Today I turned 27 - nothing spectacular as ages go. It was a very, very lovely birthday though. I had a fair few cards to open. Mog had already gifted me with a beautiful baby blue leather toiletries bag from Crabtree & Evelyn the night before. I got a handful of congratulatory text messages and my Grandad called to tell me he was coming over to Edinburgh to take me out for lunch.
I set off for work - looking mighty fine for a 27 year old (if I may say so myself). I stopped in at Tenkos to get some croissants and muffins for my team-mates. When I arrived, there was a card waiting for me - Little Miss Sunshine no less!
My Grandad had offered to take me to lunch at The Dome, but I find it overpriced for lunch and thought he'd really prefer my suggestion anyway. He did and so we headed to Monster Mash on Thistle Street. He stopped outside to read the menu and was loving those prices! He said he fancied the steak pie and I warned him that it was HUGE. "Ah, but this is my main meal of the day," he protested. Whatever, it was his call. The steak pie arrived. "Bloody hell, will you look at the size o' that? I'll never manage all that!" But he did. Unfortunately, he didn't have any room for the pudding he'd been eyeing up.
I headed back to work and did nothing for an hour and a half, then headed home at 4pm. I set about getting myself ready for my girls' night. Sinead pitched up with some beautiful flowers and a train station-rage story about a very rude man who had knocked her over and felt her wrath.
Leanne arrived at the door after spending some time in next door's stairwell. We all enjoyed a few glasses of syder brut - a very delicious and elegant cider. I was thrilled to open Leanne's present and find 'The Crimson Petal and the White' which I am dying to start reading. The Elizabeth Arden eight-hour cream will also come in very handy fighting the signs of aging I'm sure.
We took a cab to Gurkha Brigade because it was pouring down. Mog arrived seconds later. Katie had called to say she would be late. 40 minutes later she burst through the door looking every inch the drowned rat. It was the most dramatic entrance ever and met with laughter from us and most of the restaurant. A quick spruce up in the ladies room and she was back to her gorgeous self. We proceeded to have a rioutous night which mostly involved my friends taking the piss at my expense. Sinead told us about Betty the guide dog and her unfortunate accident in one of Fife Council's meeting rooms.
We headed on to City where Sinead had wangled us onto the guest list under an assumed name. It was all very exciting. It was plenty busy and Boogie & Dingo from Forth One were on the decks. We were all enjoying a boogie of our own when it occured to us that everyone else seemed really young. A guy danced his way over and started giving me some chat. He looked young - really young. I asked him how old he was. 17 apparently!!! I told him I was old enough to be his mother. "That's stretching it a bit," Mog said. "Not if it were a Daily Record headline," I replied.
After about an hour and a half, (45 minutes of which was spent trying to get into the locked room with the seats), we all admitted to feeling a bit too old and headed back to mine for a cup of tea.
We put Katie in the Mastermind chair and 'cubed' her. The results were interesting.
All in all, it turned out to be quite a spectacular birthday. 27 feels right.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Sunday, October 15, 2006
ok so, Hong Kong was good (Part 2)
I slid my fankled feet into a pair of flip flops and covered this monstrosity with a very long dress. What the hay! We dined at 'Dong' before heading down to the Peninsula Hotel to partake of a few champagne cocktails in the Felix bar. The place was uber-cool with amazing views across the harbour to Hong Kong Island.
On day 2, I tried my hand at haggling (though enjoyed more success when I communicated verbally). I went into a shop just off Nathan Road to get a memory stick for my camera. The over-zealous sales assistant told me I had "lovely temples". "Excuse me?" came my rather shocked response. "Your temples," he tried again, "are lovely. Beautiful temples. Very big." I was about to get up and leave when it dawned on me that he meant 'dimples'. "Aahh dimples!" I smiled back, "yes, thank you."
The dimples got me in trouble later that day when I made my perpetual mistake of smiling and saying hello to the wrong person, who then followed us around for about an hour and sat two rows behind us on the Star Ferry back to Kowloon.
High tea at the Peninsula Hotel was a wonderful treat. It was very old school with the waiting staff in colonial style uniforms. We partook of a lovely pot of Afternoon Tea and several fancies. My feet thanked me privately for the rest.
