That was the season that was

So, Merry Christmas. The Premiership is gone with the loss to MU, the League cup with the loss to Chelsea. And now we have Inter, run away leaders of the Italian League. So, that's the season gone right there.


So, here's to 2008/9

Happy new year.

Hey, I missed November

Listening to Central Reservation, Beth Orton.

I appear to have missed out November. First time. Says something about my month. And now 2 in a day.

Click on the Link - I find it rather romantic.

Outside it's Blade Runner

For what seems no good reason I find myself in Kuala Lumpur. It is night and raining. And indeed, it appears to be Blade Runner. Ok, there are no flyers and I have not actually seen Deckard hunting replicants, but apart from that this is it exactly. Constant warm rain, glowing neon, a sky the colour of tv tuned to a dead channel, mixed English and Asian languages, every nationality under the sun. Or rather the rain.

The future is now - just not evenly distributed.

The fusion of William Gibson and Blade Runner reminds me that WG had to leave the cinema when watching the film because he was seeing the Neuromancer in his head on the screen. And somehow they merge in the real world.

Rust never sleeps

But insurance claims do seem to. We are nearing the anniversary of when a well known supermarket (begins with T, ends with Esco) dropped off the weekly shop and drove off with a cheery wave, taking out the side of the purple people carrier on the way. The first I knew about this was when a passing motorist rang the doorbell and asked "is that your PPC that Tesco have just hit?" Unluckily for me I did not take her details. Luckily for me another guy stopped and gave me his, and offered to be a witness.

Insurance paid up apart from my excess, and promised to repay that when they got the money back. We are now getting ready to go to court. Court! What a ridiculous thing. The delivery guy says there was no accident, and so both sides are merrily running up legal bills and threatening to waste court time.

Well I was always interested in legal proceedings. Looks like I will get to see them up close.

Gagarin

Yuri Gagarin appears to be in fact film critic Mark Kermode.


Whilst this would explain why Mark's hairstyle is more appropriate to the 50's, it does beg the question of why he has not aged. Obviously, he is some kind of Soviet super soldier, a la Steve Rodgers, better known as Captain America. Well, known to some anyhow. And thus the hidden conspiricies in the world are laid bare.





Don't rush to thank me.

I remember the future

Today is the 50th Anniversary of Sputnik 1. And the breadcrumbs have never known a man on the moon. I imagined a different future.

There were only just over 50 years from the Wright Brothers to space, and only 12 from the first satellite to man walking on the moon. There has been little progress since. The X-prize may have stimulated interest in private enterprise launching space flights, but in reality these are sub-orbital hops. Not the real thing. I suspect, but hope I am wrong, that interest will die quickly when the routine flights start.

It is a long way to the moon. We don't think about it. Colleagues asked me to help them with a plan to "walk to the moon" to improve fitness. It is difficult to explain that all the interesting stuff happens in the first 10 miles, and then there is more or less nothing to report for a quarter of a million (we can ignore a few Lagrange points). We live in the layer of paint and varnish on a globe. The highest mountain is only 8 miles high, on a planet that is near enough 4 000 miles in diameter. A mere bobble. Space starts in earnest after 100miles. Still insignificant really.

Space is hard. But when I was growing up I thought we would be doing better than this. Here's to Laika, and Gagarin, and Ed White, and Neil Armstrong. And the first man on Mars. I wonder if he is even born yet.

Bat cheez burger

Thank mightgodking, not me.

Is that assigning credit, or blame?

TV now broken. Of course it is. It is 14 months old, and therefore 2 months out of warranty. That is actually quite reasonable. I mean who expects an £800 tv to last?

It then took me until 9pm to make the digibox work with the spare tv. Of course if I had RTFM it might not have taken that long. All I had to do was press reset, hold down the pause and stop buttons, then press FF until I selected SD not HDrni. Obvious really. Can you read the sarcasm?

The best bit is that seeing the 17" replacing the 37", Kid A asked "did you shrink the tv?" Almost made the whole thing worthwhile.

win some lose some

So, the roof leaks and damages the house. Both will cost £800 to fix. The insurance will pay one, but not the other. Not much choice is there?

TV

Mrs Breadcrumb has been away from home earning a crust. What splendid timing, since it co-incides with the Mighty Reds crushing Reading in the League Cup, and a number of excellent documentaries.

Torres is really looking the part. There was a coolness in his hattrick against Reading that just made you feel he could not miss. He is a class apart, and I can feel a Reds hero in development. Nothing against Crouch or Kuyt, but not since Owen have we had striker you feel is going to score. And terrorises defenders.

