Granola square

An inspired addition to Marks & Spencer's granola square—although, for me, it does change the spirit of the thing.

Pigeon

Here is my picture of a pigeon.

You might notice the Olympic equestrian arena in the background, which, incidentally, has been lined-up perfectly.

Brazenly functionless things ...

'If the Tower of London ravens are lost or fly away, the Crown will fall and Britain with it.'

So goes the saying. Lucky freaking birds.

Six ravens (plus one in reserve) are 'maintained' within the Tower walls. Such is the absurdly extravagant diet they enjoy that they can't help looking better than any ravens you've seen before. Their menu reads something like this: fresh apples and grapes; liver, lamb, beef and chicken; blood-soaked biscuits; boiled eggs; cod liver oil capsules in the winter and a cheeseboard after dinner. 

When is dinner? you ask. 

When is it not dinner? quoth the Raven.

Of course, this diet pays dividends. Whereas wild ravens tend to live an average of 10 to 15 years, the Tower ravens go for 40-plus.

And so, the Tower ravens make it onto my list of Brazenly Functionless Things Living Wildly Fortunate Lives. As it stands, the list consists mainly of ravens. Fortunately, a handful of religious artefacts also made the list, otherwise I'd have been forced to call it my list of Enviable Ravens. 

Kids can be so cruel

This has never happened to me before.

I was travelling home on the tube this evening when a mother and her little boy boarded and sat opposite me. At first the little boy sat on his mother's lap, but when the person next to me got off the train he ran over and took the seat.

He looked pointedly at me for a few seconds, but as I was reading, I had an easy way to act ignorant. Becoming bored of this, he launched into a chatter-offensive with his mother: how far were they from their stop? would she tell him when they got there? etc.

Then, a few minutes later, he squeezed himself against the wall, making as much space between us as he could. He patted the resulting sliver of seat encouragingly, beckoning his mother to come and sit between us.

She declined.

I motioned that I could switch seats with her but she smilingly declined that offer also. I think it had been a long day.

A minute passed and the person next to the mother got off the train. The little boy ran back and squished next to her. Events now took a turn for the worse:

Boy — Mum, you know that lady over there, well …

Mother — *Shhh* [hushed, reprimanding tones]

Boy — Well he looks like a lady and …

Mother — [extended hushed, reprimanding tones]


Kids can be so cruel.

The funny thing is this: the hairdresser phoned me at lunch today to tell me that this evening's appointment would have to be cancelled. Apparently, the 'stylist' I had booked did not cut gents' hair.

Sounds like I could have got away it.

From the window