Ten cents worth of mixed lollies

I was in Munich on the night of the World Cup final, and the buzz was fantastic. And while everyone has the right to be pleased and proud when their national team wins a big event, I think Germany of all countries should be a little careful with their hyperbole.  Newspaper declarations that Germany is now “Weltmeister”are a little too reminiscent of a time when Germany actually tried to be “Weltmeister”.  I have seen no references to “The Boys From Brazil” in the glorious toasting of Team Deutschland, which is for the best, it may be an allusion too far.


My youngest walked in on two teenagers watching “Narnia” the other day.  She watched for a few moments, then declared at the sight of Aslan, “I hope this doesn’t give any children the idea that they can just walk up to lions and pat them and talk to them. They’ll get their heads ripped off”.  C.S. Lewis was extremely irresponsible.


Though we all know that all internet rumours are true, apparently the story that Steven Moffat maybe involved in an upcoming Star Wars movie may not be true after all. Who knows?  But if it isn’t, will we be forever denied the Star Wars episode where Luke and Hans meet a giant space whale cruelly enslaved while trying to save English children? (And why should Star Wars fans be denied a horror that Doctor Who watchers had to endure?) They could do a cross-over with Star Trek IV, and someone could explain to me how whale song travels into space …


Walked through a wooded park in Augsburg this evening with two of my children. The sun had set, and we were enjoying the effects of the European twilight – with light behind us we could walk towards our last sighting of the sun as though walking into darkness; and then we could emerge from the gloom of the trees to a clearing filled with beautiful evening liquid light. Sitting very, very still on a bench hidden amongst trees, a woman whose features we could not make out.  Not very far in the distance, a pack of wolves howled, though of course it must have been dogs.  We stared at each other until I broke our silence with “bullshit”. Suddenly, I understood the Gothic.


Reading:  The Kills, by Richard House.  Watching: True Detectives. Humming: Das Model, by Kraftwerk.


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