It looks like Agnetha Faltskog a.k.a. the blond one from Abba, is making a return to the stage.
I suspect she may have featured in quite a few chaps dreams and fantasies all those years ago, and she has been very much out of the limelight for some time now.
Oh well, I suppose it is not good for someone of my age to get too overenthusiastic about such things. Anyway good luck to her!
The Beeb continues to amuse us with the outpourings of a holy ‘professor of ethics’: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-21658218
Pinch yourself, to ensure you are not dreaming this drivel – which culminates with a cracker: “accountable to a board of directors: God Himself…the Blessed Trinity”. As with most analogies, the Rev’s attempt to explain the RC biz as a huge corporation runs out of rational, if not supernatural road.
The children at school today
were told not to go out to play
With the discomfort index
at a hundred and six
best stay indoors for the day.
Talking about tossers, a mate of mine recently announced that he’s purchased a Hyundai Atos and expects to take delivery on Wednesday. I innocently asked him if he’d bought the GL, SL, GLX, SLE or SER? Only one other person got it 😦
Who would have thought it?
After a glorious victory against the Aussie Force two weeks ago (and a bye last week) our Super Kings hosted the first of the heavyweights last night. The Sharks were last year’s losing finalists, they are a side packed with current Springboks (we have not one) and we kept them tryless!
Our magnificent Nelson Mandela Bay stadium was a sell out, that’s 42,000 people packed in to savour a super rugby derby. Sure it’s been full once or twice before but that was during the FIFA world cup, no passion, no partisanship just an extravaganza (albeit a jolly good one) and of course our two rugby tests against England and the All Blacks, this was different, completely different!
If our first victory in the competition hasn’t made the opposition sit up and reconsider our ‘whipping boy’ tag then last night must have, our Kings were simply magnificent.
One report tells us “only 1 tackle missed out of 107” They defended like lions (not the Transvaal kind but the four legged ones with manes!) and on attack? Opportunities though few and far between were taken, so much so that with only 2 minutes to go we were in a bonus point winning position but fate dealt a cruel blow, we were robbed of that bonus point in the last minute of the game.
Answer your email!
Wool has arrived for wolfie second skin and I need a couple of answers before I start!
I’m back from another place and have queued a lot in the process of going and coming. Departure tax payment, airport check in, bag drop, passport examination, security check, flight boarding to name just those involving departure and with two changes (one involving a US border entry) and a final wait for my checked bags. I lost the will to count them all.
They have taken all the fun out of queueing. In the old days one would arrive at the queues, (and there were always as many queues as there were servers), and with a practiced eye one could quickly evaluate the options, length of queue, number of families in each line, number of bags per person in line, gender and age of those in line, estimated nationality of those in line and finally, and most importantly, the gender and estimated national origin of the servers. The fastest service could be almost guaranteed by choosing that queue of bored, sober-suited, middle-aged, white gents with small carry-on bags waiting, with paperwork in hand, for the highly efficient oriental lady server with the indestructible work ethic. You could be through and out in seconds, step forward, slap down your docs., two questions, “Did you pack…?” “Did anyone give…?” Machine spits out boarding card and you’re gone. She would be pushing them through about two per minute, easy.
Hackney Planning Watch, which opposes the Stamford Hill Neighbourhood Forum, has posted a flyer warning “Act now! Your neighbourhood is in danger!”
In a London borough there are tensions between the indigenous residents and a group whose religious and cultural values clash. The birthrate for this group is high. It is estimated the average family has eight children and these children are predominantly educated at faith schools. They need more accommodation and more schools, as the population is estimated to double over the next twenty years. The men, many are bearded, often wear very distinctive, traditional clothing and their women dress modestly and cover their hair in public.
Does this all sound familiar?
“Where’s the Fantasticks for March?” I’ve been away but here it is, it’s all right.
Fantasticks is the weird collection of gnomic observation by Nicholas Breton (1554-1626). They are not in print.
Anyway, in March, Breton seems more dream-laden and careless than ever.
MARCH
It is now March, and the Northerne wind dryeth up the Southerne durt: The tender Lippes are now maskt for feare of chapping, and the faire hands must not be ungloved: now riseth the Sunne a pretty step to his faire height, and Saint Valentine calls the birds together, where Nature is pleased in the varietie of love: the Fishes and the Frogs fall to their manner of generation, and the Adder dyes to bring forth her young: the Ayre is is sharpe, but the Sunne is comfortable, and the hay beginnes to lengthen: The forward Gardens give the fine Sallets, and a Nosegay of Violets is a present for a Lady: Now beginneth Nature (as it were) to wake out of her sleepe, and sends the Traveller to survey the walkes of the World: the sucking Rabbit is good for weake stomackes, and the dyet for the Rhume doth many a great Cure: The Farrier now is the horses Physitian, and the fat Dog feeds the Faulcon in the Mew: the Tree begins to bud, and the grasse to peepe abroad, while the Thrush with the Black-bird make a charme in the young Springs: the Milke-mayd with her best beloved, walke away wearinesse to the Market, and in an honest meaning, kind words doe no hurt: the Foot-ball now tryeth the legges of strength, and merry matches continue good fellowship: It is time of much worke, and tedious to discourse of: but in all I find of it, I thus conclude in it: I hold it the Servant of Nature, and the Schole-master of Art: the hope of labour, and the Subject of Reason.
Farewell.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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