Tuesday, August 09, 2005


Just watching a Sky at Night program about metorites. I can remember the first time I saw a metorite. It must have been on the way to Fiji for the first time, travelling from Mexico city. It was night and everyone had gone to sleep. Looking out of the window, I saw a metor high up in the sky

Friday, July 30, 2004

Football Poets - Catherine Moore 

Football Poets - Catherine Moore

Somebody got stabbed in Andy Diamandis’s chip shop
We’d lost at home
One piece of cod left
Two punters
Stands to reason don’t it

Friday, October 17, 2003

Roy's Eulogy 

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion
I've watch seabeams glitter in the darkness for ten hours a day
All those moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain
Time to die

Monday, October 06, 2003


I personally know someone who bought a slave in the 1970s. He was working as an anthropologist in Southern Africa and bought a slave for 2000 USD from two Afrikaner sisters who had bought the young man as a sex toy. After 6 weeks he had had enough, and George bought him. He then ended up working in Malawi.

It came to the attention of Hastings Banda, the president. Banda was also trained as an English GP (Doctor) as was George. So George was summoned for an audience. He dressed up in a suit, was kept waiting and then went in. After the usual pleasantries, Banda said that it had come to his attention that George owned a slave. George then went on to describe how it was an ideal situation. He was the best assistant he had every had. After some further tooing and froing, George asked? "You do realise that he is Afrikaans?" Banda was completely taken aback by this, and all he could say, was that's alright then!

It's a true story, but a fuller explanation would help. Oki, was Afrikaans, damaged at birth and rejected by his family. He was bought by the two sisters for sex, and George 'bought' him to get him out of his situation. He's now married with kids in Namibia. Last time I was in South Africa, he rang up another friend of George with whom I was staying. One of the children was ill and he needed some money for the hospital. It was sent, and George would sort things out later.

Sunday, September 28, 2003

Proust write Recherche de le temps perdu - Remberance of lost times or rememberance of things past. The key passage for me in the whole book comes at the start.

The story returns to Marcel the narrator. Breaking with his usual habit one afternoon, Marcel drinks tea with a petite madeleine, or small sponge cake, which instantly soothes his daily troubles and eventually reminds him of a similar combination of cake and tea he used to enjoy at Combray. Marveling at the random connections between present and past and at the involuntary nature of memory, he sets out to describe his reminiscences of Combray.i>