For anyone who’s an infrequent user of Blogger – be warned, security at Pyra was compromised recently and you should change your server log-in passwords and Blogger user names. You can check out the “sorry” message here and read up about what happened here. [Metafilter discussion about the problems here.]
London is a place a hundred-thousand miles away from here, where all the evils of the world live, and they don’t know where I am at the moment, and they can’t contact me by phone because it’s turned off and has been for days, and they could e-mail me, but I’d probably not pick it up. The world outside Norfolk can go fuck itself for one week. I’m not in the slightest bit interested in what is happening out there.
Last time Jason asked me to do something, he told me I must do what he told me because “I AM THE KOTTKE”. I laughed indulgently, as you would. Poor chap’s losing it!
I woke up this morning and it was snowing. And when we went shopping in Norwich, it was snowing. I feel so much more relaxed in Norfolk than I do in London. And weirdly, I feel much in control of my life, and therefore considerably more adult and responsible. To undercut this sensation, I watched Lord of the Rings with my little brother, and bought some more pointless things to give to people for Christmas.
I was on the train last night from Liverpool Street to Norwich, and I was sitting opposite this really cute guy. And at the end of the trip I offered him and the other passengers around me the Opal Fruits (sorry Starburst) that I had left over, and he took them, and unlike last time when I did something like this he didn’t smile and reveal a massive gap between two of his teeth or have a grating maniac voice – which made the separation all the more poignant for me.
Hey look! At work I went and designed a site for this guy who works at Heat magazine. Presenting Morning After TV – built and programmed by my glamourous assistant (I’m going to get a smack) Cal Henderson!
If you get bored of dismal re-run Christmas television and Only Fools And Horses TV Specials, then you should go check out the highlights of iamcal.com – a repository of good weblogging content. [Note for the punter who e-mailed me: “repository” does not mean something you insert anally in order to alleviate disease. That word is suppository.]
I can’t think of a single thing to say.
Well, tomorrow I depart fair London for cold Norfolk, where I plan to spend a week with my family. This will be the longest I have spent with them for about three or four years, so it may end in complete disaster, acrimony and arguments. I have to confess I’m slightly nervous. Still, I’m looking forward to seeing my little brother (now approaching six feet tall aged sixteen) and going to see Lord of the Rings with him. If you wish to buy me a Christmas present, you can – but of course Secret Santa has taken the pressure off you a bit, so don’t feel obliged in the slightest.
On the shock of discovering a work-ethic, and the horror of realising that this is why you’ve never made any money: When payment seems in excess of workload, typically I have increased workload to compensate rather than saying “Thank you very much”. I don’t honestly know what’s wrong with me…