Around the world the changing of the seasons is distinguished in many different ways. And so too here in Britain; but no sudden onset of monsoon rains; dulcet, velvety snowfall; full moons or gophers checking their silhouettes for us. No, here the seasons cannot be distinguished by something so simple as meteorology, we're far too subtle for that (plus we have no weather to speak of - although that has never stopped the English from doing exactly that; incessantly). Instead one has to look at something far more reliable than the British weather: the British traffic. Anxious mothers in their unsuitably large Chelsea tractors, carrying their precious progeny, now vie with work commuters for the limited road space and ensure that nobody gets anywhere on time.
Whilst writing this post I've also realised that a year has gone full circle since I returned. A lot, and yet also very little, has happened since then. As always time is adept at playing tricks with your mind: looking forward a year seems endlessly long, and yet in hindsight is as fleeting and ephemeral as the life of a mayfly.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Dangers Of A Comfortable Life
There is certainly something to be said for the life on the road: seeing new places, meeting new people, learning about different cultures and history, tasting new foods an the general, constant adrenaline rush of the unexpected. It wouldn't, however, be generally seen as a particularly safe way of life. In hindsight my 3 years on the road contained many incidents and adventures that, in the cold light of day, sound like I was just asking for trouble: being caught and interrogated by secret police in Karabagh, being detained by police for a couple of days in Djibouti, riding on the roofs of buses and trucks along some very hair-raising roads, hitching in strange places (talking of which, it's very sad for me to see that the Swat valley, one of the nicest places in Pakistan, has descended into sectarian violence recently) and living off food of questionable provenance and prepared under conditions of dubious hygiene. And yet, notwithstanding all these potential risks, everything seemed to fall conveniently into place, problems were resolved or opened up new, unexpected and exciting opportunities. Even when I did get ill (invariably a case of the runs) it generally wasn't too bad and didn't last more than a day or so (only three times was I ill for more than a couple of days) and not once did I have an injury (though I did try and make up with blisters and stiff muscles after overdoing it whilst hiking).
Now, in the year that I have been back I have been out of action due to injury and illness more often than on the entire trip. My latest incident was the most embarrassing of all. I managed to badly jar my foot just kicking a football, and so this past week I've been hobbling round the house alternately wincing in pain and cursing my clumsiness. But all's well that ends well and I am now back in the saddle (literally) and will resume my cycling to work from next week.
On a totally unrelated note, and only tenuously linked to the preceding paragraph, things aren't going well in Georgia - it's been hard seeing such a beautiful place being inexorably torn apart by a conflict which, in theory is extremely local, but is in fact part of a larger global power-play. Unfortunately it is a situation that has looked inevitable for some time, especially since the Kosovan independence (see my previous post) that set a dangerous precedent coupled with the rising assertiveness of Russia. It'll be interesting to see how things pan out, standing up to a powerful Russia will take a lot more balls and nous than beating up weak international pariahs like Iraq and Serbia. Of course it's easy to criticise from the sidelines, but I think that the West ought to put a lot more effort into resolving so-called "Frozen Conflicts" - where opposing sides are not fighting, but the status quo of separation, hate and mistrust deepens daily - before they turn round and bite us in the ass when we least expect it. Because in today's interconnected world every conflict affects us, though often in ways we fail to realise at the time, and a resolution which reinforces the primacy of force is a huge step backwards for everyone.
Now, in the year that I have been back I have been out of action due to injury and illness more often than on the entire trip. My latest incident was the most embarrassing of all. I managed to badly jar my foot just kicking a football, and so this past week I've been hobbling round the house alternately wincing in pain and cursing my clumsiness. But all's well that ends well and I am now back in the saddle (literally) and will resume my cycling to work from next week.
