Thinking about secrets in the age of the internet or How twitter helped reveal the truth. It was alarming when I checked the guardian homepage and saw an story saying very little beyond they had been “prevented from identifying the MP who has asked the question, what the question is, which minister might answer it, or where the question is to be found.” Within an hour twitter users had identified the MP in question, the company, the sum-sucking Trafigura, and the report they were trying to bury: The injunction about reporting on questions asked in Parliament fell apart. As Bill Clinton once said ‘never pick a fight with people who buy ink by the barrel’. However I find it so worrying that not only worries me that people are looking at this Or have I just been reading too many dystopian novels…
For the last couple of weeks I have very slowly been working my way through Pandora’s Star by Peter F Hamilton. Part of the reason I’m so slow is because I’m juggling so many things at the moment and the only time I have to read is in the ten minutes before I fall into a dreamless slumber. The Boy rarely reads so when he recommends a book I feel obligated to give it a go but I have to admit I am less than gripped. It seems that the things that interest him: concepts, science, vast and sprawling world-building, I find less than scintillating. For example he adores SG-1 and thought Atlantis was a little weak. Whereas I found SG-1 boring and repititive with too little ongoing mythology and dull characters Unlike Atlantis in which Rodney quite frankly rocked.
Is it wrong that I find the fantastic Mr Fox very sexy. The Clooney appeals works whether he is furry or a silver fox geddit? Then again I had a big crush on the Beast. He gives her a library, so romantic!
The death of the blackberries. It seems like blackberries have been and gone and autumn has barely started.
Our flat like Mary Poppins is practically perfect in everyway. So even mentioning this makes me feel like a brat of the highest order but I hate our fridge. For the last couple of years my ire has been reserved for the washing machine aka the grand shrinker. It lurks waiting for me to feed it my nicest clothes before turning them the size of mini clothes. At first I thought it was my habit of only using one setting, but no it does it when the Boy master of the washing machine settings feeds my clothes to it too. But not when it’s his laundry. I am beginning to suspect that my washing machine is a misogynist. Or that because the Boys clothes made out of titanium, or whatever indestructable force Boys clothes are made of, resist being eaten. Anyway, the fridge. We have an inbuilt mini fridge and freezer side by side. But the fridge has aspirations it longs to be a freezer so at the top taking up valuable freezing space is a freezer. Unpacking the shopping requires long hours of tetris honed skills. If we turn the milk sideways like this and stack the cheese. Items that are rounded: potatoes, cauliflowers, goats cheese ruin the pattern. It makes it really hard to see and plan meals. For the last month or so, with colleague Sara I’ve been trying to cut down on food bills in a eat my larder challenge. The lentils are gone, but I have enough beans to last until Judgement Day
I’ve been dreaming of pieminister pies ever since Beth introduced me to them in a trip to Bristol. Amazing pastry goodness with succulent fillings. As if I needed anymore reasons to be jealous of Bristolians.
Also I’ve been writing my new WIP progress novel about a teen detective who only tells the truth, investigating the apparent suicide of her former best friend (phew) I’m: