Saturday, 28 February 2009

Not much to say...

as all I'm doing at the moment is working and commuting - I tend to read on the train, unless its been a really bad week and then I stare out the window at the familiar suburban landscape, so I am racing through the books.

But I have recently, thanks to the wonderful Library Thing Early reviewers programme, fallen in love with the poetry of Robert Burns through Andrew O'Hagan's excellent book A Night Out with Robert Burns. Being English, and southern English at that, Burns has always been, to me, a bit of a sentimental Scottish cliche - there's a drunken Scotsman who always seems to be staggering through St Martin's Lane, muttering "A Red Red Rose" when I'm on my way home, which is in itself a testament to Scottish education as the average drunken Englishman can at best manage, "Come on show us your tits" - and don't get me started on "Auld Lang Syne".

Burns is much more than this, he was a political poet, just read this, which O'Hagan puts into context with an extract from an MOD release announcing the death of a 19 year old Highland Fusilier in Basra in 2004:

I Murder Hate

I murder hate by field or flood,
Tho' glory's name may screen us;
In wars at home I'll spend my blood,
Life giving wards of Venus;
The deities that I adore
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I'm better pleased to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.-

I would not die like Socrates,
For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonadas,
Nor yet I would with Cato:
The Zealots of the Church, or State,
Shall ne'er my mortal foes be,
But let me have bold ZIMRI's fate,
Within the arms of COSBI!-

Tuesday, 17 February 2009

Children say the funniest things...

A five year old was jumping up and down on the train station platform over-excitedly yelling "Hurry up and come Mr Train we're going to Slough"!

Sunday, 8 February 2009

Working too hard...

and too much, to post. Still commuting, so still reading.

In the meantime someone forwarded this to me at work.

Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing!
6:00 pm - Oooh, Bath . Bummer!!!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!

Cat's Diary

Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Ba$tards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.................