Day 3 was full-on and whatever love-fest my feet and I engaged in the previous day was gone. We visited the Bank of China tower, caught the tram up to the Peak, took a sangpang ride at Aberdeen Harbour. It was all very authentic and traditional, apart from the fact that the fisherman spent the majority of the time on his mobile phone. We caught the bus to the ferry terminal, took a tram to a temple, trampled along the world's longest sky-walk and stopped in at the museum of tea; where I learned about the ancient art of tea-making and Steve Irwin's unfortunate death (I was going to use the word 'untimely' but then I remembered the things this man used to do with crocodiles and snakes - strewth!). After some very authentic cusine (crispy fried duck - skin only? I'll pass on that thanks.) I actually hobbled back to the hotel. My feet had become so swollen that my sandals had cut into the skin leaving a sore, and very red, welt that ran half way around my foot. I looked like I'd escpaed from a chain gang. To make matters worse, the extreme humidity had resulted in not only a shocker of a demi-wave, but some thigh-chafing - aow, aow, aow.
Next up:
We play ping pong in Bangkok
& Break the bank at Vertigo.
On day 2, I tried my hand at haggling (though enjoyed more success when I communicated verbally). I went into a shop just off Nathan Road to get a memory stick for my camera. The over-zealous sales assistant told me I had "lovely temples". "Excuse me?" came my rather shocked response. "Your temples," he tried again, "are lovely. Beautiful temples. Very big." I was about to get up and leave when it dawned on me that he meant 'dimples'. "Aahh dimples!" I smiled back, "yes, thank you."
The dimples got me in trouble later that day when I made my perpetual mistake of smiling and saying hello to the wrong person, who then followed us around for about an hour and sat two rows behind us on the Star Ferry back to Kowloon.
High tea at the Peninsula Hotel was a wonderful treat. It was very old school with the waiting staff in colonial style uniforms. We partook of a lovely pot of Afternoon Tea and several fancies. My feet thanked me privately for the rest.
Day 3 was full-on and whatever love-fest my feet and I engaged in the previous day was gone. We visited the Bank of China tower, caught the tram up to the Peak, took a sangpang ride at Aberdeen Harbour. It was all very authentic and traditional, apart from the fact that the fisherman spent the majority of the time on his mobile phone. We caught the bus to the ferry terminal, took a tram to a temple, trampled along the world's longest sky-walk and stopped in at the museum of tea; where I learned about the ancient art of tea-making and Steve Irwin's unfortunate death (I was going to use the word 'untimely' but then I remembered the things this man used to do with crocodiles and snakes - strewth!). After some very authentic cusine (crispy fried duck - skin only? I'll pass on that thanks.) I actually hobbled back to the hotel. My feet had become so swollen that my sandals had cut into the skin leaving a sore, and very red, welt that ran half way around my foot. I looked like I'd escpaed from a chain gang. To make matters worse, the extreme humidity had resulted in not only a shocker of a demi-wave, but some thigh-chafing - aow, aow, aow.
Next up:
We play ping pong in Bangkok
& Break the bank at Vertigo.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Jen & Gary update
I had dinner with Leanne last night at Muang Thai on Hanover Street. After my holiday stories and Leanne's great news around her job (and, of course, a totally cool update on all the new things baby Ella can do since I saw her last), Leanne confessed that she'd recently checked Jen & Gary's blog.
You may remember Jen & Gary as the couple I slated in one of my previous entries. At the time, Leanne and I had a good old bitch about Jen and how pathetic she was. That was before Leanne read their blog in its entirety and informed me that they were struggling to conceive and Jen really wanted fertility treatment but Gary said she had to get a job first.
We went from feeling sorry for Gary having to put up with her, to agreeing that he probably got some sick pleasure from encouraging this in her. Poor Jen!
Anyway, last night I found out (from Leanne) that they are going for the fertility treatment. "How lovely!" I said. "I hope he never leaves her."
"So do I," Leanne agreed, "but I suspect he probably will." I nodded in quiet agreement.
"But," said Leanne, "by that time she may have her baby and the dogs she loves, and be perfectly content without Gary"
"I think that might be the Nirvana an increasing number of women are searching for," I said having read an article on this a while ago. "Kinda like 'I love you, thank you, goodbye'."
Getting back to the subject of lovely togetherness, congratulations to Careth & Mark who got engaged a few weeks ago. Luckily, Mark got a very good review in my blog. I will encourage them to start up a 'Careth & Mark' blog where they can update their readers, much in the same way as Jen & Gary do, on home improvements, weeding the garden, lime-squeezing and other lovey-dovey stuff. Oooh, oooh, oooh, maybe they'd be up for a transatlantic 'wife-swap' for a TV special. Yes, I think it just might work.
