July 2011

[Sweder]

The fact that I'm just now opening a thread for this month tells you all you need to know about the state of my running at the moment. There are tales to tell but I've no will write them just now. My writing mojo is deeper in the weeds than my yen to run, which is saying something.

Mitigating circumstances include two weeks in muggy Orlando where Children with Diabetes Friends for Life 2011 turned out rather well. There's a photo of me almost running in the report - in fact there are a few pictures of me in there. Most maybe tough to pick out, so good luck.

Here's one for the Grapeheads amongst us. I'm reliably informed that these wines went for a pricely sum at the CWD Golf auction (I missed out as the tournament clashes with exhibit hall set-up). The bottles are signed by the winemaker and are, according to generous donator and wine guru Jeff Hitchcock, amongst the 'best I've ever tasted'.



Off to Dubai at the weekend to soak up even more heat and humidity. I may be forced to taking to the dreaded treadie, something regular visitors will know is not something I relish. However feeble and stumbling the first steps towards Point 2 Pinnacle are being - and must be - taken. I've a mountain to climb.

[Sweder]

I'm trying to get out for a blast through the hills every morning this week. So far so good, I'm two for two. Nothing terribly noteworthy in terms of distance, but a run is a run is a slow sweaty plod through tall damp grass.

I've just returned from sitting through HP 7.2. No, not an unnecessary rebranding of the best sausage sandwich condiment for the digital age but the much heralded final chapter in JK Rowling's meisterwerk (not to mention multi-millionaire maker) Harry Potter. How was it? Hmm ... what's the word I'm looking for ... ah yes, there it is, skulking under the desk like a chastened elf; Underwhelmed. Sorry, I'm just not that wild about Harry.

Of far more interest has been the 'Hackgate' saga with comings and going at the House of Commons to make Hogwarts look like a rest home in financial crisis. The appearance of the long-lost Phantom Phlan Phlinger (Tiswas TM) proved a welcome distraction from James Murdoch's droning imitation of Data, the emotionless automaton from Star Trek: The Next Generation. I was worried that James's mask might slip to reveal a mess of old wires and rather dim, blinking lights.

Old Man Murdoch appeared at times as a doped-up shambling fool, dazed and confused with alarmingly long 'dramatic' pauses that suggested a mild concussion via the notoriously low-ceilinged HOC men's room. It was a bravura performance that surely fooled no-one. His was a curious case of Benjamin Button; initially frail and apparently infirm, by his own admission incredibly 'humble', yet rallying to finish strongly, banging the table to drive home his message as if pounding blunt nails into exceedingly dense wood.

The post-match airwaves were choked with schadenfreude as political commentators saught to settle old scores, yet to those of us looking on this was little more than a charade. It's not the generally mealy-mouthed MPs who will call the Master of Puppets to account. I see Murdoch gliding relatively unscathed through a protracted parliamentary investigation. No, it's the long, sharp knives of the News International shareholders that Old Rupe should fear. Income Tax evasion did for Al Capone and corporate governance may yet cut the wily antipodean's strings.

The lack of interest shown by another of our usualy vitriolic national rags, the Daily Mail is intriguing. Their leader writers have steered well clear of all this, much in the way a driver might avoid stopping at the scene of a bad accident for fear the police might discover the body they're carrying in the boot. Expect the met's net to widen significantly in the months ahead. Meanwhile let all UK tax payers rejoice as we foot the bill for an endless procession of committees and enquiries just as we did in '03 and '07. Plus ca change.

I cannot help but wonder what dear old Hunter S. Thompson would have made of it all. He would certainly have enjoyed the potential fall of an intercontinental media mogul but I also suspect he may have displayed a grudging admiration for some of Rupert's less orthadox quirks. HST certainly wasn't above journalistic skullduggery in the pursuit of a good story. I, along with none other than the great Danny Baker it seems, miss the old bastard terribly.

Enough rambling. I leave you with this utter gem from modern day poet and psychotic madrigal genius, Bill Bailey. Good, night, and don't let the telephone bugs bite.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Ha! Good old Bill Bailey, a fabbo comedian I've actually met (once, while he was severely jet lagged ... I don't think I made an impression) but have never seen live, much to my regret. Hopefully next time he's down this way.

I like the comparison of Murdoch to Al Capone ... I put them much in the same category myself and agree with your assessment: he will cruise through the proceedings largely unscathed. Which is a pity, but hardly surprising.

I've only seen one HP movie and half-read one of the books and was similarly underwhlemed. Largely because the characters (all of them in my humble) are so ... wet.

But on to important stuff. Great to see you are back into running mode. There is indeed the small matter of a mountain to run up in November and a modicum of training would make the task just a little easier. Hop into it! If nothing else it will make the beer taste better.

On on!