Jeremy Clarkson is basically a prick, and SO ARE YOU.

Maureen mentioned Top Gear in the comments, so let's talk about Jeremy fucking Clarkson and his baffling popularity. As a jester, I admit, he has his moments. He can be relied on to spark controversy with a deliberately outrageous comment. But he seems to have been catapulted into the position of Arch Deacon of the BBC's vox populi. Why do people take him seriously, when he's clearly out to stir the pot? He should stick to his posh-boy racer antics and lay off the Mexicans. 

Gordon Ramsay is another media whore. Do you know he features in a television advert here for a well-known spectacles chain? He doesn't actually cook anymore, but is busy overseeing his global empire of acidic put-downs and pantomime villainry. 

Again, regarding the comments, I love all of them. I STILL can't reply because Blogger is not that iPhone friendly. Go fuck yourself, Google, I'm not going to capitulate to your whims and buy an Android, no matter how much you want me to. The rapid advancement of technology is obviously an achievement and a Good Thing, but the constant need to buy newer products feels Roman and decadent to me. Apple is the worst for this. Look at the furore over the new iPad - which doesn't, as yet, work in the UK. If you were an early adopter of the iPad, you're basically shit out of luck now. Apple have cornered the market on sustained customer capture and I DON'T LIKE IT. 

Let me bore you some more with my self-indulgent rambling (O HAI, I BELEEVE IT'S CALLED BLOGGING) and discuss J's mum's upcoming birthday. I am mediocre at buying gifts for people - I think it's a knack. For those I know very well, I can usually pick out something suitable, but I'm not one of those talented sorts who can please all the people, all the time. And J's mother is particularly tricky because she doesn't have very many specific interests. I don't mean that in a nasty way, it's just that Irish country women of a certain age probably spent their young womanhood raising children on their own, because all the men went to England for work (this is still happening today), and working the farm and NOT toying about half-heartedly with expensive hobbies like YOURS TRULY. 

I'm ill today, as it happens - so desperately ill that J has had to stay home from work. I'm laid out on the sofa with Coke Zero and Rich Tea biscuits. I spent all night shivering with fever and rushing to the bathroom for explosive, backsplash vomiting. There was no way Id've been fit to tend to the baby all day, so J had stepped into the fore to help. Time off is such a double-edged sword for us. J is self-employed so no work = no pay. He's a good nurse though - he's faithfully presented me with cups of tea and continually fluffs my pillows to stop them going all "mashed potato-y".  This is obnoxious couple in-speak, a phrase we coined some time ago to describe when pillow stuffing breaks up inside the pillow and gets a bit lumpy. Time to buy new pillows, I hear you cry. Next time, I'm springing for the expensive Norwegian 100% goose down. 

If you're still reading my blog, thank you. I know it can be a bit humdrum, but I'm trying to write (nearly) every day. Once I get really into the swing of things, the post quality ought to improve.