On a totally unrelated note, and only tenuously linked to the preceding paragraph, things aren't going well in Georgia - it's been hard seeing such a beautiful place being inexorably torn apart by a conflict which, in theory is extremely local, but is in fact part of a larger global power-play. Unfortunately it is a situation that has looked inevitable for some time, especially since the Kosovan independence (see my previous post) that set a dangerous precedent coupled with the rising assertiveness of Russia. It'll be interesting to see how things pan out, standing up to a powerful Russia will take a lot more balls and nous than beating up weak international pariahs like Iraq and Serbia. Of course it's easy to criticise from the sidelines, but I think that the West ought to put a lot more effort into resolving so-called "Frozen Conflicts" - where opposing sides are not fighting, but the status quo of separation, hate and mistrust deepens daily - before they turn round and bite us in the ass when we least expect it. Because in today's interconnected world every conflict affects us, though often in ways we fail to realise at the time, and a resolution which reinforces the primacy of force is a huge step backwards for everyone.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Loss
Hi everyone. I apologise for being useless at keeping up my blog. My only excuse (and it's a poor one at that) is that with a routine life you get somewhat stuck in a rut need to force yourself so much more to get out of it. My jolt that brought me back to my blog was the news, earlier this week, that my cousin's partner, who I had met for the first time exactly a year ago at our family reunion in Prague (fourth from left in this picture), died in a freak accident falling down the stairs at home at the tragic age of 38 (the details are still a bit unclear, but it goes to show that the "little known fact" that more people are killed by stairs than shark attacks is quite true). I can't claim to have known Nancy well, but in the short time I spent with her she came across as a warm, curious person in the prime of her life. I was also very much hoping on visiting her and my cousin (who I have still not met in person yet) sometime soon as they had just recently moved closer to us (upstate New York, as opposed to Hawaii where they had been previously). I suppose, along with the feelings of shock and grief there is a great feeling of unjustness - that this shouldn't have happened. I can easily see how people, when faced with such events, that make no sense and seem cosmically unfair, find solace in explaining them away with notions of fate, kismet or some higher power with some ineffable, but ultimately rewarding and benign, plan. But for me it just shows the arbitrary nature of life and our existence. There is no meaning. There is no purpose (only that which you decide to give yourself). And, as the hackneyed saying goes, life is unfair.
That very same day dealt one of those karmic coincidences that people love to interpret on some higher level. I received a card from a friend of mine in France informing me of the birth of her (first) baby boy. It is certainly poetic and shows how all tragedies are personal and are occuring everywhere and yet the world just keeps on going regardless, no matter what those of us who are affected may think.
But, apart from that, what have I been doing over this past month (more actually) that I have neglected my blogging. Well, not a great deal, at least not a great deal that I would deem newsworthy of my blog (when it's not work then it generally involves going down the pub with friends or playing football with colleagues from work, which I have just started doing), but here's the lowdown. After your deluge of interest (thanks for asking Rook) I am pleased to say that my abscess has gone and the only trace of its passing is a slight little dimple in the back of my neck (at least I no longer look as if I had just escaped the Matrix). I've also said goodbye to a couple of friends (John and Emma) whom I met whilst travelling in South America (as did they) and who are now off on an eight-month round-the-world jaunt of their own starting with Beijing and the Olympics and taking in a dozen or so countries. Otherwise Summer is still undecided as to whether it wants to show itself here in London - not that I mind that much as people often spend 9 months out of the year complaining about how cold it is and then when Summer finally does come they switch to moaning about the heat and humidity - and I have begun planning my next trip. Not a big one mind you, although I do hope to be able to take all my holiday entitlement in one go so that I can hopefully see something of the countries I want to visit.
That very same day dealt one of those karmic coincidences that people love to interpret on some higher level. I received a card from a friend of mine in France informing me of the birth of her (first) baby boy. It is certainly poetic and shows how all tragedies are personal and are occuring everywhere and yet the world just keeps on going regardless, no matter what those of us who are affected may think.