On tv as well as a Factory documentary (the history of Factory is the nearest thing I would have to a Mastermind subject) there have been some interesting comics documentaries. In search of Steve Ditko was not really illuminating (mainly because he refuses to talk), and Comics Brittania though interesting wasn't that exciting. In search of Mobius was great though. For the first time I could really see the Moebius contribution to Alien. The art is still so fantastic, though it appears that Giraud himself is less fabulous. He himself says that everything is second to his art. Lots of people applauded his genius - none called themselves his friend.

Winter Blues

I am sure that the reason I am so down is because of the change of the seasons, and not because we have run out of money (again), there is a hole in the roof, and I have no work coming in. That would be just crazy talk.

And of course I am fat, which doesn't help. Though apparently I lost 2 kg over the week, I gained 6 kg over the summer. This should help protect me through the winter when the heating is cut off and rain pours in through the roof. So, a bright side, eh?

Bill Bailey Kraftwerk spoof Das Hokey Cokey

You can't argue, can you?

Things fall apart

One of those days. Lost my laptop power cable. Remote for the car doesn't work. They days when everything electric is cursed.
Of course this is all really just because I have just found out that I have put on 5 kg during the summer. Suddenly the folds of fat feel obvious around my midrift. So, for 30 seconds or so I am dedicated to fighting the flab and cutting down on the chocolate, and stepping up the exercise.

But no doubt only for 30 seconds.

I think I would be happy to replace an addition to exercise for several of my other additions.

A cunning plan

Apparently it is a year since Steve Irwin was offed by a "stingray". Now Steve Fossett is "missing" in the Nevada desert? Coincidence? I think not. Obviously there is a serial killer on the loose intent on murdering adventurers called Steve. Now if only we could work out why this particular day is so important.

Celebrity Politics

Last night we voted for a pop star (well, technically a drummer) to be put forward as a candidate to be our local MP. Not sure what this actually says about the democratic process. But at least I am participating. 28 candidates, and 5 or 6 have gone through to the next phase. The rules say that we have to have one women and one BME candidate out of our 3 nominations - in practice the two best candidates (for entirely different reasons) were both white males who don't live in the area. Isn't democracy funny? Meanwhile our previous MP who lost his seat when I moved here, is about to stand as a candidate in my home constituency. Small world. Good news was there were was a reasonable number of people attending the selection meeting - about the same as the number of candidates. In such a way do we contribute to the global democracy - from village halls to number 10. It is a vanishingly small number of people who bestirr themselves to get involved. Imperfect though it is, if you don't get involved you really don't have much say.

Silly Season

A bit of warmth, but an autumn wind in the air. It is still the silly season for news though. Last night's 10 o'clock news had a feature on how there is still peace in Northern Ireland. Good news, but a bit of a sign that not a lot else is happening.

The Mighty Reds, having disposed of Toulouse in old Big Ears, have got Porto, Marseille and Beskitas. Could have been worse. But realistically you would expect the top seeds to get through. Given that that is the 4 English clubs, the 2 Milans and Real and Barca, I can see how UEFA are beginning to think the system needs a shake up.

Jim Shooter going back to LoSH? That would be news (for about a thousand of us worldwide).

Version

Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before. Can't get it out of my head. Like the Go! Team I am thinking of it as a form of brain cancer, when it is just a very sucessful meme.
Back to work, and soon the breadcrumbs will be back at school. Time for the Boo Radleys - "summers gone..."

The boy who cried at Happy Birthday

A refugee from About a boy was at the Breadcrumb's birthday party. He had a handmade jumper, hand made cards and present, and cried at loud noises. He was a vegetarian. Poor lamb - a world of pain awaits. The world of children, who are cruel and relentless.

Other than that a success. Though the divisions between the kids from the schemes and the kids from the middle classes grow bigger by the day. As do the number of single parents. We fit in and don't fit in with all of them.

Breadcrumb Day

Do you mean you don't celebrate Breadcrumb Day?

One more year and they can say "now we are 6".

You are old father time

The breadcrumbs reach 5 tomorrow, but we are holding back celebrations till Thursday. Luckily they are still too young to realise that they are being conned.

As was referee Rob Stiles on Sunday when he gave Chelsea a penalty at Anfield for Malouda throwing himself at Steve Finnan. At least he has apologised, but a probable win has been turned into a disappointing draw.

