Сегодня я пошла в кино. Там все пищи очень дорогой. Я думала – Почему? Если бы была дешевлее, многие ли купили.
I voted today. That was fun! But next please, I'd like a third box.
This two-choice thing is apparently "the most democratic system". But really? Does it not really just mean that everyone feels a little bit bullied into giving their other vote to Boris or Ken?
The whole thing raises other unanswered questions for me. For example, what if the top two people from the first round get less than fifty per cent? Do they still go through, even though more than half of London voted for neither of them?
Is our bullied second vote an assurance of our complicancy? Once you hold elections, we're all implicated. It's like the Soviet in Poland in 1939, they had elections, the whole population was involved, everyone was a colaborator. But the Nazis didn't, there were no collaborators, everyone conspired against them.
The other thing is, if for example, the top two guys are Brian and Boris, and Ken is third, but Ken has LOADS of second votes, so many that if they were counted he'd easily beat B&B, then is that OK?
And what if the winner has the most votes, but still less than half?
Maybe I should ask my questions to someone who knows.
But, other the other hand, preportional representation for the Assembly thingy, very exciting! Couldn't we develop a similar thing for the Commons? Maybe if we make all the constituencies twice as big, and then each constituency each elects an MP, but everyone also votes for a party list, and the other half of the seats are allocted preportionally based on this second vote? With a 5%, or 10% cut off so it doesn't descend into complete chaos. (For example, inter-war Poland, over 60 parties in government. Or Czechoslovakia, where a coaltion required 5 parties to be a majority).
Preportional representation is the enemy of the stable two-party system.
As the Evening Standard boards proclaim - there are thirteen days until the London Mayoral election.
That means there are fourteen days until the end of my exams.
The end!
Oh gosh.
I haven't even reached the beginning yet.
When I was at home last, I went to Sainsbury’s. In Sainsbury’s there was one of those wonderful free-sample ladies, who on this occasion was giving free ice-cream. It was yum - very nice. I have since forgotten the name of the brand. It costs £2.99 and is made in Yorkshire, but have no idea what it is called or what the tub looks like. However, this is irrelevant.
After I had tasted a lady behind me tried it. She too was impressed. She enquired - “Does it contain gluten?” The Sainsbury’s lady dutifully read the back of the tub, and confirmed “No”; the ice-cream with the forgotten name is gluten-free.
End of story you may think, but no, unknown lady asked “So it’s fine for coeliacs then?”
Yes it is! You’ve already found this out with your first question!
This got me thinking, when I worked in Pret in York, and before that, The Cherry Tree, in Pocklington, people would often ask “Is this suitable for coeliacs?” or “Is this gluten-free? I’m/My wife/My friend is coeliac.” (Or even “One of our party is a coeliac, so she’s brought her own sandwiches. It is ok for her to eat them here? She’s buying a tea.”)
Coeliac. Such a funny sounding word.
Coeliacs.
Do they exist in London? I’ve not come across any, or at least no one with coeliac disease who announces it in a sandwich shop. So many people ask for gluten-free, or wheat-free, but I’ve never heard anyone say “coeliac” in London.
Coeliac isn’t trendy, is it?
Alternative explanation : Coeliac often requires another level of explanation; gluten-free does what it says on the tin. This second-saving technique is especially important in London.
See the following examples :
1. Customer “Is this oat and fruit slice suitable for coelics?”
Server “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Suitable for what?”
Customer “Is it gluten-free?”
Server “No, but it is wheat-free. The only source of gluten is the oats.”
2. Customer “Is this salad gluten-free?”
Server “Yes”
Explanation three – The people of London are more guarded than Yorksiremen. Well, we probably knew this already.
Either way, now I’ve noticed this trend, I’ll hear twenty people say coeliac tomorrow.
Come on, let’s prove me wrong.
I hate this essay more than I've ever hated an essay before.
It's going to be so much worse than any essay has been before.
I've put off doing so many things for the benefit of this essay, which has found itself really no closer to completion.
Time is wasted.
Nothing is achieved.
If all the hours not spent on other things had been spent on the essay it would be over.
And good.
I just want rid of it.
Ten bits of news :
1. The Russians are voting for Medvedev.
Voting ends in Kaliningrad, the Western-most province, in an hour ish. Etomological note - Medvedev = Медведев = also the genetive plural of bear. According to Unreported World (avaliable on 4 On Demand) people were getting paid 400 roubles to vote in the Duma elctions earlier this year. But at least with the Medvedev-Putin combo, the Russian housewives will still have their favourite pin-up to look at on the news.
2. Prince Harry is still back from Afghanistan.
I have to admit, I much prefer this perpetual "Soldier Harry" headline to the previous "Harry Pot-head" "Harry is drunk in Mahiki again" media theme. It's quite a feel good story, which is always welcome. Although surprise surprise the Daily Mail have emphasised him complaining about the post and food, and the scepticism elsewhere is beginning to show. However, all in all, media coup. Well done.
