a constable sky this morning

swann's way

like charles swann who famously "fell for a woman who wasn't even his type", i'm still getting over spending $45 on a book ("the mill on the floss") by an author i don't even like. blame everyman's library.

did someone mention david beckham?

not a good look

two men on a scooter.

the 4 stages of fitness

1. fast
2. efficient
3. slow
4. paddington bear.

keep aiming high

former "people's princess", katie price,* has become a porn-entrepreneur (or is that entreporneur?), having launched a range of "jordan" blobs and sex gizmos. will they sell as well as her memoirs? doesn't matter. she's done well, has our katie.

*price relinquished her title to jade goody.

feathered lollipops

an exact idea of how much seed those crazy, mooching parrots eat each week.

not this time, thank-you

received this year's concert programme from "musica viva", melbourne's toney chamber music forum. thought it very broad-minded of them to find room for a gentile on their mailing list. shows an optimistic outlook. a sunny disposition. in hoping someone besides jews will subscribe to the upkeep of high culture in melbourne. bravo.

unfortunately the culture isn't so very high. the programme is a scratch lot (some of it by australian composers, which is unconscionable). have no interest in hearing any "classical" music written after "rhapsody in blue". it's junk. film scores are much better.

so this year "include me out", as sam goldwyn said.

happy birthday

last week billy bunter, of greyfriars school, turned 100. he is one of the great characters of english literature, as impressive and estimable as any of dickens heroes. (for an outline of the bunter phenom see george orwell's celebrated essay "boys' weeklies".) bunter is swell: fat, greedy, lazy, skiving, deceitful, covetous and unintelligent. though, i confess, he doesn't make quite the startling impression he used to. that's because everybody's obese nowadays. that's not his fault.

good news

the world is a lot less beige.

yesterday toshiba surrendered in the high-definition dvd war. the future will be blu-ray. toshiba's hd-dvd format was developed with fellow axis power, the beige behemoth microsoft, whose apps are famously cumbersome, slow and ugly. blu-ray is aligned with apple—elegant and simple—which suits me.

saving the world from wintel hideousness, one small step at a time.

comfort reading

one of the more accurate ways of ascertaining one's favourite books—one least susceptible to voter fraud, shall we say—is to declare which books we like to re-read; which books we tend to read again and again when either tv is too stupid or the brain is too lazy to grapple with anything new; when we desiderate something pleasing and familiar. something cosy.

these are my 10 comfort reads:

t. s. eliot, "the waste land: a facsimile and transcript".
j. d. salinger, "franny & zooey".
simpsons comics.
alan bennett, "forty years on".
p. g. wodehouse, "the code of the woosters".
john henry newman, "apologia pro vita sua".
a. e. housman, "a shropshire lad".
kenneth grahame, "the wind in the willows".
dickens, "the pickwick papers".
george orwell, "essays".

spooked

had to replace a defective lightbulb in the microwave. a surprisingly complicated procedure which involved pulling the machine apart and delving in its innermost workings. of course there were the usual warnings against removing the outer case, authorising "service personnel only" and some blather about earthing the appliance first. pooh-pooh. the great thing about being male is that you never have to bother with warnings or danger notices of any kind. (that's girl stuff). one just carries on regardless. however, lately i've been watching the robert aldrich film noir "kiss me deadly" in which gaby rodgers opens a doomsday box, ignoring all warnings, with cataclysmic consequences. the correlation didn't escape me.

full of bunly goodness

as lunchlady doris said to lisa simpson, à propos of something else. these christian buns are the best thing about easter (mixed peel must have mildly narcotic properties). much better than silly eggs. plus they help keep the saracens away, which is so important nowadays.

bearded git

anyone who has negligently jogged through a copy of "the divine comedy" will, i expect, be puzzled why dante places traitors—to kindred, country, and lords—at the very bottom of hell, where the punishment is fiercest. why treason especially? when you consider the vast catalogue of human iniquity—from talking during the movie, to upskirting, to bakers putting chocolate in their hot-cross buns—treason, or double-dealing, doesn't seem so terribly bad. or so i thought.

then i happened to hear the archbishop of canterbury's simpering plea for the incorporation of sharia law in england. quite amazing, really. a supposed "defender of the faith" arguing for an accommodation with radical evil (to shoplift a phrase from hannah arendt). and at a time of war, no less. what larks.

one thinks back to the '30s and the reputations of the high-and-splendid obliterated forever by their keeping company with appeasement: geoffrey dawson (editor of "the times"), lord londonderry, miss unity mitford, halifax, chamberlain. pooh-pooh. child's play compared to the archbish's effort.

though i suppose i should send a "thank you" note to lambeth palace for clearing up this dante business for me. all quite straightforward now.

(note: pix "the kiss of judas". no excuse needed for giotto. it seemed most appropriate.)

smashing

meanwhile in blighty. a new "mr men" animated children's show has re-designed the villainous mr rude character as an impolite, unhygienic, farting frenchman. this is excellent. mutual antipathy is the traditional measure of anglo-french relations. it is wholesome to see them restored. (francophilia—especially of the highbrow type displayed by julian barnes—has no place in the public realm. that's letting the side down. offside, sir.) anyway, good show channel 5.

i wonder if we'll ever see a rag-headed "mr evil"?

something for hannah

a lenten benediction

courteous thanks to ami, belinda, betty, cath, chloé, ella, emma, gretta, hannah, jennifer, karina, mel, nora, paige, rachel, rachelle, renee, (and anyone else i may have carelessly omitted), for stopping by "foundfoundfound" last year, leaving comments, and helping themselves (unprompted) to all the chupa-chups.

swell egg of the day

roz chast, cartoonist. a googly-eyed, jewish girl from flatbush. find her stuff in the "new yorker".

made too much

shrove tuesday means pancakes, of course. in my case it was blueberry and cinnamon pancakes with raspberry, banana and passionfruit. it was enough, i subsequently realised, to feed a modestly sized irish family of 17.