You may remember Jen & Gary as the couple I slated in one of my previous entries. At the time, Leanne and I had a good old bitch about Jen and how pathetic she was. That was before Leanne read their blog in its entirety and informed me that they were struggling to conceive and Jen really wanted fertility treatment but Gary said she had to get a job first.
We went from feeling sorry for Gary having to put up with her, to agreeing that he probably got some sick pleasure from encouraging this in her. Poor Jen!
Anyway, last night I found out (from Leanne) that they are going for the fertility treatment. "How lovely!" I said. "I hope he never leaves her."
"So do I," Leanne agreed, "but I suspect he probably will." I nodded in quiet agreement.
"But," said Leanne, "by that time she may have her baby and the dogs she loves, and be perfectly content without Gary"
"I think that might be the Nirvana an increasing number of women are searching for," I said having read an article on this a while ago. "Kinda like 'I love you, thank you, goodbye'."
Getting back to the subject of lovely togetherness, congratulations to Careth & Mark who got engaged a few weeks ago. Luckily, Mark got a very good review in my blog. I will encourage them to start up a 'Careth & Mark' blog where they can update their readers, much in the same way as Jen & Gary do, on home improvements, weeding the garden, lime-squeezing and other lovey-dovey stuff. Oooh, oooh, oooh, maybe they'd be up for a transatlantic 'wife-swap' for a TV special. Yes, I think it just might work.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
ok so, Hong Kong was good
Part 1
On Friday 1st September, I got up at the frightful time of 05:45. My flight wasn't until 1pm, but I had some copywriting to do for a dearly valued client. I finished it, emailed it and shutdown the laptop just in time to dance around to Scissor Sisters on Radio Two.
Now, last year I went to Mexico with 14 pairs of shoes, 8 books (2 hardbacks) and a clothes mountain the European Union could have used to dress the entire population of Bosnia (though they do seem to prefer those 80's numbers. I remember seeing some Bosnian refugees on a news item one night and mistook it as confirmation that the cast of FAME were reuniting). My case weighed in at 32kg. It was not something I wanted to repeat this year. So, I packed only 3 pairs of shoes, 1 book, and a small selection of clothes that I conceded would render me neither well nor properly dressed. My case weighed in at 26kg. How disappointing! So much sacrifice and still classified as 'heavy'. It seems packing has more in common with dieting than I'd previously realised (or, indeed, ever thought about).
At the airport my case was labelled orange and 'heavy', and we were on our way. After a short wait in London, we were Hong Kong bound. I looked down at my boarding pass where it had the words 'world traveller' after my name. How very appropriate; it sent me into a state of acute giddiness. Of course, 'world traveller' is British Airways' way of saying 'plebian, economy, schemie, steerage girl', but it is definitely a nicer way of saying it and I felt good about myself as I adjusted my slightly longer-than-average femora into my incredibly cramped seat.
Five hours into the flight my ankles felt funny. Kinda, well, ... tight. I got up to do some exercises at the back of the plane where I discovered that my ankles had in fact swelled to three times their normal size. They were sore and movement was limited, and I felt like a candidate on 'Diet Doctors'.
I fell asleep on the way from the airport to the hotel (most probably avec ma bouche ouvrez-vous) and was reliably informed that we'd crossed the longest road and rail carrying suspension bridge in the world (Tsing Ma Bridge). Upon arrival at the Hotel on Kowloon, I whipped off my clothes, put my PJ's on and snuggled into bed. Waking up some four hours later, I was stunned by the size of my ankles. I swear to God, with a pair of American Tan tights and some brogues I would have passed as an 80 year old. My comments met with agreeable laughter.
In Part Two
How will our heroine cope with fankles?
Why are the Hong Kongers so fascinated with her 'temples'?
and will she get a decent cup of tea?
Stay tuned!
On Friday 1st September, I got up at the frightful time of 05:45. My flight wasn't until 1pm, but I had some copywriting to do for a dearly valued client. I finished it, emailed it and shutdown the laptop just in time to dance around to Scissor Sisters on Radio Two.