I was not there because I was learning valuable life lessons at Centre Parcs. The first of these is that the breadcrumbs are heavy, and the second is that I am not a golfer. My first ever driving practice left the shed peppered with dents, and the driving range miraculously untroubled by golf balls. It was a laugh though. And now I ache, ache, ache. All over.

Slow learner/Partition

Having discovered Portishead about a decade later, I would now like to go even further back and finally declare Loveless by My Bloody Valentine one of the great albums of all time. I've always loved Soon, but I think that I was resentful of them damaging my hearing on the Rollercoaster tour (Mary chain, MBV, Dinosaur Jnr and Blur. Yes, that Blur). 1 minute of pure noise is a cleanser for the palatte. 10 minutes is industrial noise damage. Anyway, thanks to the randomness of I-tunes I have been getting odd blasts of MBV which then carve permanent tracks into my brain. Listening to the whole thing at fuck off stupid noise it just works. Next I will be declaring my love for Wire, and going back to 1977 to start all over. (Can you spot the link pop pickers?

Changing tracks disconcertingly, watched a programme on the Partition of India. God, what a sad affair. The saddest thing was watching an old Sikh talking about his father and uncle beheading all the women in the family because of the risk of them being captured and raped by Muslims. How unspeakable. And apparently carried out in silence, with the women co-operating. The Father started with his own daughter. Makes you wonder about the human race. The one bright bit was a Hindi refugee from Lahore, who rather than blaming the Muslims, blamed Hindus for mistreating them in the first place leading to them wanting their own country. But Pakistan was forged in blood, and not got much happier since. Religion is a blight on the face of the planet. Human beings just can't get the "love one another" bit, and use it as an excuse for killing. And killing in revenge. And then killing because they killed us.

Thank God I am an atheist.

AHW RIP

Anthony H Wilson, late of Factory records, is now late. And Manchester is the lesser for it.


He changed my life by showing me the Sex Pistols, and then signing Joy Division. I never made it to the Hacienda - too shy. Which sounds oddly like Morrisey.


So now that generation is passing or gone - Wilson, Curtis, Hannett and Gretton. Odd firm of accountants. Never good with money. Or rather, never good at keeping it. Tony Wilson's obiturary should probably be that Factory record's HQ had the first Zinc roof in Manchester. But you could only see it from a helicopter. Sums it all up.
I can't explain but it is very Manchester.



Last night I heard an acoustic version of Love will Tear us Apart on Grey's anatomy, the No.1 show in the USA. I still can't understand why either Joy Division where not huge in 1980, or seem to have become so now. A Velvet Underground for a different generation.

Mindless

Group of asian youths went along the street and kicked in all the driver's side mirrors at 2:10am. Pointles, mindless and expensive for me, my asian neighbour, my 90 year old neighbour, my single mother neighbour and at least one other (don't know whose car it is).

Not a good start to the day.

Like a Motorway

One of my favourite tracks ever - a remix of Like a Motorway by St. Etienne. Not really my cup of tea at all. What it reminds me of is a drunken night in Belgium with a group of friends where we dramatically overestimated the number of limes needed for Margharitas, and emptied the local supermarket. Weended up drinking Tequilla until we had finished the limes. The rest of the weekend is a bit of a blur to be honest - apart from a vision of six of us lying on one double bed watching MTV ambient at 4am. Sounds just like this track. Honest.

Meanwhile, in real life - why do I get a cold when the weather finally turns nice?

Fair Exchange

Be Bop Deluxe. The joy of i-tunes. This still summons up 1973 for me, and a battered 45 that I made a sleeve for out of a couple of adverts in the NME.
Also, still on the retro kick, finally watched the last 3 episodes of Angel. I find David Boreanez difficult to like, because he so obviously thinks that this is beneath him. The rest is just fantastic, and the sparring between Angel and Spike wonderful. I hadn't seen the Ilyria episodes, and so had not realised what an excellent actress Amy Acker is. Honestly. The Fred thing is not the limit of her abilities. And delightful to see Alec Baldwin again, even if he is basically playing Jane in a suit. Browncoats will understand.

Meanwhile, another payday has rolled around. Damn you George W Bush. Will you stop driving the dollar down? Some of us have to take them home to countries with real currencies.

Going over old ground

Am back in the land of the future present, where the world's tallest building is still taking shape. Curiously though, I am revisiting old DVD favourites. Ok, I know these things are self-evident but Farscape, Serenity and Buffy are really good. Honest.

So far failed to source dodgy bootleg Dr Who DVDs, so the breadcrumbs are looking at disappointment. Still at least they can have fun building Arks again. Blighty is sinking, and me, I live by the river... ok, no I don't.

