Judge Huw Daniel chucked a juror out of court the other day for wearing an FCUK T-shirt. Hooray! About time, too. I could understand the popularity of French Connection’s advertising campaign when it first started years ago & for about 30 seconds it seeemed cheeky and fresh. Nowadays it is stale, pathetic, puerile and irritating enough to be offensive: I have no desire to see the letters FCUK on ugly people’s chests as I go about my daily business, nor to have to see the word on buses and advertisement hoardings. People who wear FCUK T-shirts are the kind of people who like to think of themselves as a little bit alternative, a little bit rock’n’roll ? we are talking middle-aged man, really, with a bald patch and, probably, a keen interest in female mud wrestlers. We are talking WNAKERS, aren’t we; isn’t it time French Connection came up with a new campaign?

As per usual I could happily have quoted all of India Knight’s weekly column, but I have restrained myself and will make do with that paragraph.

FCUK. Yeah. It was funny the first time I saw it. It was less funny the second time. Now we’re up to 1,573,343 times (rough estimate), and the joke is wearing a bit thin.

Voice in my head: EMINEM (although I don’t suppose it is, really. Who does sing the chorus?) – Sing for the Moment

Inspired by my tulips, I went looking for a Benny Anderson poem which I thought I’d copied to my “Commonplace Book“. It turned out I hadn’t. However, I found some other poems that really deserve a bit of attention, and so, inspired by that I have created a Commonplace Book, linked also from the Bookshelf (naturally). Just now the majority of the entries are in the various Scandinavian languages, but I’ll be adding to it pretty frequently.

I thought I’d use Movable Type for this as well, I’m increasingly impressed with the flexibility – just look at that wonderful index page! Sorted by category (well, poet) and all! I LOVE THIS TOOL. I thought about turning the comment functionality off, however, I decided against it and left it in. Your views on the poems are welcomed (well, by me, anyway, the poets may not give a damn).

Now all I need to do is locate that Benny Anderson poem. Hm.

Voice in my head: my own, reading Trond Botnen

I’ve just seen The Scarlet Pimpernel, the 1982 version with Anthony Edwards. It’s not terribly good, despite having Ian Mckellen as Chauvelin (and Anthony Edwards, of course). It’s not bad, it’s just not as good as it ought to be. It sent me in search of the BBC version with Richard E. Grant, which is better, on DVD. It’s available (well, the first series is), but it’s expensive enough to mean I’d have to pay tax on it, so I think I’ll wait. It’d almost be cheaper to buy a video player, and if I did I could watch the tapes I have from when it was aired in Britain.

Or I could watch the 1934 version with Leslie Howard, which I do have on DVD, instead. And that is excellent. In fact it’s so excellent it’s one of my favourite films ever.

But not tonight. I’m sleepy. I want to go to bed. So why am I still sitting here?

Voice on the stereo: Bruce Willis – Under the Boardwalk

That was nice. In an attempt to behold a large body of water I went for a walk down by the harbour, out round Akershus Festning. It was pretty good. I sat for a while on one of the quays, and that would have been excellent except for a band playing live outside Aker Brygge, mangling the lyrics to Handle Me With Care and drowning out the cries of the gulls and any sound of waves there might have been (though there wouldn’t have been much in any case). I still miss my beach. The Oslofjord is well enough in its way, but the Atlantic it is not, nor yet the British Channel.

But sun and fresh(ish) air was pleasant. I feel like doing something outdorsy tomorrow morning if the weather holds. The question is: what does one do in Oslo on a sunny Sunday morning? “Frognerseteren” is a word that springs to mind, but what does one do at Frognerseteren? Can one go for a (tolerably relaxed and non-strenous) walk? Who knows? Then there is “Oslomarka”, but it’s kinda big. Where does one walk from? Where does one walk to? Is there a view to be had at all, or is there just woods and such? Who knows?

Answers on a postcard (or preferably e-mail/sms, please, a postcard won’t get here in time).

I almost dropped in to The Dubliner for a pint on my way back, but managed to resist the temptation. I spent the money on a bunch of tulips instead, tulips being my favourite flowers by far, the only exception, perhaps, being dandelions (but they’re not in season and don’t do well in vases in any case). Of course, my real vase has fish in it, but I find a pint-glass works well.

Voice on the stereo: Alanis Morissette – 21 things I want in a lover

I’ve said it before, and I’m bound to say it again:

When they were handing out patience I couldn’t be bothered to stand in line.

I am going outside to enjoy the sunshine – for one thing I need to go to the University Library (outside, Robin, you said “outside”).

Voice on the stereo: Carole King – It might as well rain until September

That’s what I get for having most of my friends spread, not just throughout the country, but throughout the world. Had a nice long phone call, though. And I did do the washing up.

I also got round to translating the “pictures of me” page to the new template. I even added a picture. Not a new one, mind you (well, it’ll be new to most of you).

Voice on the stereo: Bob Dylan – Seven Days (I think that’s the title, something from the bootleg collection thingy anyway)

You’re all invited over for tea (or whatever). Company would be good, but I can’t decide who to call.

We’ll have to watch Fame Academy at eight, but other than that I’m up for anything right now. Ok, almost anything.

Voice on the stereo: Avril Lavigne – Is it enough

I keep going on about hugs, but I must say that a shoulder massage is not to be sneezed at either.

Friday evening and all I’ve been able to think of all day is how nice it was going to be to get home, shut the door, and just chill. Well, I’m here. However, I find myself in a state of restlessness and vegging out is not only undesireable but well nigh impossible too. Typical.

Well, maybe I can get the washing up done. That would be some compensation. A walk might not be such a bad idea a little later.

A beach would be ideal, but I guess I’ll have to make do without.

Voice on the stereo: Shakira – Underneath Your Clothes

The friday five is in a hypothetical state today:

1. If you had the chance to meet someone you’ve never met, from the past or present, who would it be?

Oscar Wilde

2. If you had to live in a different century, past or future, which would it be?

I’d have liked to try living in the England of the Regency era, with some provisos (independent means being one).

3. If you had to move anywhere else on Earth, where would it be?

The British Isles, somewhere.

4. If you had to be a fictional character, who would it be?

Tricky. Hermione Granger, perhaps?

5. If you had to live with having someone else’s face as your own for the rest of your life, whose would it be?

I’m so used to my own I’d rather keep it, thanks.

I am missing the beach at Worthing. I need to stand on the beach and watch the waves roll in for a while. All it would take is a few minutes, probably, but I really need to find a beach. The longing for that particular peace of soul and mind that only a the ocean provides is, just now, so strong it is physical, an ache in my chest.

Voice in my head: Jamie O’Neal – All by myself