If you haven't already, do yourself a havour and watch those last 25 minutes again. I did, the next day, and what was appalling at the time was actually stupendous. Sure, we never looked like scoring and we probably kicked a bit much ball away, but neither did the French really. They never get past our 10 metre line; Donald kicked it into the corners nicely at times; the tackling was solid. The ABs didn't win despite the last 25, but because of it. The last 5 especially, where we just held on to the ball. Great stuff.
But the reading involved, particularly of historical theorists - I felt like history had sucked my brain out and replaced it with a robotic reading, note-taking, memorising and regurgitating machine. It needed healing and I spent a couple of years re-reading pulpy fiction
snap! much as I really
enjoyed English honours, I spent most of the next year reading James Ellroy books. Honours was a hard enough year that the thought of going back to university made me feel ill for years. Have finally ventured back, albeit not to carry on, but just to dabble in a few language courses.
re-reading 'Dominion' - not that I ever read it particularly closely back at University - it seems not so much has changed in modern NZ. Some of the best bits, for those who didn't click the link to it:
in the countryside the land is
the space between the barbed-wire fences,
mortgaged in bitterness, measured in sweated butterfat.
the swollen river’s rush; or dries
to a thin trickle, lies
in flat pools where swarms of flies
clouding the stagnant brim
breed from thick water, clustered slime.
Gross greed, mated with fear,
that feeds on the bread
of children, buying reprieve
with philanthropic pence, making profession
The press: slow dripping of water on mud;
thought’s daily bagwash, ironing out opinion,
scarifying the edges of ideas.
And the hirelings; caught young;
the bough bent and twisted
to the shape of evil; tending the oaf
who by accident of birth has property
in the public conscience, a ‘moulder of opinion’
And the proletarian animal,
a crucified ape, preached by Darwinian bishops,
guarded by traitorous pens, handed the vinegar
of a ‘belief in the essential goodness of human nature.’
The army of the unliving, the cells of the cancer:
small sleek men rubbing their hands in vestibules,
dabblers in expertise, licensed to experiment
on the vile body of the State; promoters of companies;
efficiency experts (unearned excrement
of older lands, oranges sucked dry)...
councillors and legislators,
toads in plush;
octogenarians who have forgotten
the heat of their youth, ... obtruding
the rancour of a swollen prostate,
upon the affairs of springtime
The living saddled with debt. A load of debt for the foetus.
A load laid by for the moment of delight
hidden in the future, yet to be made flesh,
trapped in the net of statistical laws, caught
in the calculations of the actuaries.
And over all the hand of the usurer,
bland angel of darkness,
mild and triumphant and much looked up to.
aren't these stamps part of how japanese can get away with committing pension fraud too? pensions can be authorised using the stamp, rather than a signature being needed....or something. i'm a bit hazy on the details. my wife told me the story after reading it in saturday's dompost, but i can't find a version online that actually mentions the roles of the inkan stamps,
though this one does outline the general problem.
Yeah, the rather large crowd look everyone by surprise.
I thought as much. And I should say in that vein well done to whoever decided to delay the start. Other sports would have just ploughed on and left people disappointed. Next time we'll buy tickets online - was only a non-functioning printer that meant I didn't this time.
Yes, we went along and had a great time. My little girl wants to go again and this time get dressed up for it. She wavered throughout the bout as to who she was supporting (tended to be whoever was on a, erm, roll). She even posted on it this morning on her rather new blog.....
And probably take along our own food as well I suspect - the one thing which let the event down was the service (and maybe the rather extended halftime but i suspect that was only a problem for the young ones in attendance). In a line only 8 deep, it took almost 15 minutes to get served.
No doubt we'll see some pictures from Jed or Mike soon?
the website says "parental guidance is advised". My daughter is 7 and wants to go. is 7 too young? she quite happily has sat near the yellow fever zone at the phoenix since she was 4.
sorry if that's a dumb question....
The other element of the Cahill send-off is that by that stage of the game it was really obvious the ref was card happy. The decision was hardly out of keeping with what has gone before (Özil's was probably justified though the guy did take a swipe at his legs before he went down in a heap). So Cahill should have probably adapted his play to suit. Secondly, his coach had already bawled him out after the friendly with New Zealand in Melbourne for being reckless, specifically warning him that challenges like that would result in send-offs in the Cup. And so it proved. No sympathy here.
Since Germany are in action again in a few hours, here's something I have shamelessly stolen from a recent Guardian Joy of Six - the 1994 German World Cup song, featuring 'simulator' in chief Juergen Klinsmann.
other songs can be seen here:
Cemeteries are wonderful! I used to walk through one on my way to school in Dunedin (from Opoho to Logan Park) and that probably started me off. They can be interesting places to visit when you're travelling as well. Gives you an insight into the types of people who've lived in the area and their culture. Have seen good ones in places as separate as Melbourne (out towards Carlton), London (Highgate predictably), Paris (had to see Simone de Beauvoir's grave), Budapest, a world war I cemetery in Slovenia, this tiny one in a tiny village called Dorfgastein in Austria, and, erm Taumarunui....You can usually get a bit of peace and quiet there too, which is a bonus. Apart from student days and trips to the Mt Street cemetery which is on campus, haven't spent any time in the Wellington ones, despite living here for far too long. Seeing the priest impaled on a spike in Karori cemetery in Braindead was as close as i got.
With this new season of Lost my partner and I have declined downloading the latest episode and are watching it the "old" way. It's an interesting experience, having to be somewhere with a TV at a certain time on a certain day.
That IS old skool! Is there a particular type of advertiser who buys slots during Lost Hadyn? Not the flight centre I'd imagine, given the premise.
Surely the advantage of our modern world is that you can get up at 7am, ignore the outside world for about two hours, and watch it delayed having recorded it off the internet (or whatever).
Well yes, there is that of course, and often that's the best tactic specially when you have things to do (like work) the next day. But given that a lot of english and european football is timed for their evenings anyway, it often isn't necessary, as I can get up at the very civilized time of 6.30 and fix toast and coffee and be ready for a 6.45am kickoff. dress and get the kid's school lunch ready at halftime, jump on the bicycle and down the hill to work at full time. only a problem when it goes to extra time and pens....which fortunately last year's champs league final did not, what with barcelona all over united (yay yay and yay again). ABU.
the other problem with recording things is it is just too tempting to fast forward. sitting there bleary eyed at about 3am watching Contador wait and wait and wait to attack PhArmstrong and then eventually wipe the floor him in last year's tdf wouldn't have been half so exciting if i'd just fastforwarded through to where the action began in the last 3 kms.