So, being retro - here is Chriss Foss. The way the future used to look.

Philanthropy/Yellow Ribbon

Well, I'm going home as soon as I eat my tea, have a shower, finish this blog and pack. Easy for 35 minutes...

So, I was thinking. Mainly because of an articlein Psychology Today of 10 politically incorrect truths, that there is probably no such thing as philanthropy. We are all the same gene machines, and anything any of us does to save the planet will help our genes along too. So, every do-gooder is really selfish. Just pointing it out...

Life's great imponderables

Why does every allegedly international hotel have to have a coctail bar with some national signing songs they have learnt phoentically in an endlessly booming karoake of the damned?
What is wrong with silence? Or piped music? Or god forbid, something that might actually reflect where you are?

Meanwhile in my so called glamourous life, why is it so hard of hotels to sort out the internet connections that they charge us an arm and leg for?

But these are rich person's complaints, which are shown up as rather hollow when I read about the construction workers in Dubai earning 500dh per month. That is £70, or $140. Per month. And they send money home from that.

Punch up at the 7-11

Unkansas. So there I am at the check out, slowly losing the will to live, when these two guys come pushing and shoving up the steps to the door. Suddenly one lamps the other, who falls down, and follows it up with a kick to the groin. No mean feat on slippery steps. Then both parties run off into the night, while the youths on the steps beat a rhythm on the steps with bottles, showing that they could easily be broken into weapons. So what is the protocol for this?

I've been trying to avoid there being forever a corner of a foreign field that is forever an English pedestrian by obeying the crossing signals. But that does not save you from motherfuckers on motorbikes going the wrong way up 4 lane one way streets, with no lights, against the signals. I mean, what does?

I'm not really abroad, but in Crowne Plaza world. The third world is just around the corner, but in here we are in the first world. And beer is reassuringly expensive. For the hotel that is. For me it is just prohibitive.

Hijabs and hookers. More than one culture clash. But me I am in a cocoon.

Wake up Boo

Genetics is an odd thing. Junior Miss Breadcrumb naturally shares a genetic mix with Kid A. Sadly for all concerned, Kid A, Mrs Breadwinner and me are all predisposed to lying in late. Jnr Miss takes after her grandmother, and Mrs Breadwinner's sisters, and believes that the best of the day is done by 7am. This is going to be a drag for a long, long time. For all of us.

Funnily enough, Jnr miss realises that she takes after Gran - and told me that she looks like Gran. Kid A took himself off to look in a mirror, and announced that he looked like Uncle Simon.
Me and Mrs Breadwinner will be having words...

All but an ark lark

Day four on the Big Brother Ark. Noah is washing his hair. Shem, Ham and Japeth are feeding the animals. The Unicorns have decided to go for a swim...

Will it ever stop bloody raining? Ok, I know that this week combines Glastonbury with Wimbledon, but there is no cricket so it doesn't have to be torrential. What do you bet there is a hosepipe ban?

And the bloody Intertoto cup has started. Isn't there supposed to be a bit of the year with no real football?

Hits of Glastonbury: Arctic Monkeys, Go! Team, the Coral, Kaiser Chiefs.

But the Who were rubbish.

Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.

Summer's gone

Well that didn't last long. No more heatwave. Now we are building Arks. And there is a Sheffield flood.
Luckily the holiday was last week, and went fine. Though I am having acid flashbacks about 7 foot tall Woodpeckers. And then I see the photos and discover they were real.

So, in dedicated work avoidance am busy buying old CDs on E-bay. Downloading is not killing the music business, but e-bay must be doing some damage. Why buy a new Tracey Thorn CD when you can buy some music hacks unwanted review copy (in a really nice limited edition sleeve) for £4. Including postage. Delivered to my door. Sure beats going to HMV.

Summer's here

How do I know? Reggae sounds good again.

And no I don't want to talk about the European cup final.

And so it begins

Well, couple of hours to the Champions League final. Time for optimism. Time for realism comes later. It will be great if we can do it, but the odds are against us.
Last time I was in my local pub - this time in a bar in a far away country. Time moves on.
I never actually thought we would ever again reach the final, let alone win it - let alone reach a second final in three years. A pretty good achievement in itself. Come on you Reds.

THE GO BETWEENS - Right Here

Oh, God. Watching this again, can somebody please tell me why the Go-Betweens weren't big as U2, or at least Grant a major solo star?

