The random witterings of Jonathan Morris, writer.

Sunday, 31 January 2010

Quiet Life

Ooh, I haven’t posted a blog for ages. I am abject and contrite, faithful reader. But I’ve been busy, writing words which people will pay me for, and at the end of the day I find I’ve run out of things to say and my fingers are all tired from typing.

And on top of that, it’s been cold, and apart from work, not a lot to say. Yesterday the Mrs and I visit the British Museum. Having read up a bit on African history, I was wondering what relics they had from the empires of Mali and Ethiopia – two of the most successful empires in the history of the planet – but it turned out all they had a couple of masks. But they had some bronze bits and bobs from the Empire of Benin which were marvellous. And which clearly demonstrate that what I was taught at school – that in Africa everyone was living in the jungle and hitting each other with sticks until the Europeans turned up – was a load of nonsense. They had empires, they had cities, they had bronze bits and bobs while we were all still hitting each other with sticks.

After that we went to a Privet Function. I had a privet function once, it was late, I needed to go desperately urgently, there was a hedge nearby. I think, if anything, the Privet Function demonstrates the limitations of the spellchecker. Though as it was followed by an Appology for the Inconveineance so I’m not sure Mr Clippy was firing on all cylinders.

Telly-wise, currently watching ‘Big Bang Theory’ – excellent episode this week – ‘Pop Star To Opera Star’ – really enjoying it, and getting quite indignant when they sing a song which isn’t proper opera – and ‘How I Met Your Mother’. The episode this week, ‘Drumroll Please’, was one of the most perfectly-written, beautiful episodes of a sitcom I’ve ever seen. Seek it out if you’ve not already seen it. It’s like an American version of ‘Coupling’, but really funny, so completely unlike the American version of ‘Coupling’.

Started going for jogs again. Bloody hell it’s cold out there. Can barely see where I’m going what with my breath condensating all over the place. It’s so cold that when I get home I have to count my nipples to check I haven’t lost one on the way.

Discovered a fantastic new band called Dragonette. They’re like Little Boots but even better. Can’t understand why they’re not more well-known. Oh well, they can be my secret. The words ‘kiss of death’ spring effortlessly to mind.

Oh, finished reading John O’Farrell’s An Utterly Exasperated History Of Modern Britain, which was lots of fun, particularly on what really happened during the 1970s compared to it’s portrayal in TV clip shows. Occasionally John’s relentless search for the ‘gag’ becomes a little wearisome – though there’s a sequence in his The Best A Man Can Get about the correct way to make a cup of tea which made me laugh my head of insanely in Gatwick airport, drawing the attention of passers-by – and I think he’s completely wrong about the Iraq War.

Speaking of which, watched a bit of young Tony Blairs on the telly on Friday. Reading Nick ‘Chairman Of The Young Conservative’ Robinson’s blog on the BBC site you’d think that Tony turned up trembling with fear and stammering in terror and desperately hoping no-one would notice the spreading dampness at the front of his trousers. When actually he came across as confident, self-assured, thoughtful, statesmanlike and absolutely bone-dry in the underwear department. Why aren’t you still Prime Minister, Tony? I’ve stuck some thoughts I wrote last year in a gap in last year’s blog.

So, yes, not a lot going on, and I think this blog’s probably going to be weekly, or very occasional, from now on.

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