But, apart from that, what have I been doing over this past month (more actually) that I have neglected my blogging. Well, not a great deal, at least not a great deal that I would deem newsworthy of my blog (when it's not work then it generally involves going down the pub with friends or playing football with colleagues from work, which I have just started doing), but here's the lowdown. After your deluge of interest (thanks for asking Rook) I am pleased to say that my abscess has gone and the only trace of its passing is a slight little dimple in the back of my neck (at least I no longer look as if I had just escaped the Matrix). I've also said goodbye to a couple of friends (John and Emma) whom I met whilst travelling in South America (as did they) and who are now off on an eight-month round-the-world jaunt of their own starting with Beijing and the Olympics and taking in a dozen or so countries. Otherwise Summer is still undecided as to whether it wants to show itself here in London - not that I mind that much as people often spend 9 months out of the year complaining about how cold it is and then when Summer finally does come they switch to moaning about the heat and humidity - and I have begun planning my next trip. Not a big one mind you, although I do hope to be able to take all my holiday entitlement in one go so that I can hopefully see something of the countries I want to visit.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Football, Pus And Treaties (An Ordinary Week Then)
This past week hasn't been particularly great with bad news accumulating wherever I seem to look. First off were the Irish who rejected the EU Lisbon treaty. As a committed Europhile I was naturally disappointed, but also very surprised. I would have understood it if the British (had they been given the chance to vote) had rejected the treaty as they are notoriously jingoistic and stubbornly cling to silly notions of sovereignty that have no basis in reality. The Irish, on the other hand, have been the great beneficiaries of the EU. From being an economic and social basket case from its foundation well into the 70s it now has the second-highest GDP per capita in the world (as a measure of PPP) thanks, in no small part, to access to European markets and EU subsidies. One would therefore expect that the Irish would be huge fans of the EU. Obviously not. Which is a shame as the treaty was supposed to deal with many of the criticisms that detractors levelled at it, such as being unwieldy and nothing but a talking shop. Obviously the EU has an image problem and perhaps needs to spend a bit of money on PR to launch a charm offensive.
The second piece of bad news was slightly more painful, at least for me personally, as I developed an abscess in the muscle at the back of my neck. All last week I had a slight discomfort and then on Friday, all of a sudden, it got really painful. In the end I had to go to A&E to get it lanced which was not a particularly pleasant experience to say the least. In fact I was amazed that so much pus came out of me. So it was on the antibiotics for me this past week with regular trips to the nurse to squeeze out more yellow goo. Better out than in as they say, despite the pain, although it has been hard to get the pus out at home due to its location and so I've had to enlist the help of my mother and brother, although they're not that much help as they can't bear to be ruthless enough to push out the gunk as I'm writhing in agony. But that's enough of those gory details (I'll spare you the photo).
And finally there's the football. Not only have the Czech Republic crashed out in embarrassing circumstances at the last minute, but it also seems that every other team that I support gets beaten. Possibly a handy skill I suppose - if you're planning a little flutter on a game just ask me who I'll be rooting for and then bet on the opposition. Ah well, let's see what this week'll bring.
The second piece of bad news was slightly more painful, at least for me personally, as I developed an abscess in the muscle at the back of my neck. All last week I had a slight discomfort and then on Friday, all of a sudden, it got really painful. In the end I had to go to A&E to get it lanced which was not a particularly pleasant experience to say the least. In fact I was amazed that so much pus came out of me. So it was on the antibiotics for me this past week with regular trips to the nurse to squeeze out more yellow goo. Better out than in as they say, despite the pain, although it has been hard to get the pus out at home due to its location and so I've had to enlist the help of my mother and brother, although they're not that much help as they can't bear to be ruthless enough to push out the gunk as I'm writhing in agony. But that's enough of those gory details (I'll spare you the photo).
And finally there's the football. Not only have the Czech Republic crashed out in embarrassing circumstances at the last minute, but it also seems that every other team that I support gets beaten. Possibly a handy skill I suppose - if you're planning a little flutter on a game just ask me who I'll be rooting for and then bet on the opposition. Ah well, let's see what this week'll bring.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Changes
Earlier this week I was awoken from my sleep by the sound of the falling rain. Before fully surfacing into consciousness my instinctive reaction was to feel around me to ensure that my possessions weren't touching the walls of the tent and thereby letting the water in. Then I realised that I was in my bed, in my home and not in a tent in a random field trying to look unobtrusive. It was a startling reminder of how my trip has changed me.
Now that I have been back a few months I can see the ways in which I am different and act differently than before. Of course it's difficult to evaluate such things from such an up-close standpoint, but I hope I'm being honest with myself. Firstly I feel I am far more phlegmatic, at least towards other people and external factors out of my control. I am far less likely to let things bother me - a delayed train, torn clothes, annoying kids, shit weather, flat tyre and other minor mishaps I take in my stride. Similarly I think I am less judgemental than I used to be, having on numerous occasions had to change my views of people and places once I had gotten to know them better (this really infuriates my dad who feels he can't get a single opinion out of me as I evade his questions with caveats and conditions).