A year since Grant died, and still the rockstar I miss the most. Purely because now there will be no more songs.

Alone again, Or..

Alone again naturally
All by myself
Just like starting over
It takes too
Helterskelter
It's all over now
Who's sorry now?
With or without you
Pick yourself up, and start right over again.

So, back in business for myself. On me tod. By me sen.
Hey, ho, let's go.

A stitch in time

The wounds don't heal until you take the stitches out...
Mole has gone, but the wound remains.

You can revisit the past - but it sits nervously on the edge of the sofa, and never relaxes.
Why should it?

When does being cryptic become enigmatic? Or profound, even?
Oh, never mind.

Groundhog day

So, AC Milan vs. Liverpool FC, the rematch.
Looks like narrativium rules.

Gordon Bennet it was a tense evening against Chelsea. I didn't enjoy a minute of it until it was over. Seconds of it were quite good, but nothing lasting for 60 seconds or more.

I remember a Jasper Carrott sketch that started with him saying "I got a mole". Well I don't. Do have a lot of stitches and a big scar though.

tonight's the night

Chelsea vs. Liverpool - the rematch.
As they say in Star Wars, I have a bad feeling about this...

Thou shalt always kill

Warren Ellis thinks he was slow to this. I got it from his website. What does that make me?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-MYVv4tgQc

No, seriously. Dan le Sac vs. Scoobius Pip. I would say it was the bomb, but I think that is one of the thou shalt nots.

what were they thinking?

A wonderwomen strip taken from the blog of the above name.

Can tentacle sex be far behind?

I have a bad feeling about this...

So, the Mighty Reds are through to the Semis of the European Cup, where we will play.... (cue drumroll) ... Chelsea. Groundhog day. And this time it is personal.
What worries me more than the fact that they owe us one, and are actually a better team than us, is that if we lose it could set up another Man U vs Chelsea match. Possibly the third in 2 weeks which will deterimine who wins the Premiership, FA Cup and European Cup. Groundhog Day.
The universe's driving force ((C) T. Pratchett) is narrativium - which means a good story overrules everything else. It would be such a good story that I really don't think we have a chance of getting past Chelsea if Man Utd beat AC Milan.
Our only chance is for Milan to be the red scum, and then narrativium dictates that we will beat Chelsea and set up a repeat of Istanbul. But in Athens...
Groundhog day. You know it is true. You may not believe it, but you know it is true.

"It's deja vu all over again" - Yogi Berra

What a long strange journey it is...

25 years of Love and Rockets. We are both getting old. I remember reading these as they came out (and I could afford them) in a housing association flat with the first of the white cats. And I am re-reading Locas from the beginning.

Now, back to work...

The kids are alright

Indeed they are. I finally met with a selection of the often mentioned (and maligned) youth of today, and you know what? They are fine. Probably less spotty and more together than I was at their age.
Every generation thinks that their parents (and grandparents) were gods, and that they are the last civilised generation. Every generation is wrong. There were no golden ages. There will be no monsters raised entirely by Playstation 3.

You think we would learn...

For the dead

Music by Gene.
One of those times. Couple of people I heard about but didn't know have died young (ish). It happens every day, and one day most of the world will never know when it happens to you, me and everyone we know. Unless it is really out of the ordinary.

Love your family, love your friends, love everyone.
It is a short day in the sun.

to serve them all our days

Apparently, Russian fishermen have found a strange alien creature making squeeking noises ... and eaten it. Let's hope it does not have friends who come a looking. Unless of course they say, "It's ok - Fred did look sort of delicious", and don't follow it up with "and so do your children. Can I borrow some ketchup?".

http://english.pravda.ru/science/mysteries/07-02-2007/87167-alien_monster-0

In other news, Pravda is still going? In other, other news, there is a Russian Fark?

Picture is a New York grafitti artist. Nice isn't it?
Title is from Microdisney

Context is everything

Two matches, sucessive 0-1 defeats after outplaying our opponents. Two different reactions. Losing to the Scum was gutting, losing to Barca but still putting out the best team in the world completely different. The Scum should win the Premiership - they have the luck. We could easily have won three or four nil.
But now I am dreading the draw for the Champions League - I really want a foreign club, but it could be that 4 of the 7 are British (more realistically, forget Celtic).

Curiously Mrs Breadwinner is Barca for a few days trying to earn a shekel or two. Leaving me with the breadcrumbs and more work than I can manage. So, I'm not managing and mainly letting it wash over the top of me. Life is not helped by a kind of collective nervous breakdown by the family technology. Amongst the victims are the Purple People Carrier, the washing machine and at least one of the DVD players.

