Still here.
Not blogging.
For much of yesterday, the Mac was being put through one of its binannual major maintenance routines.
And I've had other stuff to write.
That said, Eliza might still need cheering up. Not just yesterday's -- and every day's? --office scapegoat, she was feeling the 'Pudge' (Fembat).
So was I, despite a two-day fast.
Now the Condition is largely gone, I have to watch my waistline again. Took myself off to Aquaboulevard, the Parisian attempt at a big swimming pool cum theme park. It's quite appalling for crowds in July and worse in August because the hottest month is the one most city swimming pools close down -- we have such wise authorities here!. But Aquaboulevard at least offers jacuzzis for its exorbitant entry price, along with toboggans so twisted you can almost kill yourself in them. You can even simply swim!
However, I would have preferred company. She (the one I'm not blogging about any more) didn't come. She didn't know I was going and neither did I until I was there, but that's no excuse.
As for the Kid (Belcatja, Fr.), she had a better reason. On Monday, she sought admission to the lycée (high school) she was really hoping to be allowed into in Versailles, hard work but arts and literature rather than the sciences she considered a threat. She was sent away for lack, almost needless to say, of a piece of paper.
On Tuesday, she went back. She was sent away because her mum had forgotten to sign a different piece of paper.
On Wednesday, she was told entries were only being considered before 10 o'clock in the morning. But she was there by that unpardonable hour -- unforgiveable when you're a "let me go back to sleep" 15-year-old and it's school vacation (that, by the way, is one of my latest little concessions to Americans, apart from my heart silence. I will say "vacation" when I mean "holiday". Sometimes.)
Today the Kid told me, when I asked what she was doing out there rather than here, that she made it. She has got a place in the school of her dreams. Or her nightmares. Depending, 'cos they work them damned hard in France. Anyway, I'm over the moon. Which is fortunately not quite full tonight (I also wanted to give somebody else this month's "white rabbits", but Marianne got there first, being the first person of the opposite sex to speak to me today. This also means, I suppose, that she gets most of the special extra good luck that comes with it being the start of the second half of 2004).
Coincidentally (but for reasons I won't go into), Kathryn's given birth to another haiku. 'A Mindful Life' often comes up with surprises. Check out the picture she has used to illustrate it; she's about in season as I am.
As for a friend in Brazil, he's there. In Brazil I mean, no longer touring Albion, Land of Hope and Glory my birth. Only to inform us, a couple of days ago, that "traveling brings you two great joys: once when leaving, and once when coming back" (Solipsism Gradient). Virtually nothing about the bit in between. Yes, well, Rainer. I know I've not been following the news of late, but has England really got as bad as all that? If so, please publish the gruesome photographic evidence.
Tony asked me today whether Lee was still there. Living a couple of stairways above his head is what he meant. When I said, "Yes, as far as I know," he replied, with all the logic of your average US president, "Well, I've finally noticed that her e-mail address is Odessa Street." Which, as hardened sufferers will know, is where they both live...
Except, Tony, as the above link will inform you, Lee was last heard of "stuck" in Laos. Being "lame", she says, another of those American faux amis (false friend words) we Brits think we understand but don't once they've decided to reinvent them. A bit like their current commander-in-chief, whom heaven may yet have decided is a very lame duck indeed now, with luck. He decided to reinvent the world, and just look what's happening to him...
Sorry, was that gratuitous? Like a lot of the violence of the past couple of years?
One can but gloat hope...
10:45:13 PM link 
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