3. It's 65 years since 173 people were crushed to death in Bethnal Green tube station.
4. People are still killing each other in Palestine.
5. And Sudan
6. Konrad Henlien = not a Trojan Horse for the Nazis.
7. Both Westenizers and Slavophiles were in opposition to Nicholas I.
8. When the people upstairs jump, my lights shake.
9. Tomorrow Pret is launching three new products, and delisting three old ones. These are wheat-free cheddar and pickle replacing wheat-free salmon and egg, blood orange juice replacing greatfruit juice, mango and lime replacing fairtrade pineapple.
10. Tomorrow it will rain.
Do I carry on putting it off or do I stop and think about it?
Thought could lead to action.
That's probably what I want.
Why am I even writing this here? It's a kind of half arsed series of thoughts, it's not eloquent, it's not enlightening for anyone's day. There's no point reading it, no point writing it. If the writing of the above helps me to think, surely this is kind of drivel that I should scribble and throw away. But, if I throw it away, what was the use in writing it, surely I could have just thought that one.
Writing is permanent. People can keep it forever. You can deny what you said, but not what you wrote.
I'm on approximately my thrid pint of lemon and ginger tea today. The tea bag implores me, "the art of happiness is to serve all." Really? Really? Is this true? Where did the tea bag get its authority from? According to the box, some Indian Yogi who once served the tea after his yoga classess. That's ever so reassuring. Some can take it and run with it, I think I'll purposely remove all the rest of the tags.
I don't need any more bad advice in my life.
(What exactly is that supposed to mean? Go, over-analyse.)
Why did he write these fortune-cookie-esque snippets of advice? Thought he was amazing? Knew he wasn't but thought he'd pretend? Or was amazing?
Maybe in this case I'll go for the first.
Mad? Bad? or God?
Is there ever another possibility?
It's such an accepted cliche.
Think outside the box.
I'm going swimming.
Another Sunday, another journey back to London.
5.20pm arrive back at the flat to find that there is a full-on rave, complete with smoke machine, glow sticks, flashing lights, neon skirts and DJ (still) going on in the basement flat next door. This is the same flat that twice in the last month has had it's door bashed down by the fire brigade in order to retrieve some people/bodies so the police can bundle them into ambulances.
5.40 - leave for church.
5.51 - arrive at church even though it takes 20 minutes to get there.
Have "church".
While at the Old Dairy witter on about bad "Christian music", and about housing.
9.15 ish - walk back home past the above mentioned basement flat. The rave is over, there remains a lone old fat man watching the TV.
9.16 - get back to the kitchen. Find there is no bread OR milk. Love the flatmates' logic (but my way is not the only way). Also find my bottle of unopened wine, open, and empty.
Shall I mention it? Shall I be generous?
9.40 - go to Tesco.
9.50 - home. Find milk in the flat, on the side next to the oven. In addition, find the Philidelphia on the hob (turned off). Not exactly where I would have stored those items.
But, as I am trying to learn,
My way is not the only way.
I thought that maybe it was time for a post.
I joined the gym today using the photo I cut out of my ULU card, only to discover that, as the gym is in the University of London Union, the membership card is in fact a ULU with 2 holes punched in it so you can use it in the lockers. Sigh.
So I swam. I don't know how many lengths I did but I was in the pool for 20 minutes (that's not very long really). There were less naked people than on Saturday. However the girl using the locker next to me came out of the gym, casually took off all her clothes, then headed for the showers in a very naked state. But then, isn't that to be expected when showering? I suppose yes.
In fact, maybe it's less embarassing to be naked than cowering under a towel trying to pull your knickers up without anyone seeing or falling over?
And more practical too?
But that doesn't explain showering naked in one of the non-cubicle showers when there are cubicles free.
Exhibitionists?
Or they don't mind being naked so they are leaving the cubicles for prudes like me?
I'm just not used to all this naked ness.
What's a prude anyway?
Over this past "festive season" Radio One dubbed and undubbed A Fairy Tale of New York.
Simon from Southampton called the dubbing "political correctness gone mad".
How many times has someone said this?
What does it mean?
What do they mean?
What does Simon mean?
Is Simon lacking the ability for reasoned thought, and the vocabularly to express himself as an individual?
Why do we quote him, when someone else hopefully had something better to say?
Is this one of those sentances that people 'just say', because someone has, it sounded half good the first time, and we'd rather, and are encouraged to hide behind someone else's soundbites than risk exposing ourselves by saying what we really think?
Why do we accept it when people hide behind cliches like this?
Why don't we question?
Why don't we probe?
If we don't think, and speak for ourselves, won't our vocabularies dwindle and abilities for thought die?
Is there anyone you know who needs to be less able to express themselves?
Why has it been almost "cool" and certainly the done thing not to?