Don't get me started on the fucking Virgin/Sky debacle. Tonight I missed Battlestar Galactica for the first week. The fuckers are going to pay for that.

The short, sharp cut is healing nicely. Stitches out tomorrow.

out, out damn spot

So, a small vertical incision, and a biopsy. Do you think it will make me look hard? Maybe be some protection for when the Mighty Reds play the Scum tomorrow lunchtime. Or maybe a provocation. Who knows.

Meanwhile Virgin Media are denying me my Battlestar Galactica. To say the least I am pissed (in the American sense of the phrase). Where do they think they get off? "it was too expensive, so we decided to drop it and not pass the savings along to you..." Jeez. What a shower.

To quote the most excellent Ms Winehouse, what kind of Fuckery is this?

I feel like getting all Executioner one Richard Branson's ass. This is probably my favourite page in comics. Certainly top 5 along with Cerebus and the countess, The Death of Speedy and death of the Invisible Man in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and you are in here with me from Watchmen. In case you need a clue it is from Walt Simonson's Thor.

NSFW - but funnier than real comics

I recommend http://mightygodking.livejournal.com/

A guy reworking the dialogue of Marvel Civil War for comic effect. And it is funny. Even though I have never read the original. If you look it up, see if you too think that the artist has got a real thing going for Dagger (or is it Cloak) - the white jumpsuit looks like it has been drawn by photoreferencing a whole bunch of porn. Or is it just me?

(Scans daily motto: It's never just you...)

Words of Wisdom - from Douglas Adams

"Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so."-- Douglas Adams (1952-2001)

Ain't that the truth?

Aeroplane stars

"You have to sing to aeroplane stars."

Words of advice from Kid A.

... you might as well live

So the docs seem to think that I'll survive having a mildly disfigouring and not at all uncomfortable spot on my face. Even if it is technically a cancer. They seem determined to talk me out of surgery. Wonder if they will change their minds if they find out I have health insurance?

Anyway reasons to go on living include the third League of ExtraOrdinary Gentlemen. Sadly not with us until 2008. And not understood until 2009. If you've only ever seen the film, you will not understand that this is a big deal.

Current Listening - Ladykillers by Lush, and a load of Go-betweens.

Jesus. I'm Arthur C Clarke

Which is something of a surprise, you have to admit. All those years I never knew.
Though I did read quite a lot of him when I was a kid.
See below.

Off now to see a plastic surgeon. Second time in my life I've been told "there is a million to one chance that you have cancer". So, realistically I've only got 999, 998 chances left. Trouble is that I have read my Pratchett, and therefore know that million to one shots work nine times out of ten. It's the narrativium.

I am: Arthur C. Clarke Well known for nonfiction science writing and for early promotion of the effort toward space travel, his fiction was often grand and visionary.

Which science fiction writer are you?

But seriously

this is ridiculous. Not to mention unfeasible.

But funny, though.

Grey's anatomy

Curiously hooked by this. Serious Scrubs? Flipant House? ER for kids?
All of the above, but still very enjoyable and leads to ploughing through the DVDs.
The rental company must hate us - we have a couple of series on almost next day return. The postage alone must be a killer. What are they?
ER (Mrs Breadcrumb only)
Battlestar Galactica
Supernatural
Lost
Grey's anatomy

And funnily enough I was not convinced by the idea of any of them.
Meanwhile, the hard disc drive on the cable is still full of last years "things we think we will watch".

Luckily the twin thrashings by Arsenal are not recorded for posterity in this household, nor ever mentioned. You hear me? Never mentioned!

Michale Caine

Thomas Midgeley made two contributions to our modern world. He invented both lead additives for petrol, thereby poisoning most of us living in cities, and CFCs, which destroy the Ozone layer and speed global warming.

Not a lot of people know that ...

Now I may not have actually done anything today, but you've got to admit that is an improvement on old TM....

When I grow up to be a man

How touching can you get? Kid A has been telling me that he dreamt of being a big boy, but he doesn't think he will be one because he doesn't get any bigger.

All too soon, the days will flow all to quick my boy. All too soon.

hello, it's 2007

Seems quite futuristic really. Not a real date at all.
So, I'm back. And the piles of bills are not really threatening at all.

This is posted with New Blogger. Being a Luddite, I was quite happy with
the previous version that was as basic as I could cope with. I am a real fan of "good enough" technology. Which is why my mobile phone is 3 years old.