Well, Viva Italia, I suppose....

Following on from tonight's (last night's to be more accurate) defeat of Germany by the Italians in the World Cup semi final, there was a great deal of fuss and commotion out on the High Road between about 9.45 and 10.30.

Lots of happy shouting and cars driving by, horns a-tooting. Some of this is no doubt due to the exuberance of the Great Unwashed taking a keen delight in the defeat of Germany. Myself, other than feeling frustration at their uncanny ability to get past us in penalty shoot-outs but rarely open play (and let's face it, the England side in any of its incarnations must take a fair portion of the blame for cracking at the vital moment, even when playing well), have never really begrudged them their footballing success, though by preference (after England) I have a soft spot for the Brazilians.

Anyway. Not all the noise, which we enjoyed to the full as all the windows were open in a vain attempt to disperse this infernal heat, could be put down to excited chavdom.

It hasn't occurred to me before, but there must be a sizeable Italian community here in Whetstone. Either that or one very excited Italian.

There is a very good Italian restaurant up the road. I wonder if they will have the final on in there on Sunday, and whether they will be feeling generous enough to serve extra-generous portions...?

That said, it's not cheap, so I will probably instead make something with pasta and eat it at home with a nice bottle of Italian red. I haven't made a humongous spag-bol for ages. Maybe now's the time.

In the meantime, it's all horribly hot and all to the point where health alerts are being issued. I am going to melt on the bed now and hope to sleep. With luck we will have a storm.

Bet we don't.

Well, Viva Italia, I suppose....

Following on from tonight's (last night's to be more accurate) defeat of Germany by the Italians in the World Cup semi final, there was a great deal of fuss and commotion out on the High Road between about 9.45 and 10.30.

Lots of happy shouting and cars driving by, horns a-tooting. Some of this is no doubt due to the exuberance of the Great Unwashed taking a keen delight in the defeat of Germany. Myself, other than feeling frustration at their uncanny ability to get past us in penalty shoot-outs but rarely open play (and let's face it, the England side in any of its incarnations must take a fair portion of the blame for cracking at the vital moment, even when playing well), have never really begrudged them their footballing success, though by preference (after England) I have a soft spot for the Brazilians.

Anyway. Not all the noise, which we enjoyed to the full as all the windows were open in a vain attempt to disperse this infernal heat, could be put down to excited chavdom.

It hasn't occurred to me before, but there must be a sizeable Italian community here in Whetstone. Either that or one very excited Italian.

There is a very good Italian restaurant up the road. I wonder if they will have the final on in there on Sunday, and whether they will be feeling generous enough to serve extra-generous portions...?

That said, it's not cheap, so I will probably instead make something with pasta and eat it at home with a nice bottle of Italian red. I haven't made a humongous spag-bol for ages. Maybe now's the time.

In the meantime, it's all horribly hot and all to the point where health alerts are being issued. I am going to melt on the bed now and hope to sleep. With luck we will have a storm.

Bet we don't.

Bleh

This morning my bones feel like lead. I think I slept well enough; I certainly don't recall waking up at odd intervals as I sometimes do, but I don't feel rested. Of course, with the heat and all I didn't even attempt to sleep until around 2am.

Today the weather is cooler and greyer and there was a light drizzle when I exited the tube station at Victoria. It is still warm and the additional moisture will just push the humidity up to the point where gills will feel like a fashion necessity.

To add to my joy, I find that a west country MP of the Lib Dim persuasion has asked for details of the average weekly rent for every local authority in England since 1990.

Twat.

Of what possible use can that be to anybody?

Today will not be a good work day.

Bleh

This morning my bones feel like lead. I think I slept well enough; I certainly don't recall waking up at odd intervals as I sometimes do, but I don't feel rested. Of course, with the heat and all I didn't even attempt to sleep until around 2am.

Today the weather is cooler and greyer and there was a light drizzle when I exited the tube station at Victoria. It is still warm and the additional moisture will just push the humidity up to the point where gills will feel like a fashion necessity.

To add to my joy, I find that a west country MP of the Lib Dim persuasion has asked for details of the average weekly rent for every local authority in England since 1990.

Twat.

Of what possible use can that be to anybody?

Today will not be a good work day.

More Bleh

Well the idiot mouth breather from the West Country can make do with figures going back to 1995. I haven't found them yet, but I have spent the entire morning (less ciggie break) working out where to get the information from. It's all comparatively easy now.

I hope.

I nipped out to buy sarnies at lunchtime as usual. What with the sudden damp weather, but warm temperatures, it feels like the inside of an airing cupboard outside right now. And of course it started raining heavily, too. None of this seems to be affecting the temperature in the slightest, though the humidity is now something special. I was wrong this morning; that wasn't gill-growing weather, this is: a touch more tropical than before.

Anyone lost a monsoon? I think we have one here. It's free to the first person to arrange their own transport.

More Bleh

Well the idiot mouth breather from the West Country can make do with figures going back to 1995. I haven't found them yet, but I have spent the entire morning (less ciggie break) working out where to get the information from. It's all comparatively easy now.

I hope.

I nipped out to buy sarnies at lunchtime as usual. What with the sudden damp weather, but warm temperatures, it feels like the inside of an airing cupboard outside right now. And of course it started raining heavily, too. None of this seems to be affecting the temperature in the slightest, though the humidity is now something special. I was wrong this morning; that wasn't gill-growing weather, this is: a touch more tropical than before.

Anyone lost a monsoon? I think we have one here. It's free to the first person to arrange their own transport.

(no subject)

Tired, tired, tired.

Just to complete my day, the Northern Line was as screwed as I've ever known it due to a power failure at Colliers Wood. Why they couldn't operate the service stopping short of there, given it's right down the end of the line is beyond me. I left the office at 18.20 and was at Euston by 18.45. I was still at Euston at 19.30, and finally left Camden Town about 19.50.

Quite why they feel the need to route dozens of half-empty trains to Edgeware whilst closing access to overcrowded High Barnet platforms is beyond me.

The perfect end to the perfect day.

Sunday night it is the Azzurri against Les Bleus in the World Cup Final. At the risk of damning them, I fancy the Italians to shade the French, but what do I know?

God, I'm tired.

(no subject)

Tired, tired, tired.

Just to complete my day, the Northern Line was as screwed as I've ever known it due to a power failure at Colliers Wood. Why they couldn't operate the service stopping short of there, given it's right down the end of the line is beyond me. I left the office at 18.20 and was at Euston by 18.45. I was still at Euston at 19.30, and finally left Camden Town about 19.50.

Quite why they feel the need to route dozens of half-empty trains to Edgeware whilst closing access to overcrowded High Barnet platforms is beyond me.

The perfect end to the perfect day.

Sunday night it is the Azzurri against Les Bleus in the World Cup Final. At the risk of damning them, I fancy the Italians to shade the French, but what do I know?

God, I'm tired.