it's been a while...

It seems like ages since I last posted anything, but really it has only been a few days. I think this is indicative of my life at the moment. Everything seems to move past in a blur, unless, of course you are talking about my journey to work, which today took nearly two hours: 20 minutes for the first 10 miles and 1½ hours for the second 10 miles! I hate driving. The only thing that has provided me with some comfort is my iPod. I finally managed to find a clear FM radio frequency [96.1] and I was able to listen to my tunes the whole way to work without any interference. I have now removed all of my CDs from my car, having decided that I no longer need them. I am now engaged in the mammoth task of transferring all of my music on to my iPod. I didn't realise that I had so much. No wonder I have no money.

The weekend was lovely. Mrs McMuffin went to visit her niece overnight on Friday. Her niece was celebrating her 13th birthday. So, I had the house all to myself on Friday night, and, as much as I love Mrs McMuffin, it was great. I watched X-Men 2 for the second time and had roast chicken. Both things that Mrs McMuffin would have frowned at. She didn't think much of the film, and I think she is a bit fed up of my chicken obsession. God played a cruel trick on chickens. S/he made them so tasty, and yet gave them such small brains, so they couldn't escape the pan. Just imagine if they had bigger brains...so tasty and clever, they would rule the world...

I then spent all of Saturday cleaning the house and cooking. I think Mrs McMuffin has said something about this before, but the trick to having a clean house is to ensure that you invite people over every couple of weeks. This Saturday we were having Mr and Mrs Beuf-Burger for dinner. Mr Beuf-Burger is a butcher, and a good one at that...So, I decided that we should have fish for dinner. The meal was lovely. I gave them an shallot and tomato tart with goat's cheese and a basalmic and butter syrup. It was lovely. The main course was cod, smoked salmon and pesto wrapped in parma ham, which may seem over the top, but worked really well together. I thought the salmon would help keep the cod from becoming too dry, and it worked.

After pudding, which I have mentioned before, of Amandine, although I have now improved the pudding by adding Amareto to the apricot jam glaze, we had figs stuffed with ginger and orange peel and covered in dark chocolate. I used to buy these, but decided that I was being robbed...I was right. They are so easy to make and, in fact a million times better...

Mr Beuf-Burger did something that I have never seen before. He brought a fantastic boned and rolled joint of lamb as a gift. I am used to people bringing flowers or chocolates, but this was easily the best gift that I have been given. I have never had anyone bring tomorrow's dinner before. By the way, we did eat it the next day, and it was fantastic...I am not sure you can ever have too much lamb...

I had an interesting telephone call from my little brother, he who named us McMuffin, in fact. He was calling to see if it was okay for him to come to us for Christmas dinner. This was strange because I invite him all the time, and he is usually so busy with work, he has a high powered job bossing people around, that he is rarely able to visit us. I am looking forward to him coming. It will be great to see how him with our other friends and Mrs McMuffin's parents on Christmas day.

I don't think I can write anymore. I have to get dinner ready for Mrs McMuffin. We are having some more lamb...

quickie post

Yes, it was a hectic weekend, but jolly good. My niece is very cool, as is my little nephew-but he's still a cuddle monkey, which is nice.

I have thought of lots of interesting things to write, some other time! Must go now as tv beckons me. We're watching another episode of 24 (part deux) on dvd before 'Little Britain'. I shall then sleep if I'm lucky, as have been plagued by insomnia-that means only sleeping 5-6 hours instead of my usual 10. No wonder I am such a delight to be with.

little britain

I don't normally go silly about tv, but I loved 'LittleBritain'. I have been driving everyone mad by going round saying, 'I am the ONLY Gay in the village' all day. If this makes me a sad figure, then so be it. I know what makes me laugh.

I am sitting here typing with the Slink on my lap. He seems to be under the mistaken impression that I can give him access to food, and was waiting on the doorstep for me. Do anti stalking laws apply to cats? Anyway he stops screaming if I pick him up or let him sit on me, so that's what he's doing.

I made reference yesterday to some interesting things I could write, but I have reconsidered this. Surely the point of a blog is to let your friends know about the inconsequential trivia of your life? In any case if I wrote something really good one time, it would raise expectations and I would be forced to try and repeat it. That sounds like a very bad idea. For example if Mr Rock (sexydancingpornoboy) Cake was to write about his kayaking in Nepal then my life would seem even more dull. Anyway, reading something boring by me is a public service-you should feel inspired to be creative or do something interesting.

eating and sleeping

Single cookie is right. All we do is eat and sleep. Even our eating is becomong predictable, have you noticed that Mr McMuffin's last two menus are the same? I have mentioned the weather before (I am so British) and I do beleive that it has a massive effect on our moods and energy. The cold and dark over the winter is great for a few weeks, and then it just drags and grags, and I get more and more depressed.

