Category: Microposts
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I started reading the Kindle sample for this, but immediately felt anxious that I should spend the remaining weeks of my life doing something more fun, productive, insightful, useful, anything but this…
I had been planning to write about my impressions and such from listening to Four Thousand Weeks but I’m going to buy the book so that I can go through and make notes. While there was nothing that stood out as deeply profound, it was full of thought provoking points that made me want to go away and think a... strandlines.blog
Noel plays his guitar as if he’s scared it will break, and Oasis’s funkless, sexless plod is always carefully pitched below the velocity at which fluid dynamics dictate that you might spill your lager.
I like some Oasis stuff, the early stuff. I like some woke stuff. This quote and picture are true enough and funny, though.
Dead duck.
An unpleasant walk in the midday sun by the canal yesterday.
A few abandoned Lime Bikes (one with its front wheel missing).
Depressing.
Emptying my Feedbin and stumbled across this epic from Christmas Day 2022.
The one where Matthew moves out of Sawtell because it’s too posh and goes to live sober in a homeless shelter in Melbourne with a Croatian who speaks no English (or does he?).
Well, the super secure new lock on our super expensive new front door failed catastrophically today.
I couldn’t get my key out of the lock. We couldn’t lock the door.
The local locksmith arrived within fifteen minutes, diagnosed the problem (“you need a new lock, £180”) and proceeded to spend the best part of an hour removing the broken extra secure lock (finally, reminiscent of the birth of my second son, “it’s out, I’ll have to charge a bit extra…”).
£265!!!
Thankfully the lock is under warranty, but not the labour.
England. Always different, always the same.
Labour’s self-imposed, arbitrary and “binding” “fiscal rules” are the same as the Tories’ Austerity policies.
Political choices.
The same choices.
So much for change.
Original link to the article from 11 years ago:
My polling station was empty when I went to vote around 1:30 pm.
My nearly ten year old looked at the TWELVE names on the ballot.
“Don’t vote Labour, Dad”.
He looked some more.
“There’s Joe!” he said.
“VOTE FOR JOE!”