Now, last year I went to Mexico with 14 pairs of shoes, 8 books (2 hardbacks) and a clothes mountain the European Union could have used to dress the entire population of Bosnia (though they do seem to prefer those 80's numbers. I remember seeing some Bosnian refugees on a news item one night and mistook it as confirmation that the cast of FAME were reuniting). My case weighed in at 32kg. It was not something I wanted to repeat this year. So, I packed only 3 pairs of shoes, 1 book, and a small selection of clothes that I conceded would render me neither well nor properly dressed. My case weighed in at 26kg. How disappointing! So much sacrifice and still classified as 'heavy'. It seems packing has more in common with dieting than I'd previously realised (or, indeed, ever thought about).
At the airport my case was labelled orange and 'heavy', and we were on our way. After a short wait in London, we were Hong Kong bound. I looked down at my boarding pass where it had the words 'world traveller' after my name. How very appropriate; it sent me into a state of acute giddiness. Of course, 'world traveller' is British Airways' way of saying 'plebian, economy, schemie, steerage girl', but it is definitely a nicer way of saying it and I felt good about myself as I adjusted my slightly longer-than-average femora into my incredibly cramped seat.
Five hours into the flight my ankles felt funny. Kinda, well, ... tight. I got up to do some exercises at the back of the plane where I discovered that my ankles had in fact swelled to three times their normal size. They were sore and movement was limited, and I felt like a candidate on 'Diet Doctors'.
I fell asleep on the way from the airport to the hotel (most probably avec ma bouche ouvrez-vous) and was reliably informed that we'd crossed the longest road and rail carrying suspension bridge in the world (Tsing Ma Bridge). Upon arrival at the Hotel on Kowloon, I whipped off my clothes, put my PJ's on and snuggled into bed. Waking up some four hours later, I was stunned by the size of my ankles. I swear to God, with a pair of American Tan tights and some brogues I would have passed as an 80 year old. My comments met with agreeable laughter.
In Part Two
Stay tuned!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
"Bollocks" ...
... is what I said when I got off the phone from Emergency 5. Apparently, my laptop has "motherboard trouble". Even I knew this was bad news. The advice is to get a new laptop. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.
Monday, September 25, 2006
The World Traveller returneth
Hello. I am in a state of lovely, yummy bliss. I got back to Edinburgh last week and have been walking on a cloud ever since. Hmmmm, niceness.
Unfortunately, my laptop has decided that it doesn't like me quite so chilled-out and has wantonly caught some nasty computer virus, now informing me that it plans to remain shut-down for the purpose of self-protection. Surely, as the owner of said laptop, it's for me to decide whether or not it should be protected? Have I done such an awful job taking care of it, that it has had to take matters into its own cursors? Anyway, as a result, I'm writing this from work. Naughty.
Last week was mostly spent working and sleeping. As a rule, I'm never in bed before midnight, but since returning from holiday I've enjoyed some marathon slumber sessions. On Monday, I retired at 3pm and slept until 6am on Tuesday. On Thursday, I was snuggled up by 8:30pm and on Friday by 9pm. Now, this is good in the sense that I resolved to get more sleep as part of my spa journey - rethink my life sessions, but bad in the sense that I'm not 90. I think there's room for a bit of balance here.
I also vowed to obliterate the following things from my life: CSI (in all its ghastly forms); Air Crash Investigation/Seconds from Disaster (No, the fact that it's on National Geographic does not mean it is a positive force in your life); Columbo (What is wrong with you? You've seen them all twice anyway) and Deal or No Deal (No Deal Noel - unless it's one of the episodes with the rumored jackpot winners).
This should - in theory - leave me with plenty of time in which to update my blog and work on the book. Annoyingly, the laptop isn't playing ball, but I'll still be sure to detail all the best bits from my trip (yes, even the really embarrassing stuff - cringe, cringe).
Unfortunately, my laptop has decided that it doesn't like me quite so chilled-out and has wantonly caught some nasty computer virus, now informing me that it plans to remain shut-down for the purpose of self-protection. Surely, as the owner of said laptop, it's for me to decide whether or not it should be protected? Have I done such an awful job taking care of it, that it has had to take matters into its own cursors? Anyway, as a result, I'm writing this from work. Naughty.
Last week was mostly spent working and sleeping. As a rule, I'm never in bed before midnight, but since returning from holiday I've enjoyed some marathon slumber sessions. On Monday, I retired at 3pm and slept until 6am on Tuesday. On Thursday, I was snuggled up by 8:30pm and on Friday by 9pm. Now, this is good in the sense that I resolved to get more sleep as part of my spa journey - rethink my life sessions, but bad in the sense that I'm not 90. I think there's room for a bit of balance here.