I also find myself more open towards people and more willing to go to them to try and help them out. Before I wouldn't hesitate to help someone if they came up to me and asked for it, but now I will actively offer if I see someone who I think is in need of help. Not that I am trying to make out that I am some sort of saint, but so often have I been given a helping hand when I least expected it, with no questions asked and nothing expected in return, that I know what a positive effect that can have on a persons day, regardless of how small the act is. The world can certainly do with more random acts of kindness (such as the one at the start of this post).
During my trip I was lucky enough to see first hand some amazing natural landscapes as well as the damage and degradation being done to it. I therefore feel far more responsible towards the environment in my actions and decisions I take (although I'm far from being perfect). I've also become evangelical in trying to persuade people to be more environmentally aware in their everyday lives by, for example, reusing plastic bags, switching off appliances, trying to recycle and so on. However it's difficult to be forceful with people you don't know that well and so my attentions are often focused on my brother who, I feel, doesn't understand the urgency of the situation, which leads to stalemated arguments where I accuse him of being uncaring and selfish and he retaliates by saying I'm not practical and far too idealistic. And this is where I feel very pessimistic about the future, because if people as intelligent and well educated as my brother, who have been educated about the various environmental problems that beset our planet from an early age and have the means to make lifestyle changes still do not do enough, then there is little hope for people who have not been educated, and struggle just to survive, to make those changes. And I am not holding up my brother as some evil or callous person, quite the opposite is true, but he is symbolic of the apathy and dislocation that are far too common in our society. In western Europe especially, we are far removed from either hardship or nature in a pure, unadulterated form. It's a shame because, despite being an atheist (and proud of it), I had several moments that are best described in English as religious experiences. All occurred when alone in the middle of some expanse of wilderness with the only sign of humanity the thin, indistinct trail leading off in front and behind me. It is impossible to fully describe the feeling of awe, and respect, and warmth, but the (natural) world becomes more precious to you (not that this means I will become a hermit and live in a cave somewhere). And since we rarely have the opportunities to make these connections ourselves our view of the world is only half of what it should/could be.
Not that I have an answer or anything - you can't just ask everyone to walk off into the wilderness so that they may find your epiphany. Now if you'll just excuse me, I'm off to be morose in the corner.
Now that I have been back a few months I can see the ways in which I am different and act differently than before. Of course it's difficult to evaluate such things from such an up-close standpoint, but I hope I'm being honest with myself. Firstly I feel I am far more phlegmatic, at least towards other people and external factors out of my control. I am far less likely to let things bother me - a delayed train, torn clothes, annoying kids, shit weather, flat tyre and other minor mishaps I take in my stride. Similarly I think I am less judgemental than I used to be, having on numerous occasions had to change my views of people and places once I had gotten to know them better (this really infuriates my dad who feels he can't get a single opinion out of me as I evade his questions with caveats and conditions).
I also find myself more open towards people and more willing to go to them to try and help them out. Before I wouldn't hesitate to help someone if they came up to me and asked for it, but now I will actively offer if I see someone who I think is in need of help. Not that I am trying to make out that I am some sort of saint, but so often have I been given a helping hand when I least expected it, with no questions asked and nothing expected in return, that I know what a positive effect that can have on a persons day, regardless of how small the act is. The world can certainly do with more random acts of kindness (such as the one at the start of this post).
During my trip I was lucky enough to see first hand some amazing natural landscapes as well as the damage and degradation being done to it. I therefore feel far more responsible towards the environment in my actions and decisions I take (although I'm far from being perfect). I've also become evangelical in trying to persuade people to be more environmentally aware in their everyday lives by, for example, reusing plastic bags, switching off appliances, trying to recycle and so on. However it's difficult to be forceful with people you don't know that well and so my attentions are often focused on my brother who, I feel, doesn't understand the urgency of the situation, which leads to stalemated arguments where I accuse him of being uncaring and selfish and he retaliates by saying I'm not practical and far too idealistic. And this is where I feel very pessimistic about the future, because if people as intelligent and well educated as my brother, who have been educated about the various environmental problems that beset our planet from an early age and have the means to make lifestyle changes still do not do enough, then there is little hope for people who have not been educated, and struggle just to survive, to make those changes. And I am not holding up my brother as some evil or callous person, quite the opposite is true, but he is symbolic of the apathy and dislocation that are far too common in our society. In western Europe especially, we are far removed from either hardship or nature in a pure, unadulterated form. It's a shame because, despite being an atheist (and proud of it), I had several moments that are best described in English as religious experiences. All occurred when alone in the middle of some expanse of wilderness with the only sign of humanity the thin, indistinct trail leading off in front and behind me. It is impossible to fully describe the feeling of awe, and respect, and warmth, but the (natural) world becomes more precious to you (not that this means I will become a hermit and live in a cave somewhere). And since we rarely have the opportunities to make these connections ourselves our view of the world is only half of what it should/could be.
