Did I Ever Tell You About the Time?

Could this be the very public vessel of conveyance what didst take away my Literature?
No.



I was just reading a post I liked over at Le Café du Jour, and Nova's story of not getting to finish a book really stuck with me. I wanted to post what I'm about to say as a comment on said page, but it's a bit mansplainy to go and turn the focus around to myself in someone else's forum. So you, unfortunate reader, must suffer it now (unless you stop reading at this very point):

A few years back, maybe three or four, when I was at the height of my 'utilitarianism' phase, I was in the habit of buying pocket-sized books of either poetry or short stories, so that I could have something about me to read at all times. I found the 'dead time' you get on public transport to be the best time to crack one of these wee treasures out.

I was reading one such book - Stefan Zweig's Chess - on the 2A from Heysham into Lancaster. I was at the point in the story where a mysterious character has been tempted to show himself to a group of travellers, only for them find themselves in a pickle. Salvation hinted at its arrival when I reached my real-life destination, and so had to quit the bus and the story.

Later on, I was talking to someone about what I'd been reading, and went to my pocket to show them it as proof. Nice-looking proof, too, since this particular Penguin series that I'd pppicked up is a classy slate-grey background with black and white text upon it.

It wasn't in my pocket, though. I'd left it on the bus.

I can't ever remember calling up the station to see if it had been handed in, but if I did, it wasn't there.

It took me years to re-buy the book. No particular reason, I don't suppose, apart from the usual pressures of not-quite-enough disposable income to go on rectifying all of life's stupid errors. Then it took me a little longer to get round to reading it.

The point where I'd left off was pretty much where things started kicking off. Not so much in terms of overall plot progression per se, but certainly in learning about the characters, and having the relative cosiness of the situation suddenly shaken up by revelations. It's a wonderful story, and I'm so glad I got round to finishing it.

That is all.

Buona Notte

Hullo there. Just got out the shower. The shower was good. Bit hot though. Bit of a problem coz it means you sweat a little bit after you've got out, meaning that you are instantly losing your freshness the moment the water stops dribbling all over ya.

Saw part of Transformers 2 today with special commentary. I can't remember if I've already blogged about this, but you can download an amusing commentary from somewhere on the internet which you play over the film. The guys make sarcastic comments and stuff in real time so it can be pretty funny. Oh and Megan Fox is hot Francy, no doubt in my mind. Yes there are hotter people, but she has enough 'alluring qualities.' Hmm, think I have written about this...

Badminton was okay. A couple of new girls came tonight that haven't played before, so the challenge pour moi was to limit my play in order to give them a chance. Played against my game partner in singles and we didn't have enough time for a decider (we'd both won one game). He trashed me at pool in the bar though, both games skillfully executed in contrast to my extremely annoying performance where I kept being as close to potting balls as I possibly could without actually sinking the buggers... Dolly Peg's career in this field has been suffering a bit of late too, check out her blog from my 'Blogs I follow' section somewhere on this virtual slab of fun.

Sooo; last night Liverpool comfortably dominated Portsmouth 4-1. A fantastic sight to see us play normally and well. First and last Liverpool goals netted by Torres, second by Babel and the third one was Alberto Aquilani scoring his first for Liverpool, so well done to him. Belhadj scored the final goal of the game for Portsmouth, a nice little consolation goal that didn't spoil the mood for me. Our skipper had a bit of a to-do with Michael Brown. The Pompey player ran into Gerrard's forearm in a clumsy fashion and hurt himself a bit. Gerrard's arm was only in the way due to a sudden gust of wind. Only joking; it was a nasty and ill-calculated incident, but thankfully he wasn't punished because the FA says you can't punish a player retrospectively when the referee has already meted out 'punishment' (a free kick in this instance). Brown didn't exactly look hurt anyway, so though it was a stupid thing to do, there was no damage done really.

I'll round off with a negative. Despite the chance that this may be read by the friend I'm about to complain about, I don't care. He knows that he's been really disrespectful to me so he's brought it on himself. Not gonna name names, but I've got a mate who likes some weird banter. I very rarely give anyone any stick, even in jest, because it's not a clever thing to do. This guy, however, keeps coming out with odd insinuations and nasty comments. After he has any drink at all, like last night, he gets much worse. He just wouldn't shut up despite the fact that I obviously wasn't amused. Don't wanna go into what he said, but there was another friend in the room at the time, and now everything's awkward because his idiotic behaviour has shifted the mood of our group.

Maybe I won't finish on a low. The hols are coming up soon, so is my birthday, so is my fedora hat and, as soon as tomorrow comes, it'll be Saint Patrick's Day! Hoorah!