I really thought I'd hit on something last year by having such light curtains that I got as much light as possible in the mornings to help. It did help a bit, but then comes the time when there is no light before you get to work, and it's pointless. Thank God I don't live any further north, I'd take my own life or go postal.

Driving up North on Friday was awful, I swear the sun set an hour earlier, and I got an extra hour on the way back. The Neice's aunt (Dad's side) felt the same way, we mocked the North mercilessly. I particularly liked her description of it as smelling of coal dust.

We also thought they talked funny, weren't very friendly, and were jealous of us sunny natured southerners. I am reminded of Mr McMuffin's fine observation that hailing from as far north in Scotland as is possible before you turn into a Shetland pony, my northeners are in fact softy southerners to him. No wonder he is so miserable, and finds anything over 24 degrees unbearably hot.

In fact my own sister is a Northener by birth, although we are usually far too tactful to mention it. My other one is an Hampshire Hog, me a Berkshire Bump. Add to this being raised by Welsh parents, who spoke their own unique version of that ancient language and we have a recipe for identity issues! Was I the only person who was upset when England won the rugby and made such a fuss of that boy's foot? Neil Jenkins, now he had a boot..... Even Mr McMuffin confessed that he never supported England, possibly because his family would hang him, but more likely because he hates all forms of sport and was trying not to upset me.

In fact the great Mr McMuffin has been a good husband who has kept his word to me. He got an ipod on condition he fed it and took it for walks, and so he has. That poor little thing is stuffed to the gills with
MP3's (AAC's) and has gone everywhere with him recently. I'm beginning to think he loves it too much.

once again...

I am sitting here at 7am trying to motivate myself to get ready for work. I have already missed my traffic slot, and now my journey will take ages. I have just looked at my work email, and I have answered an odd email from admin who have told me that I and my team have been filling in our timesheets wrong, for over two years! Apparently we have got to record our lunch hour, even though we do not get paid for it. This is why I hate my job. At least I am going out tonight with the team for an early Christmas meal. That should be fun.

Ah well, must get ready...

oh yeah

Guess who's got an extra long weekend? I have. When I finally left work at 8.30 tonight, it was with a sense of achievement, not because I have done so much, but because I won't be back until Tuesday. I am so looking forward to having some time to myself. i might have the space to think about something else to write about, I notice my posts are a bit work/weather/food obsessed. I did get two heartfelt thankyou's today, and a card last week, so at least 3 clients think I'm doing ok. It helps offset the others (mostly other professionals) who think we are scum, and stops me thinking about all the other lives I haven't interferd in enough. Hurrah, it's over now for a few more days.

I do think it's important to mention a few posting etiquette points; no swearing, nastiness or real stupidity. I mention this, not because anyone has done this to me, but because I have been guilty. Some weeks ago I had two glasses of wine and went on a blogging frenzy. I found a really interesting blog with lots of debate on current policy in Iraq. It was clearly written by well meaning and well educated people in the US, and I really wanted to comment. I wrote what I thought was a very interesting piece on the differences between the USA and UK reaction to the war/genocide and linked this to the fundamental differences in our conceptions of what being Liberal costituted.

After posting, I realised that I had gone off at a bit of a tangent. I then wrote a new response to apologise for my stupidity, and then made some unwarranted comments about Blair being misguided, but Bush being a thick wanker. When I read the calm and measured response (and I had even said that I wondered if the USA jingoism that we observed was linked to the workings of a relatively immature democracy) I felt very ashamed. What gave me the right to be so rude to these nice people? It's not their fault that their country's foreign policy (like ours) is fundamentally flawed. They were openly and honestly debating this, and I was just rude. I would never be so crude in person, and they were largely anti-war. I shall never do this again, and in fact I wore a hairshirt for the next week, and self flagellated regularly. Let my penance be a warning to you all, a cautionary tale.

google sp*d*r

I'm so frightened of them I can't even put the word in properly. We have been found by the google arachnid, and namechecked on a couple of blogs. This is very small beer to a lot of committed bloggers, but I have to confess it made me feel a little strange.