Not that I have an answer or anything - you can't just ask everyone to walk off into the wilderness so that they may find your epiphany. Now if you'll just excuse me, I'm off to be morose in the corner.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Older, But Not Necessarily Wiser
The reunion turned out to be quite a success. In all over twenty of us came down for the weekend, some even bringing friends and partners. Like all good French soirées this one started with an apéro replete with wine, beer and songs. And even though when we were in school we were divided along cliqueish lines (like all schools there was the cool clique, the slacker clique, the basketballers, etc.) when we got together now we got on really well and had much more in common than before. After a good deal of carousing in a park bandstand (the classic meeting point from our days at school) the evening moved to a restaurant, then a bar, and then another. Well suffice to say that the entire evening was great fun and that I wasn't feeling particularly bouncy the next morning.
Apart from the changes in people, the town itself had been given a bit of a makeover with the centre receiving a glitzy refurbishment with lots more pedestrian areas and a bright, new central plaza. In fact, pretty much the only thing that hadn't changed was my French. My friends pointed out to me that me that my slang was rooted in the late 90's and was so "has been". (It took me a while to understand what they were saying as they were pronouncing it 'asbiiin and I wasn't expecting an anglicism to slip into the notoriously chauvinistic French language.) Apparently there's a whole new lexicon (especially internet related) that has come out in the past decade of which I am completely unaware.
Anyway, it was great to renew those old friendships and connections as school days are a special time and there are very few people you can share those memories with.
Apart from the changes in people, the town itself had been given a bit of a makeover with the centre receiving a glitzy refurbishment with lots more pedestrian areas and a bright, new central plaza. In fact, pretty much the only thing that hadn't changed was my French. My friends pointed out to me that me that my slang was rooted in the late 90's and was so "has been". (It took me a while to understand what they were saying as they were pronouncing it 'asbiiin and I wasn't expecting an anglicism to slip into the notoriously chauvinistic French language.) Apparently there's a whole new lexicon (especially internet related) that has come out in the past decade of which I am completely unaware.
Anyway, it was great to renew those old friendships and connections as school days are a special time and there are very few people you can share those memories with.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Auld Acquaintance
Last year, whilst on the home leg of my trip (I think it was in Albania), I was watching the film Grosse Point Blank. In a nutshell it's about a contract killer returning to his home town for his 10-year high school reunion. This got me thinking about my own high school days and how next year (i.e. this year) it would be 10 years since I had left school.
The seed had been sown and soon after returning I decided to set about trying to organise my own class reunion (an entire high school reunion would have been crazy as each year group had over 500 pupils and I didn't know many of them). There were two immediate problems to the exercise: I was now living in London and yet I went to school in the south west of France, so finding and contacting my old classmates would be more difficult, and secondly the whole concept of school reunions isn't very common in France. Nevertheless I started by contacting my high school friends that I'm still in touch with to get their opinions on the idea. Initial feedback was positive and so I went ahead with the task of finding the rest of my classmates, mainly by trawling through the internet. Once I had found a few people it snowballed from there and in the end I managed to find 35 of the 38 former pupils.
Despite my happy memories of Pau it seems that people were itching to leave, with only 5 still living in the area, and some having moved as far afield as Ireland and Norway to get away; but now, this weekend, we are returning again to our old stomping grounds, some of us for the first time in several years. Personally I am curious to see how much we have changed and what we have become in the intervening 10 years (although I don't expect any of my former classmates to be assassins I'm sure there will be plenty of interesting stories). And with that I'll leave you with our class photo from 1997 (see if you can spot me).
