Genius!
This has clearly been doing the rounds, but for anyone who hasn't seen it - this is XLab's entry on the perfect way to fold a t shirt.
It's unbelieveable. And it really works.
I Don’t Think So
Following on from the announcement of the Olympic shortlist for 2012 on Tuesday, yesterday's Metro ran a quick piece on the pros and cons of the remaining candidate cities.
While acknowledging that one of London's shortcomings is that 'everything costs a fortune', it's efforts to find things wrong with the other cities veer occasionally into the entirely surreal.
I give you: New York, where "...a beer costs the earth as does a meal."
I've never heard such rubbish in my life.
Mr Carline
Chris has 'rebranded' his site after vaguely mumbling about it for ages. It's looking all cool in blue and grey, and he's no longer 'Post Retro' - now he's Out of Sorts.
Note to self - change link text on right.
24 Degrees
That's what the forecast says the maximum temperature in London is going to be tomorrow.
How sweaty am I going to be?
Non-Celeb Spotting
So after a few recent close encounters with minor celebs of one kind of another (see postings passim), the bubble had to burst sooner or later.
Tonight was the night - walking up the road from the office, the dull Scots one who left the Big Brother house voluntarily a couple of years ago cycled past.
Inconsistent, Moi?
I know I've occasionally suggested a degree of ambivalence over the subject of gay marriage, based more on my general cynicism than anything;
You Know You’re A Sweaty Bastard….
....when you skate for an hour and then realise that the change of clothing in your rucksack is wet, becuase the sweat from your back has made it through your t shirt and the fabric of the rucksack itself.
You also know you're a sweaty bastard when the first thing you do on arriving at the friend's you're going to for supper is ask to use their shower.
Still Alive
I am. I have a feeling I'll be a bit achey (but not breaky) tomorrow, but just at the moment I feel quite exhilarated at having done some exercise. I know tennis season looms, so I'll be getting back into that soon enough, but today was useful.
I own up to the fact that I was unutterably rubbish when it came to the organised skate (I reckon it was the dodgy road surface that did for me), but I got back in the saddle and had another crack back at the park and did okay.
It's a thing I need to build up for, clearly, but I certainly want to give it a try.
In factm if tennis comes back on Sunday mornings as it did last year, work permitting I could be playing tennis in the mornings and skating in the afternoons.
And by the way - I didn't fall over.
Last Will
Just a quick note to say that if I die in the next six hours I'd like all my worldly belongings to be sold off and the income to be used to keep Dillon in the manner to which she's become accustomed.
Why might I expire? Because for the first time in about seven years I'm going skating this afternoon. Not on ice, on eight wheels.
Why do I let Dave talk me into these things?
Going Postal
Wouldn't you think, given all the bad press that the Royal Mail has received recently that they'd be making at least a token effort towards accuracy and service?
Six items crashed onto my mat this morning, and four of them were for other flats in the block. And when I got home last night the only thing that had been delivered was actually for someone in another block altogether.
Bonkers.