It does make me reconsider why we do this. I think we both got a little carried away with the idea that we could. Then, in the original version (now gone forever) it all felt a bit too personal and as if we had exposed too much of ourselves. We did decide to anonymise it further, and that we could look on this a bit like a diary, which neither of us have ever kept. The weirdness is people we don't know seeing this. Not that I think that they are any different to us, I like to check out other blogs, but that's me reading them! I'm in control! Not sure how to feel about this. I know blogging is public, but it felt private! I shall have to think a little bit more about this, obviously.

On a different subject, I am reading "All quiet on the western front" for the first time. I was convinced that I had read this before, even knew it was all about war being hell and changing the young forever, having an experience which those not sharing it never able to understand etc etc. But I had NEVER read it. I'm beginning to worry now about what I actually have read. I read so much I always thought it was more likely that I would forget I had read a book, not remember a book I hadn't read. Anyway, It's good and very short. Not really value for money. Give me Peter F Hamilton's space operas (and I mean that in a good way) and I'll show you value.

I have noticed this disturbing tendency quite a lot as I get older. Theoretically, I understand a little about how memory operates, but it's not nice being your own subject. My Hampshire Hog sister (Treacle Tart as she prefers to be known) and I have both experienced stealing each other's best anecdotes and really thinking that they are our experiences. With such a small age gap between us, we often think we had a twinnish time, but this stuff does give us the creeps.

If I start relaying a fascinating account of my night on the tiles in Kirkwall at some later date, you'll know I've begun stealing from Mr McMuffin and to disbeleive everything I say. (That doesn't look right, please make allowances for my poor spelling, but I really am too lazy to spell check.)

Goodnight everyone, friends and friends I haven't met yet alike.

Mrs McMuffin

PS What's even more strange is that I never call myself Mrs, always Ms, since I was 15. What's more is I really don't mind on this blog.

i had a strange experience today...

I went to see my psychotherapy supervisor today. I am a member of a small supervision group. The group started a couple of months ago, and this was the first time that everyone had attended the group at the same time. One of the people in the group is the spitting image of my friend. They look alike, sound alike, and what was even stranger, they had some of the same mannerisms too. I warmed to him immediately and he to me. I think part of what was going on had something to do with the fact that we are both Scottish. This never ceases to amaze me. Whenever I meet Scottish people we seem to share an immediate understanding about something that seems to be outside of my awareness. I guess you could call it culture. Over the years, and I have now been in England for 22 years, I have become aware that I share a common experience of being Scottish in England. Whenever, I meet other Scottish people our conversation inevitably turns to talking about the English and our experiences of being in England. The most notable thing that we all seem to have in common is the way in which we have had to alter the way we speak to fit in with the English. The Scottish, epecially urban Scottish, speak very fast, whereas the English, especially in the South, speak very slowly, although I am sure they do not realise this. I have lost track of the number of occasions when I first came down here that I have had to repeat myself over and over again to be understood. In fact, on one very memorable occasion, it still sticks in my mind even after 22 years, one very kind man said, "I can't understand a fucking word you're saying", and walked away from me.

The other experience that we have all had at one time or another, is to be accused of being aggressive. Now, I am happy to own the fact that on occasion, like everyone else, I can be aggressive, but this is different...What is being suggested is that we are all aggressive all of the time. Again, I think this has something to do with the differences in the way in which we speak. There is a certain, what can only be described as, bluntness in Scottish speech, which jarres with the English art of subtle understatement. I can only assume that it is this that is often confused with aggression.

It has been a long process for me, but I am slowly coming to the realisation that I am Scottish, and that this means that I am different from the English that surround me. I am very reluctant to mark my difference with flags and other Scottish tourist tat, but this difference is becoming important to me.

he's scottish alright

Mr MrMuffin is Scottish. That's no surprise to anyone that meets him, although in Scotland they tend to assume he's English due to his diluted accent. It is also true that a huge number of assumptions are made about how he behaves, and I include myself in that. I hadn't really known many Scottish people before, or ever visited Scotland, so I just thought he was a little different. Then I thought it was just his family, then I thought it was just the West of Scotland, then I realised it was pretty much all of them.

I mentioned the Welsh stuff before, but sometimes I wonder if that's a part of why we decided to be together. Not because I understand what it is like to be Scottish, but because he isn't English, and I do get that outsider stuff, having seen my parents go through it here. While they were relatively insulated by their race and class (they dragged us up to Middle), they were different, and people made assumptions about them based solely on their Welshness. They never complained, and let's face it they didn't have to cope with racist abuse or attacks, or the more subtle things like clutching your bag tighter when a Black man walks towards you, but they were different.

