, I sent Lego Indy back to LoveFilm after completing it 100% totally. I rock Lego Indiana Jones. Don't say I don't, because I do. Anyway, my replacement arrived. You know how sometimes you put games on for a laugh? Yeah, well, now I have My Horse and Me at home. It's rock hard! I mean, the grooming bit is easy. The bit where you choose your jodhpurs is a breeze. But riding the horse? Major hard. The remote and nunchuk act at reins, and they're not forgiving. I spent most of my playing time with my horse in reverse, which is clearly all wrong.
archive
mail me
