Meanwhile, a quiet spell at work prompts time-wasting in ever increasing increments. So, aside from the shock news that er, semen makes women happy (if only Seaman had made us happy in that quarter-final, sigh), my top entertainment tip is They Have A Word For It - a great tool for those of us who find the English language woefully inadequate. But enough of this wei-wu-wei. I think I should peer through my Weltschmerz and do something nice for those too trapped in Rame to find love for themselves: travelling on a lot of trains and buses, I am constantly assailed by visions of attractive young ladies of the type sought by most single males of my acquaintance. They are no use to ME - I am not Darren Hayman, nor was meant to be, but if I could only find a way to bring them together with the nice boys of this world... Oh well, it would probably just be another farpotschket, and I wouldn't want to be guilty of Schlimmbesserung, would I?
(Speaking of attractive people, I note that hip hop supergroup Handsome Boy Modelling School are playing at the London Essential Festival - remind you of anyone?)
As for my inner life, yesterday was an inexplicably miserable day, while today was an equally inexplicably cheery one. I suppose it might have something to do with clothing, although a cerebral thing like me is loath to admit it. The evidence: yesterday I hurriedly donned a too-small skirt and was consumed with self-consciousness all afternoon, while today I randomly selected a Padded Bra and some little pink things, and voila! instant happiness. Odd. Reading also has an effect though I suspect: I finished the wonderful Sunbathing In The Rain by Gwyneth Lewis on Sunday night and like a true hypochondriac found myself projecting her symptoms of clinical depression onto myself. Now I am carefully sticking to Joanne Harris (literature AND chocolate, hurrah) and Stephen Fry.
True Love and High Adventure
