Tuesday, 13 June 2006

Right, now the picture thing really is back up and running

This is my nephew, Ben. Tomorrow he will be two months old, no one expected him to live for an hour. He is my little miracle (well, actually my brother and his wife's but you get the idea).

My role in his life is minimal so far. Due to my illness and his we have not been able to meet up. I'm not able to go to Armagh from London just yet and strangely, Ben hasn't learnt to drive yet. Still, the one contribution I have made is to supply him with enough Crystal Palace kits to see him through his first year.
Look kid, if you end up hating football, I will understand. If you end up loving football but hating Crystal Palace, well lets just say that we've all been there.

There is something self-fulfilling about dressing up children in football kits but as the song sung by a gay icon and adapted by some many burly football fans, que sera sera. He will make his own mind and my brother and I can only try to influence his choice for the best. But for those of us amazed and thrilled that he's alive at all, what will be, will be and two months on we should all be happy about that.

Although it only took 30 minutes

to go from
to this
Mind you, even on that first one, central London is obscured by the rain clouds drawing in. It's almost back to normal although the Eye is still obscured. Just.

Another quiet day by the river

Yeah, if I bought that I'd be cross too

"Is it worth it?" once asked Elvis Costello. "Der dum de dum di di dum, it's just a rumour that's been spread around town, somebody said that people get killed in the results of their shipbuilding."
"Why?" I hear you ask. "I have no idea," I reply.
But once thing worries me about the strange rise of World Cupitis. And it's the George Cross, the England flag. I don't mind people buying it and displaying it. What I genuinely don't understand is why people who claim to be so patriotic need to have the Geroge Cross that has England written across it in large letters. We know. We understand. We live in the country. We know what the flag is. Buy the one that actually is the flag. And don't get the ones that have a sponsor (ie the Sun or the News of the World) or the name of the shop writ large upon it (JJB being the main culprit here).
This has pointlessly troubled me since, that rare creature, the Olympic medal winning English athlete, instead of reaching for the union flag, goes for the Geroge Cross from a spectator who bought it in the sports supermarket advertised in the bottom right hand corner of the self-same flag. National pride? I think not.

Good flag (well, within reason)
Bad flag
Very naughty flag

It's a good job I'm ill

The great quest is but a few minutes away from starting. I have bought a desk, a cheap desk, a self-assembly desk but a desk that the store said can only be delivered. It will turn up today. I was given a time. Well, in truth it could be any time between 8 and 6.
So, today I shall sit and wait. And wait. And wait. And time my trips to the toilet very carefully.
Wish me luck.

Dear Mr Blogspot

Any chance of letting me post some pictures? They're really nice ones. Go on. Please?