Going Green

So the local elections are over and the local mayor has been re-elected despite pissing everyone off for four years. It just goes to show that self-serving and self-promotion can pay off.

On the up side, his party has lost overall control of the council, and my ward elected three Green councillors.

Ironically, one of the things that helped to get them elected was a promise to help us get residents' parking in our street. Doesn't sound very Green, pandering to car owners, does it? The broader picture is, the street is a nightmare without it, so it will actually improve the environment. And the Green councillors drive along here - it's a designated cycle route - so they know the problems dangers only too well.

Whatever happens, I'm proud we went Green and lead the way.

All I want now (as well as the obvious) is for Vincent to stop smoking once and for all, and get a greener vehicle.

Parenting

I never wanted to be a parent. I just pick up the pieces of other people's parenting. The kids who never learnt that no meant no. The kids born with cerebral palsy or autism. Today it was a kid abused by dad, now with mum who ignored him (and me) the whole time I was in the house tutoring him. This adorable little boy has learning difficulties, but the biggest problem is leukemia.

I hope mum realises what a special little boy she has before it's too late.

Brits and the weather

It's been a scorching hot day today. Winter might actually have gone. Spring seems to have been missed out altogether. We've all talked about it obsessively all day. On Sunday we were complaining about the cold and rain. We berated the climate for denying us a clement holiday weekend. Today we complained about the stifling heat.

I suppose we talk about the weather a lot because we have so much of it, and it can change drastically from day to day. I try not to. As you can see from this post, I've succeeded really well.

Hot Male

Once again there are some fantastic pictures of the lovely Vincent over on DNYER. Where do they all come from and why am I never anywhere near where he is? (OK so I live in London, but Greta and Leila are over here, so why not Vincent?)

Hot Mail

I'm sitting here in the staff room at school feeling very hot (they say it's well over 70 degrees outside). There's an open door next to me and an open window behind me. It feels as if the radiator must be pumping out heat, but it's cold.

You know what? It's this darned computer baking the room.

Believe it or not

I just had an electrician to repair some damage caused by a lovely but very bad cat. He was an Hungarian Scientologist called Attila.

No, I don't believe it either, and it happened to me.

Trolling Around

It's a mystery to me. People (just women?) log on to something you assume they're interested in, and then they start being abusive to those with whom they purport to share an interest. What is missing from their lives?

Well, the lovely Vincent, of course. But he's missing from our lives, too, in any tangible and meaningful wasy. They act jealous of us. Let's just have fun and pity them.

Sweet Dreams

You know how you wake up in the middle of the night and you can't get back to sleep? The harder you try, the harder it gets. You start to panic that come morning you will be too tired to get up for work, and will be like a zombie all day.

Here's the solution. Have a waking dream about the lovely Mr D'Onofrio. You won't want to get back to sleep without finishing it, and you won't resent the lack of sleep. It will be worth every little bit of your tiredness.

Well, your boss might not think so when you fall asleep over your work...

Meeting Bobby Goren

Oh, no, I thought, not another Law and Order. I didn't bother to watch - something more appealing was on elsewhere. Then one night it was the only thing to watch, so I did. There was this great big bear of a man, so incongruous, with his knowledge of art and literature, languages and culture, psychology and psychiatry. Tall actors are not liked by the film and programme makers, so he couldn't really be as tall as he looked. But he was. And I do like a tall man. And a hefty one. And one with sexy stubble. So there I was, hooked.

Then you start to notice other things, don't you? His broad shoulders, his huge, fine hands, his gorgeous brown eyes, the way his face can change at will to express anything at all. You want to know more. You look up his films, you find websites and blogs. Before you know it, you have stripped ebay of everything you can find.

It may not be love, but it certainly feels as good.

Marrying a Beatle

I was always a great Beatles fan (went to see them live on stage when I was 10) and I was besotted with George Harrison. When he married Patti Boyd, I remember writing, "Today my gorgeous George married fatty, ratty, tatty, batty, scatty Patti Boyd". Strange, then, that I should have dreamt about Paul asking me to marry him. I must have been about 13, and of course then I was too young to marry Paul McCartney, whereas now I'm too old to marry him!

I stopped listening to pop and rock music when The Beatles broke up. My i-pod has only Beatles numbers on. I don't know how anyone can fail to see that Sgt Pepper is the greatest album ever, and the white album the most amazingly broad and eclectic.

Where would we be today if they hadn't existed?

Green Funerals

I just got a book about natural death and green funerals. (I'm rewriting my will prior to going off on a long haul flight in the summer.)

It's amazing how many green burial sites there are in the UK. There are two in my immediate area, and one in the next borough. Here's the problem.

Site 1 is just up the road. It's been closed for ordinary burials for years. Its inhabitants are strangers to me.

Site 2 is where my maternal grandparents are buried. The only grandparent I knew was my mum's dad. The others died before I was born. I loved him very much, we had a close bond.

Site 3 costs four times as much as the others, but it's where my paternal grandfather is buried. His wife is on the other side of London in a churchyard, so he is alone. I'm tempted to opt for this one to keep him company.

Which one should I choose?

Rat Scabies and The Holy Grail

Just found this book remaindered in a bookshop, someone else climbing on to the Da Vinci Code bandwagon. But I knew instantly this was not fiction, and not just because the hero is a real live punk rock band drummer. Over 20 years ago I went grail-hunting with Rat (Chris Millar)'s dad, stepmother and half brother, after doing a bunch of translation for them from the French. I climbed Montsegur with them, but got dumped when they went to Rennes-le-Chateau (didn't want to share all that booty with me, I guess). Anyway, rather gratifyingly, they appear never to have found the Holy Grail or anything else of value.