Home Again

The first thing I noticed when I walked through our front door was how cool our house is. My mother keeps her heating on all the year round.

We had a pile of mail awaiting us- including notification of a fine for a minor traffic offence we committed while driving through London a month ago.

We left the rabbits in Kent. Alana- my mother's interim carer- says she loves animals.

The birds have deserted our backyard. I put food out for them this morning. I guess they'll wake up to us being back about the time we're ready to leave again.

Moors Murderer

We used to know a woman who worked at Ashworth House- where Britain bangs up its psycho criminals. She said you knew you'd become institutionalized when you found yourself thinking of Ian Brady as a pretty normal sort of a bloke.

Judging from what's being reported of his ramblings, Brady seems to think of himself as some sort of a Nietzschean super-hero. The media play along with this by giving him headlines every time he sticks his nose (with a tube up it) into the outside world- as he's doing now with his appeal to be classified as un-mad; I do wish they wouldn't. 

Yes, I Have Been Watching Wimbledon

I love a good upset and this has been the year for them. It's only the third day of the tournament and Nadal has gone, Federer has gone, Sharapova has gone- all of them defeated by nobodies. Perhaps the best match of the day- at least the most entertaining- was Leighton Hewitt's defeat by Dustin Brown- a bruiser put away by a dancer.  In the BBC commentary box John McEnroe was bouncing up and down with excitement at the return of serve and volley.