The seed had been sown and soon after returning I decided to set about trying to organise my own class reunion (an entire high school reunion would have been crazy as each year group had over 500 pupils and I didn't know many of them). There were two immediate problems to the exercise: I was now living in London and yet I went to school in the south west of France, so finding and contacting my old classmates would be more difficult, and secondly the whole concept of school reunions isn't very common in France. Nevertheless I started by contacting my high school friends that I'm still in touch with to get their opinions on the idea. Initial feedback was positive and so I went ahead with the task of finding the rest of my classmates, mainly by trawling through the internet. Once I had found a few people it snowballed from there and in the end I managed to find 35 of the 38 former pupils.
Despite my happy memories of Pau it seems that people were itching to leave, with only 5 still living in the area, and some having moved as far afield as Ireland and Norway to get away; but now, this weekend, we are returning again to our old stomping grounds, some of us for the first time in several years. Personally I am curious to see how much we have changed and what we have become in the intervening 10 years (although I don't expect any of my former classmates to be assassins I'm sure there will be plenty of interesting stories). And with that I'll leave you with our class photo from 1997 (see if you can spot me).
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Getting To The Root Of The Problem
There are distinct advantages of living at your parents' house: cheap rent is one, and cheap rent is another (I know that technically this is just one point, but it's such a big one that I thought I'd mention it twice). Now that I'm "home alone", as it were, I have had several responsibilities thrust upon me, the most onerous of which is tending the garden.
When my father left last month he left instructions that I should dig out a pernicious patch of brambles at the back of the garden "with the roots" so that they wouldn't grow back. What he failed to tell me was that bramble roots can extend to over half a metre underground. So there I was heaving and ho-ing for the best part of Monday trying to get the buggers out and although I got most of them I'm sure there are a few blighters left that will survive to reclaim their patch of the garden and I will be, once again, forced to do battle with them. Not something I'm particularly relishing as the battle against nature is a race against the Red Queen and not one you can win.
Despite having often waxed lyrical about the beauty of the great outdoors and unspoilt wilderness I'll also be the first to admit that I am an urbanite at heart (I'm too pragmatic to be able to overlook the advantages of public transport, readily accessible amenities and cultural establishments) and am lacking the gardening passion which seems to grip the rest of the country. It might possibly have something to do with my aversion to trying to tame nature, preferring to let it be; or perhaps my general laziness and aversion to doing any work unless it's strictly necessary.
When my father left last month he left instructions that I should dig out a pernicious patch of brambles at the back of the garden "with the roots" so that they wouldn't grow back. What he failed to tell me was that bramble roots can extend to over half a metre underground. So there I was heaving and ho-ing for the best part of Monday trying to get the buggers out and although I got most of them I'm sure there are a few blighters left that will survive to reclaim their patch of the garden and I will be, once again, forced to do battle with them. Not something I'm particularly relishing as the battle against nature is a race against the Red Queen and not one you can win.
Despite having often waxed lyrical about the beauty of the great outdoors and unspoilt wilderness I'll also be the first to admit that I am an urbanite at heart (I'm too pragmatic to be able to overlook the advantages of public transport, readily accessible amenities and cultural establishments) and am lacking the gardening passion which seems to grip the rest of the country. It might possibly have something to do with my aversion to trying to tame nature, preferring to let it be; or perhaps my general laziness and aversion to doing any work unless it's strictly necessary.
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Enemy Of My Enemy?