We're actually very good at doing this in Britain. For such a small bunch of countries we have so many ideas about each other, for example Scousers steal, Yorkshire people are miserable etc. So many of us have this as such a part of our identity that it gets fascinating. I had a friend who was of African Caribbean (Jamaican)/Polish Jewish heritage. Of course she was Black, but a big part of her identity was being Scottish, and more specifically Glaswegian. Funnily enough, she said people thought she was aggressive.

Segue to my day off yesterday, what did I do with that precious time? I got sick and spent the whole day drifting in and out of sleep. Slink thought he was in heaven as I was too weak to throw him out. I woke up to find him curled up next to me with the duvet over him, and his head on the pillow. I think he has problems with his identity. Too many years in close contact with people has convinced him he is some strange human-cat hybrid. he hasn't tried taking a bath yet, but he does like to be invited to dinner parties, and will scream until he is let in and allowed to take a lap. Obviously our chairs are too low for him.

Tomorow we are going to see my littlest bridesmaid and her lovely Mum. We haven't seen them for ages (our fault) and I'm very much looking forward to it. Slinky will no doubt be around, he also likes them, and didn't even flinch when the littlest bridesmaid misheard his name and called him Stinky.

Well I am going to bed now, it is quite late enough. I obviously need my rest as I think I am beginning to look a lot like a bag lady. I arranged a hair appointment today, and the friendly junior was keen to take my booking, but seemed very concerned with how much it was going to cost. She asked me how much I wanted to pay, and seemed very uncomfortable when I told her whatever it took. I wasn't really being reckless, it's a good salon but not pricey. By the time she'd booked me in with the second best stylist and given me a discount it came in at the £30 mark. She asked me again if it was ok. Now, I'm not a flashy dresser, but the long cardigan I was wearing cost £130 (not in the sale it didn't!) and nothing else about me looked wildly different, so I didn't quite get this concern with my wallet. Maybe she was just very nice, I hope so.

me and my ipod...an update

I am still very much loving my iPod. Since the 20 November I have spent every day feeding it new music and it is still not satisfied. I have given it 4518 songs, or 12 days of continuous music, and yet it wants more. Will it never end? I still have a couple of boxes of CDs upstairs, but what then? I have worked out that I will be able to get my entire music collection onto 8 DVDs. I love the future.

The only problem for me is that I have discovered the joys of iTunes, and all of it's organising capabilities. It is an anal dream come true. I will now have to spend the next year cataloguing my collection and ensuring that I have all of the album artwork etc...I think I might have to give up work if I am going to do it properly. I haven't mentioned this idea yet to Mrs McMuffin, but I am sure she will understand why it is necessary.

hairdressers

I've never really trusted them, although they do come number 3 in my list of least favourite activities, no.1 is seeing the dentist and no.2 being a cervical smear. however, I bit the bullet and had my hair cut yesterday by a lovely woman who proceeded to give me the exact cut I had told her that I didn't want but always seemed to end up getting. She also removed a foot of hair in the process from the length and very heavily layered the last 6 inches of my hair.

Why is it that there are only 2 types of hairdressers when you have long hair? The first type treat your hair as a national treasure and grade 3 list it, the second see it as a personal affront and try to remove it. Forget Steve Martin in 'Little Shop of Horrors', to make him truly evil he'd have to have a speculum and a pair of scissors.

Mr McMuffin has come up trumps and booked me in for some expensive repair work with the style director at Toni and Guy. Wonder which of the two camps they'll fall into? If I lose another foot it will almost be as short as his. I am beginning to feel very jealous of a friend with lovely low maintenance locks. She just gets them twisted every few weeks and never has to cut them. I shan't reveal her identity, but she had an early history as a jealous hair cutter, managing to persuade everyone that her cousin had cut her own hair off in the night. We are very good friends, but I secretly feared she would cut my hair off when we shared an appartment in Barcelona, and other long haired friends were also very anxious, even considering wearing bathing hats to bed. I guess I don't have anything to fear any more from her.... (If you're reading this haircutting one, you know I'm only joking, we weren't that frightened really)

mr mcmuffin is a bit non-plussed

I really am a bit non-plussed by all this hair-cutting thing. Two hair cuts in one week, and Mrs McMuffin doesn't seem in the least bit upset by the dogs dinner that has been made of her hair. I think really that she wanted to cut her hair short, and now she has the perfect, responsibility free, excuse to do that..."I had to have it done..." Ah well, at least now I won't find long hair in my pants when I go for a pee, which has got to be some kind of result.

pickled grapes

I made some pickled grapes yesterday. There is still time to do this for Christmas. They only need to sit for a couple of weeks. This is what you need:

500gms of seedless black grapes
500ml of white wine vinegar
500gms of brown sugar
The rind of one lemon
three cloves
two star anises
one vanilla pod
one stick of cinnamon
three juniper berries

And a 1 litre kilner jar, or other sealable jar to store the grapes in.

