We watched the Constant Gardener last Tuesday night, which Paul told me was called the Uphill Gardener so really didn’t want to watch it. For those who haven’t seen it, I really would recommend giving it a go, I’m not going to bother explaining the plot (you can read about it on imdb if you’re really that interested) but suffice to say its set in Africa, and shows in no uncertain terms the sometimes brutal existence that people live.
Paul: You have a reprieve from me writing about last night’s debacle to join in the four things geekary… I’ve been tagged by Lloydy so it would seam I have to do the same, kind of like a blog chain letter, but without the threat of spiritual violence. Hang on your collective asses cos here we go…
Ooo, I love tea me. So I thought after the stir caused by the last post I’d write about something else that’s quite close to my heart. Yesterday lunchtime I had a wonder over the local supermarket, my mission was clear: To get some new tea bags to replace the 3 year old bumper pack of “20 million bags” we have lying around in the work kitchen.
Being a Walsall boy by birth, I’m very much inclined to do put-down my home town. Walsall admittedly could be accurately described as a shit hole, having been done down by such literacy geniuses as chav towns and even Google. But I would like to offer a different point of view.
It’s ten to one on Saturday morning, and I’ve just spent a pleasant hour being arrested for drink driving, getting fingerprint ink all over my coat and blowing into this big machine all to find out that I’m so far under the drink drive limit it barely registered on the machine.
Isn’t it funny how you meet new people? Let’s say for example that you commented on someones Flickr photos, and six months later you fly out to Spain to visit them. Well, funnily enough (cue sincere laughter) that’s exactly what happened to me.
Never let it be said that life in the country is boring, danger lurks around every corner. There I was taking a gentle stroll, just chilling out at lunchtime, when I “herd” it. A sound which sent a chill up my spine. The sound of a thousand bovine hooves thundering along in the field next to the path on which I was walking. My view was obscured by a large bush, but every now and again I caught a flash of black and white. As I reached the end of the lane, a gate to my left was all that separated to from the now huge throng of cows amassing before me.