Bleh

Ah, England. The sun's up, the sky's not blue yet but it'd like to be, I haven't gone to work yet because I'm on gentleman's hours and I'm a lazy arse. This is how mornings should be. Always assuming that they can't be summer ones when I'm on holiday. And a damned sight better than that dispiriting grey thing that was yesterday; what a day. Grey as a John Major lookalike convention, constant blattering rain, it drove the soul from everyone. A nice day for a stock market meltdown anyway. The news people say the FT's in a dive; the Dow Jones is plummeting and the Asian markets are following suit. So how are the Chinese going to capitalise on this? I don't know, but I'll bet the little bastards have a contingency. I've never been especially comfortable with market capitalism; it works I know, but I've never been able to think of it as more than the best of a bad job. Stuff this seriousness; today is a good day to take the Bigma down to Donna Nook and watch the jets do their thing. Regrettably, it's back to the fun factory to do that worky stuff, and then once that is done I can put off the food shop NO longer. Grub must be bought. Catgrub must be bought too. I cannot afford to continually be feeding the small guy the human consumption tuna. This foul year of our lord, 2008 must be grasped firmly and put into an entangled armlock.