You'll be pleased to know I cleaned the keyboard.
I watched a documentary last night about the terrorist attack on a shopping mall in Kenya. It was horrible, really harrowing stuff. Watching terrible events unfold in real time on news and CCT cameras was pretty challenging. But, what struck me most - was the interviews. The Kenyan nationals were all probably speaking English as a second language - but everything they said was nuanced, articulate and sensitive - much more so than anyone I know speaks - and also, it made me uncomfortable that none of them knew each others names - an attractive, white, middle class American woman kept referring to 'the Kenyan lady who saved my son' or 'the Asian lady who carried my daughter'. I couldn't understand that they hadn't made any attempt to engage with the people they had been thrown together with in such remarkable circumstances. The 'Kenyan' lady had saved the American family by hiding them under her table - despite a bullet wound that had gone in through her left leg and out of her right hip. When she talked on camera she came across as a really warm, intelligent and lovely woman, I would have wanted to know her.
The Tory MP who defected to UKIP about 20 mins ago is called Mark Reckless. I find that funny. What I don't find funny is that he is a few years younger than me but looks quite old. That makes me uncomfortable. I can't stand MP's who forget that it's not all about 'them' and get carried away with their own ego. So, that's most of them.
A good friend has been given a significant amount of money by the Arts Council to make a film with a well know writer - however, half of the money has already been shaved off to give to bodies who don't really have to do anything. It's already looking like they won't get paid for 6 months work. I do know people who survive on grants and sponsorship producing crap - and others who's work survives on funding for specific projects, so they never produce anything that has any scope or use outside a specific remit - which pretty much makes it worthless.
The kettle broke on Thursday - it was like an arrow to my heart (I drink a lot of tea) so I bought a new one yesterday - that meant braving BHS, a totally nightmarish shopping experience - the worse place in Hastings - a maze of crappy products and retail cull-de-sacs, mostly lingerie. There was a sale in the home department, the kettle I bought looked good and was half price, reduced to £25 from £50. When I got it home I examined it carefully. It was crap - really cheap and badly made. There is no way it was ever worth £50. I feel cheated.
Saturdays are shaping up to follow the same pattern every week. Up early, walk the dogs, cook and eat an omelette, get depressed by the papers and fall asleep for a while - exhausted, and wake up in a bad mood. I usually warm up by about 6pm.