I also vowed to obliterate the following things from my life: CSI (in all its ghastly forms); Air Crash Investigation/Seconds from Disaster (No, the fact that it's on National Geographic does not mean it is a positive force in your life); Columbo (What is wrong with you? You've seen them all twice anyway) and Deal or No Deal (No Deal Noel - unless it's one of the episodes with the rumored jackpot winners).
This should - in theory - leave me with plenty of time in which to update my blog and work on the book. Annoyingly, the laptop isn't playing ball, but I'll still be sure to detail all the best bits from my trip (yes, even the really embarrassing stuff - cringe, cringe).
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Not so Keane on Jesus
Okay, so no Keane. They have decided to cancel their concert in Princes Street Gardens on account of exhaustion. Big bunch of girls. I prefer Snow Patrol anyway - so there!
This week has been busy but not necessarily with anything particularly exciting. For that reason I should probably stop this entry right here. But I won't because, well, it's never stopped me in the past and I'm here now - writing stuff.
Work has been good. Very busy, which keeps my mind off fun things and my eyes off the clock. I've designed a suite of posters to promote the marketing department internally. I wanted to get across the idea that the department now had the staff and the time to do some proper marketing. That we are 'open for business again', so to speak.
The first poster I came up with said 'Back again' with a nice smiley picture of Jesus. I loved it and think Jesus is an underused marketing tool in the financial services sector. However, I opted for self-censorship and relegated 'Jesu' to my drawer. He has now been replaced by Dirty Den in one poster and Bobby from Dallas in another. Quality.
I was asked to come up with some creative ideas for a short movie file promoting pensions. I'm actually quite excited about this, which is now depressing me. How bad must it be when I'm excited by pensions? I think I'll go slash my wrists with my Coldplay CD. (Repeat to self: my job pays the bills!)
Leanne and I had dinner at David Bann on Tuesday night. It was so good we didn't bother going to see a Festival show as planned. Instead, we ordered the Amaretto Marscarpone cheesecake and took our time over it. It was an excellent night made more so by the realisation that food, wine and chat with a good friend is preferable to a professional comedian.
On Thursday evening, I endured my first hockey training session. Two hours, three minor injuries and a static wheeze later I hobbled home. Truly knackered, I immediately drew a hot bubble bath and indulged my desperate muscles. Hopefully, the addition of fitness training on Tuesdays will mean the sessions get easier. I live in hope.
I treated myself to an afternoon showing of 'Easy Living' at the Filmhouse during my lunch hour on Friday. I expected it to be quite empty, but Cinema 1 was rammed. It was top-quality screwball and I loved every minute of it. When the boy and the girl get together at the end, his long disapproving father gives him a job. He tells the girl she has a job too - "cooking my breakfast." What a proposal! I returned to work in a delightful mood for the rest of the day.
The office summer BBQ on Friday night was really quite pish. It was pouring with rain, there was a poor turnout, I was about the only one dancing and I left my umbrella in the club at the end of the night.
Saturday was much better. Another great film at the Filmhouse (The Laughing Policeman) and dinner with Sinead afterwards. I was ravenous and longing for a steak, so we eventually ended up at the Smokestack in Leith. My medium-rare fillet steak and chips went down an absolute treat. We chatted deeply for hours until we realised that Sinead might miss the last train. A taxi to Waverely meant she was just in time for her rowdy journey home.
Today I depressed myself by reading all about the Horn of Africa. (How much for that Russian AK-47? Why sir, that'll set you back three cows. And the US M-16? Oh, that'll be five cows. Well I'll take that then since there's no vegetaion to feed my cows and an M-16 will do a better job of shifting the 6,000 desperate souls who are sleeping on my football field-sized plot of land. Maybe it'll convince them to head for the port and try to secure passage to the Yemen in a death-trap steel container on a rickety ship that's likely to sink with the loss of all life before the appearance of the Yemeni officials forces the smugglers to toss their human cargo into the carnivore-infested waters or maybe they'll join me in a war with the Ethiopians across the desert. That Bin Laden guy sure speaks a lot of sense.) It's a mire of such complete desolate hopelessness that I don't think there's even the hint of a solution. Governments aren't talking about it - not so much because they don't care (which they don't), but more so because their shocking impotence would be laid bare for all to see. The Middle East is child's play compared to this.
