Groovy, baby.

Some friends, the Old Boy and I, went to a Herman’s Hermits’ concert last night. I said to them, “We’re sharing a table with some strangers. They’ll probably be wrinkly-dinklies and Herman’s Hermits’ tragics. You know the sort. They’ll know every single song and go ‘Woo!’ at the end of each one. We’re just going to have to be gracious and not let that bother us.” The hall was set up with large tables, plenty of room between each one and a bar at the back of the room. It looked like a wedding reception. There was even an usher at the door with a floor plan to help us find our table. When we sat down I asked the people next to me, “Are you friends of the bride or groom?” They...

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Everyday heroes

Looking back over the week that was, one could easily fall into despair. In Boston, happy families waiting to cheer a family member over the winning line, are blown up. We’re still not sure why. An earthquake rumbles in Pakistan and so far 35 are dead and 150 wounded; many more are left homeless. A fertiliser factory in Texas explodes and devastates half a town. Another drone in Afghanistan kills some more children. An old politician dies in the UK and the usually sedate, respectful Britons dance and cheer as if she was another Hitler. It’s the tenth anniversary for the prisoners in Guantanamo; still waiting to be charged with a crime. An attention seeking mother deliberately poisons her little daughter with chemotherapy drugs. Dolphins are dying in...

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Good one, Will!

I gather Shakespeare will be celebrating his birthday soon. Congratulations, old boy! (Really old boy…Really dead old boy.) I confess I’m not his biggest fan. We studied his plays every year in high school English. I knew, in the very first lesson, that I was in for a long, hard road. The man wrote in English but we still needed an interpreter. Our teacher would analyse  practically every… single…line. The characters talked in a weird way; a sort of hybrid between poetry and normal speech. The only times I didn’t mind Shakespeare’s work was when we saw film versions of his plays. (Taming of the Shrew , Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet were the standouts.)  I always did extremely well in English (the only subject I got As in every...

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Spam on toast.

I find myself bemused by my regular spammers They’re a persistent lot, but not that smart. Now that I’ve been blogging for a couple of years (doesn’t time whizz past when you’re busy living?) I’ve realised there are certain types and each seems to stick to their own. 1. The helpful: I think what you’re doing is great and I want to help you generate more traffic to your blog. This can be done by purchasing my SEO, app, techno-doodad. My response? Rack off, hairy legs. 2. The encourager: Keep up the good work man/dude/guy/guys! (Look at my photo; please!  Perhaps I need more make-up, or a new hairdo, or collagen in my lips.) This is followed by a link to their own website, which is a sales page. 3. The socially connected: My...

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