Dynargh dhe'n Blogofrob

Wednesday 15th June 2005

Ah well, I suppose I had better post something, given that people have actually started to pick up on the absence of anything new here - although if you look carefully you'll see the films on the right change a bit and that there are a few new links fill to the interest vacuum at work. What you won't have noticed, even if you cared to look, is a steady change in the books I'm reading. I used to plough through a book in a few days but recently I've regressed to my pre-school speed. Granted, in those days, reading consisted of focussing on words printed on white card held up by my demanding parents. I stammered my way through "Backhand Volley", "Sainsbury's" and "Aga" terrified they would carry out their threat and leave me out for the wolves. I currently volunteer at a primary school, nudging 8 year olds through stories about child detectives or loveable pigs. Exposing them to the same threats isn't effective - in fact threats in general are redundant and I have to resort to bribery. The key is that by the time they've read the passage to me, they've forgotten that I've promised to draw them a picture of Harry Potter with his hair on fire or 50 Cent with his hair on fire or me with my hair on fire (etc etc).

It's taking me so long to get through books because I don't get a train or bus into work - I walk. As a result, getting into work, I don't have time where I can sit down (or more realistically bundle myself into the awkward gap between two other angry, sweaty commuters) and read. I've decided this has directly contributed to the fact that I find it harder than the 8 year olds to grasp that Darius the Pig is unhappy because his Master doesn't give him sugar lumps. As a result I have decided to move house.

So at last, maybe, I will have something vaguely interesting to blog about. Because, to be honest, since I got back from East Asia things haven't been particularly interesting in my world, and work seems to monopolise most of the time I dedicate to sitting in front of a computer. But now the rich experience of crudely painted-over rising damp and offensively inflated deposits beckons - like the gnarly finger of a brylcreemed estate agent at the door of a delightful basement flat (cellar) a short walk from the amenities of West Hampstead (there's no public transport, Kilburn).

I'll miss Clerkenwell - mainly for the food. There are some great restaurants on and around St John's Street, hairy fish peddlers nothwithstanding. It was Claire's birthday on Monday, and we went to the Clerkenwell Dining Room and Bar, where I ate tongue for the first time (not a euphemism - this was the tongue of a calf) a rather salty, and not particularly pleasant experience. Aside from that I recommend the place. Before I desert the area for good I hope to force Claire to join me at St John, the offal restaurant a bit further down the street, to see if I can find anything that beats silkworm pupae as the oddest thing I've ever (knowingly) eaten.

72 - posted at 18:23:54
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