But that's too depressing a note on which to end this entry. Sinead said to me last night: "When something doesn't go to plan, people have a tendency to set themselves in a pessimistic frame of mind. They think things can only ever be worse, but a lot of the time things turn out better than they could have imagined." From the long list of personal success stories I've been acquiring, I know that's true. She was talking in the context of a personal issue rather than a global one, but it would be pretty damn skippy if the world got a break too.
This week has been busy but not necessarily with anything particularly exciting. For that reason I should probably stop this entry right here. But I won't because, well, it's never stopped me in the past and I'm here now - writing stuff.
Work has been good. Very busy, which keeps my mind off fun things and my eyes off the clock. I've designed a suite of posters to promote the marketing department internally. I wanted to get across the idea that the department now had the staff and the time to do some proper marketing. That we are 'open for business again', so to speak.
The first poster I came up with said 'Back again' with a nice smiley picture of Jesus. I loved it and think Jesus is an underused marketing tool in the financial services sector. However, I opted for self-censorship and relegated 'Jesu' to my drawer. He has now been replaced by Dirty Den in one poster and Bobby from Dallas in another. Quality.
I was asked to come up with some creative ideas for a short movie file promoting pensions. I'm actually quite excited about this, which is now depressing me. How bad must it be when I'm excited by pensions? I think I'll go slash my wrists with my Coldplay CD. (Repeat to self: my job pays the bills!)
Leanne and I had dinner at David Bann on Tuesday night. It was so good we didn't bother going to see a Festival show as planned. Instead, we ordered the Amaretto Marscarpone cheesecake and took our time over it. It was an excellent night made more so by the realisation that food, wine and chat with a good friend is preferable to a professional comedian.
On Thursday evening, I endured my first hockey training session. Two hours, three minor injuries and a static wheeze later I hobbled home. Truly knackered, I immediately drew a hot bubble bath and indulged my desperate muscles. Hopefully, the addition of fitness training on Tuesdays will mean the sessions get easier. I live in hope.
I treated myself to an afternoon showing of 'Easy Living' at the Filmhouse during my lunch hour on Friday. I expected it to be quite empty, but Cinema 1 was rammed. It was top-quality screwball and I loved every minute of it. When the boy and the girl get together at the end, his long disapproving father gives him a job. He tells the girl she has a job too - "cooking my breakfast." What a proposal! I returned to work in a delightful mood for the rest of the day.
The office summer BBQ on Friday night was really quite pish. It was pouring with rain, there was a poor turnout, I was about the only one dancing and I left my umbrella in the club at the end of the night.
Saturday was much better. Another great film at the Filmhouse (The Laughing Policeman) and dinner with Sinead afterwards. I was ravenous and longing for a steak, so we eventually ended up at the Smokestack in Leith. My medium-rare fillet steak and chips went down an absolute treat. We chatted deeply for hours until we realised that Sinead might miss the last train. A taxi to Waverely meant she was just in time for her rowdy journey home.
Today I depressed myself by reading all about the Horn of Africa. (How much for that Russian AK-47? Why sir, that'll set you back three cows. And the US M-16? Oh, that'll be five cows. Well I'll take that then since there's no vegetaion to feed my cows and an M-16 will do a better job of shifting the 6,000 desperate souls who are sleeping on my football field-sized plot of land. Maybe it'll convince them to head for the port and try to secure passage to the Yemen in a death-trap steel container on a rickety ship that's likely to sink with the loss of all life before the appearance of the Yemeni officials forces the smugglers to toss their human cargo into the carnivore-infested waters or maybe they'll join me in a war with the Ethiopians across the desert. That Bin Laden guy sure speaks a lot of sense.) It's a mire of such complete desolate hopelessness that I don't think there's even the hint of a solution. Governments aren't talking about it - not so much because they don't care (which they don't), but more so because their shocking impotence would be laid bare for all to see. The Middle East is child's play compared to this.
But that's too depressing a note on which to end this entry. Sinead said to me last night: "When something doesn't go to plan, people have a tendency to set themselves in a pessimistic frame of mind. They think things can only ever be worse, but a lot of the time things turn out better than they could have imagined." From the long list of personal success stories I've been acquiring, I know that's true. She was talking in the context of a personal issue rather than a global one, but it would be pretty damn skippy if the world got a break too.
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