Wash and pat dry the grapes. Leave them on the stalks, but cut them into small bunches of four or five grapes. Place the grapes in the jar. Put all the other ingredients into a pot and bring to the boil. Boil for a couple of minutes, and then remove the cinnamon stick and vanilla pod. Pour the syrup into the jar, over the grapes, and seal.

The grapes can be eaten the next day, but they will be better if you store them in a cool place for a couple of weeks. They will last unopened for about 6 months, but once you open them you must eat them within four weeks. The perfect accompaniment to cheese.

masculinity...

I had what occured to me afterwards as a strange experience today at work. I was telling one of my male colleagues about my attempts to pickle grapes, and he was so taken with this that he asked for the recipe. I printed him off a copy from this site, and I told him that if he had any trouble getting juniper berries then I could let him have some. Now the strange bit of this whole thing was that I do not believe for one second, and I am having trouble even imaging it, that our fathers ever exchanged recipes at work. Maybe the world really is changing...

I got dragged into a meeting today. I knew about it, but had 'forgotten' to go. About an hour after the meeting had started, just as I was thinking that I had got away with it, the chair came and got me. What could I do but give in gracefully and go along with him. It was another strange experience, this room full of professionals all acting as if they could do nothing without me. They all seemed pathetically grateful for the morsel of information that I was able to give them. It would be too boring for you if I went into what it was all about...After the meeting I was cornered by a oddly intense American woman who wanted to try to put right any 'miscommunication' that may have occured between us. Again I was gracious to her, but really what I was thinking was, "why don't you just do your job..."

Sometimes being nice to people in this job is just too much effort. I think Hugh Grant put it best, "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK..." Mrs McMuffin will be appalled at my outburst, but I am sure that after I expain it all to her, she will forgive me.

look at this

I was browsing some other people's blogs and found a link to this site. It is worth checking out. It features the most amazing photographs of Japanese city skylines.

still experimenting...

I just can't seem to get this site to look the way I want it to. I am still figuring out how to do things with the design. So, occasionally some of the pictures look crap and the links don't work, but I will get there eventually...

mr mcmuffin

le pauvre

Had an interesting experience today with a very nice lady from another part of the divison. My team is moving offices, and because we are so so important, there has to be emergency cover while we do this, the nice lady and another nice man are going to deal with emergencies during the day. We got chatting and it turns out that she went to college with and briefly worked with Mr McMuffin. I mentioned his name and that he was my 'husband' (still trying to use that word without sniggering) and her reply was "oh.....you're so lovely'.

I don't think they hit it off. She hasn't seen him for many years, and I'm sure she'd really like him now, but what do we do when we're not keen on partners of people we like? Being a bit of a Pollyanna, I try to find some redeeming feature, but I have to admit that some relationships have foundered because I just don't like the people they love. I can't help questioning their judgement, and judging them right back. Now that's really lovely.

wheat beer

I just love it.

what a day

Today has been a bit of trial for me and my beloved Mac. I got up this morning, switched on my machine, hoping to look at my emails, do a bit of surfing and the like, and I found that my machine had decided to scrap all of my preferences, my keychain, and god knows what else. I just couldn't get the thing to work properly. I was able to get on line, and on one of the forums found out that OSX has a nasty habit of scraping everything if you fill the hard drive. By coincidence, I received a warning telling me I had no space left last night. It has taken me a year, but finally I have found out how to break OSX. I have spent the day saving what I could, and have now completely reloaded the operating system. Unfortunately, I have not been able to save my bookmarks. I had automatically synced with .mac before I knew what was going on, and all I was left with was an empty file. It also did the same thing with my diary and address book, but I have them saved somewhere else. It has taken me a couple of years to build up those bookmarks and to organise them just how I liked. And to think, I was getting so good at backing things up too...A hard lesson, but one I am taking to heart. I am going to get myself an external hard drive and backing up everything from now on. The .mac automation is excellent, but is no good to me if it can't tell the difference between an empty file and one with data in it. My machine is running lovely now. Still a lot of work to do though. I still have to load on all of my apps again. But, for now, I am going to bed.

