It just ain’t going down chez Reed
Saturday. A whole Saturday with nothing to do in it but watch the laundry dry. I should be cooking up a very long and eloquent post about something important, like Charlotte’s post on AIDS - I mean, I have the time.
I also have a headache and freezing-cold hands and feet. And a mouse in the flat (damn all rodents to rodenty hell). And an uneasy feeling I ought to be studying. There is always an ‘ought to be studying’, though and I am getting very good at ignoring it. This will probably bite me on the arse at some unspecified time, no doubt in conjunction with a deadline.
NaBloPoMo, I suppose, means you get to watch me being uninspired, gloomy, dull. Lucky lucky you.
While lying in bed under a heap of toast-crumbs this morning, I distinctly heard someone on the radio announce that Norman Mailer had died. When I went over to the BBC News site to confirm this, I also saw them front-paging a story about how Kate Moss, whoever the hell she is, mistook David Cameron for a plumber. I can’t think what I am more grumpy about, that we’ve lost that irascible old marvel Mailer, or that the BBC puts such sleb-flavoured foam on the same front page.
Though, possibly, the Nation does need to know just what a colossal dork Cameron actually, cheerfully, and self-confessedly is.
November 11th, 2007 at 9:03 am
The really interesting question is whether or not Kate Moss cares>/i> that she doesn’t know who Cameron is? The subtext of the whole story is how much Cam would care if anyone thought he was un-hip enough not to know who she was.
Incidentally, I never know what politicians look like because I never watch television. I do know what they sound like though. Bastards.
Here, darling. Have a lovely Sunday to make up for it.
*hug*
AB