America's so-called War On Terror, to the disinterested bystander, is a rather nebulous affair. Many disparate geopolitical problems, some related and others not, are seemingly plucked at random and woven together into the miasma that we find presently ourselves in. Because of the vagueness of this crusade many situations are conflated together to produce even more confusion. One perennial misconception is to lump Al Qaeda's brand of terrorism/insurgency with the problem the US is having with Iran (here are two articles, from the Washington Post and Daily Telegraph, that do just that), the general line of reasoning being: "they're both Muslims and they both hate us ergo they're the same." Nothing could be further from the truth as was demonstrated by a news article last week which, if it weren't for the subject matter, would have been rather funny. Iran's president Ahmadinejad, running off at the mouth as per usual, accused a secret Zionist-American conspiracy for the 9/11 attacks (the rumour was supposedly started by Hezbollah). A popular move amongst the Islamic extremist audience one might think, but not so. Al Qaeda's no. 2 immediately made a statement denouncing the Iranians for wanting to discredit al Qaeda and their successes in attacking America. He then went on to claim that Iran was in league with America in the latter's invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. (It reminds me of when I was a kid and I saw a news report where the IRA claimed responsibility for a bombing. To my naive and innocent mind I couldn't understand why anyone would want to claim responsibility for doing such a bad thing.) In fact the Shi'ite theocracy in Iran gives the USA a good run for its money for the top of al Qaeda's hate list. It just goes to show that the political dynamics in the region are far more complex than "with us or against us" soundbites.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Manic Monday
Monday was quite an exciting day for me, although, to be honest, I would have rather it had been a boring one. It started off quite normally, with lovely blue skies as I got on my bike to cycle to work, as is my wont. However, less than a kilometre from work, a woman in her car turned onto the road. Not something I would have a problem with under normal circumstances, unfortunately I was occupying the particular stretch of road that she had her eye on, and although I have put on a few extra kilos of late I was still unable to outmuscle her car and so was sent sprawling. Luckily it was more of a glancing blow and I managed to swerve away somewhat before impact, but nevertheless I still fell flat on my face and got to taste the tarmac.
Naturally I was none too pleased and so I started swearing, which is my standard fall-back response to most things. The woman had, by this time, stopped and helped me groggily get to my feet and off the road where I could pat myself down and check for broken bones. I was thankful that apart from my lip, which was swelling to impressive proportions, and some general scrapes and bruises everything seemed to be OK, as I really didn't want to go to hospital if I could at all help it (last time I was in A&E I had to wait for a painful 3 hours with a torn ligament at the end of which I was given a Tubigrip bandage, some paracetamol and crutches and told to bugger off). In a much worse state were my glasses which were badly scratched. My assailant, feeling particularly remorseful (as she should, as I had right of way), gave me a lift to work; and it wasn't until I arrived that the shock of what had happened hit me. I thought that I would be able to cope with such an event effortlessly (not least because I came away from it more surprised than anything else), but instead I was dazed and confused and certainly not with it and so I took my leave and returned home (by bus).
The next day, although my mind had cleared, my body felt as if it had been passed through the wringer with most of my muscles refusing to do anything but the bare minimum. My fat lip (see below) also made eating rather uncomfortable. My main task for the day was to order new glasses (because, being the well-organised and forward-thinking person I am I only have one pair of specs and not even any back-up contact lenses), and looking back on it I am partly thankful that they got scratched and will therefore (I hope) be paid for by the insurance claim, because they certainly weren't cheap.
Naturally I was none too pleased and so I started swearing, which is my standard fall-back response to most things. The woman had, by this time, stopped and helped me groggily get to my feet and off the road where I could pat myself down and check for broken bones. I was thankful that apart from my lip, which was swelling to impressive proportions, and some general scrapes and bruises everything seemed to be OK, as I really didn't want to go to hospital if I could at all help it (last time I was in A&E I had to wait for a painful 3 hours with a torn ligament at the end of which I was given a Tubigrip bandage, some paracetamol and crutches and told to bugger off). In a much worse state were my glasses which were badly scratched. My assailant, feeling particularly remorseful (as she should, as I had right of way), gave me a lift to work; and it wasn't until I arrived that the shock of what had happened hit me. I thought that I would be able to cope with such an event effortlessly (not least because I came away from it more surprised than anything else), but instead I was dazed and confused and certainly not with it and so I took my leave and returned home (by bus).
The next day, although my mind had cleared, my body felt as if it had been passed through the wringer with most of my muscles refusing to do anything but the bare minimum. My fat lip (see below) also made eating rather uncomfortable. My main task for the day was to order new glasses (because, being the well-organised and forward-thinking person I am I only have one pair of specs and not even any back-up contact lenses), and looking back on it I am partly thankful that they got scratched and will therefore (I hope) be paid for by the insurance claim, because they certainly weren't cheap.
Anyway, the swelling in my lip has gone down a fair bit now so I can eat more or less normally. Here's hoping that the rest of the week is more boring than Monday.
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