christmas is over

I love Christmas but I am always glad when it is over. It has been a hectic couple of weeks, but yesterday we lay around watching tv and now I feel able to leave the house in search of bargains. We had a full house for Christmas dinner. My brother did arrive bringing with him a Christmas cake that must weigh about 10LBs. He had a chef at one of his hotels make it for us. I like fruit cake, but what am I going to do with a thing this size. The dinner was a great success, even the pickled grapes. It all came together very nicely, although at one point I thought I was going to have to give them some crisps to tide them over between course because the meat just wouldn't cook. This sort of thing often happens to me. I have to do much of the preparation before we sit down because my capacity to organise and cook deteriorates with every glass of wine I drink. The only downer came when Mrs McMuffin's father, who hardly touches alcohol managed to get himself drunk enough to fall over in the bathroom and give himself a black eye. He didn't feel too good after this, and left a bit earlier than planned. I could see disaster looming when I gave him a bottle of fine single malt whisky. He decided that he didn't need another glass and poured a very generous shot into his empty wine glass. Mrs McMuffin then helped him on his way by accidently topping up his glass with some wine. He decided the whisky was too good to waste and drank the lot. He is 70 years old so you would have thought he would have learnt that kind of lesson before now. Apart from that, it was a lovely day, good company, nice food and drink, and lots of presents...

I have been neglecting my blog recently, but I am now trying to make up for that. I have spent the morning trying to make it look lovely again, but I have just messed it up some more, and have had to return it to its orginal state. Never fear, I will try again later. I am determined to get this site looking right.

i am done...

I forgot to mention that I have now put all of my music onto my iPod. It took me over a month. I have 7300 songs which is quite a nice little collection. I am now doing the sad computer boy thing of working out how to publish my collection on the internet. I never thought I would ever stoop so low. I could never see the point of putting lists of songs on the internet, but now that I have all my music in digital form and have put away my CDs, I find that I need some way of easily keeping track of the music that I have. It might as well be online as anywhere else, I guess. I have found this fantastic little app called iTunes Catalogue which does the job in a stylish way.

Once I was able to see all of my music together, I was shocked to find that it is all white rock. I have always prided myself on having a fairly catholic taste in music, but I was clearly deluding myself. Oh, sure, I have the odd hip hop album, some classic soul and a bit of classical, but none of this can hide the fact that I am a victim of my upbringing. I really am white rock boy. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it was a bit of a surprise...

me at home, again

I went back to work yesterday after the Christmas break. Didn't want to go, but had to I suppose. The masters in their wisdom had shut down the switchboard, so we received no calls at all during the day. I just pottered around trying to pass the time. I have a few things to do, but just couldn't seem to work up any enthusiasm for any of it. Today I decided to do some work from home, but it has been a funny day so far. Haven't been able to do anything, but mess around on my computer. I am still sitting in my dressing gown, but I think I am going to get dressed and go shopping. Got some cash at Christmas and I want to buy a Bluetooth headset for my phone. It has recently become illegal in the UK to use your mobile phone while driving, in fact it is illegal even to hold your phone while driving. What is the world coming to when governments think they have to intervene to stop stupid people killing themselves and other, perhaps less stupid, people?

It always takes me a while to get back into working after Christmas and I suppose this year will be no different. Ah, well...

the west wing

I have just seen my first episode of The West Wing. For some reason we have never been able to get our act together enough to watch it when it has been on TV. However, we bought the first two series on DVD in the sales after Christmas. It really is fantastic. I would vote for President Bartlett, in fact I am thinking of starting up a campaign to get him elected here in the UK. What a wonderful humane man he is. It got me thinking about George Bush. Is there a side to Mr Bush that we don't see in the UK, a side that is more apparent to those who live in the US? I have been looking at some blogs and it seems there are Americans who love Mr Bush and think he is doing a good job. My first thought when I see these is that they are poor deluded fools, but perhaps I am missing something...Anyway, I can't wait to return to the White House...

Talking of sales...I also got four series, all but the first, of Sex and The City on DVD today. They only cost £15 a series, which was too cheap for me to leave. Can't wait to watch them all again.

My viewing cup runneth over...

wow

Just have a look at this. Someone has gone to a lot of bother to produce this great advert for the NS-5 'the world's first fully automated domestic assistant'. And it is fully three laws safe, for those of us who understand these things.