Il pleut

If I had to take a cold shower, or even get myself ready to go swimming - even though I love swimming and used to swim in the sea all the time in Pompey, sewage and all - I prevaricate, have to psych myself up. Why is it then that as soon as it starts raining hard I want to rush outside like a large welly-clad duck? Tis a mystery, but it's raining out there and has been all night and inside I'm all smiley and can feel a Gene Kelly coming on.

Dear Lord, how courageous do you have to be to take part in Gay Pride in Jerusalem? There are the men dressed flamboyantly as women that we have come to love and expect from Pride, but in general on the newscast I'm watching, it is less colourful than in Britain or Canada. On t'other hand, the men with beards are out in full force trying to keep Jerusalem holy for the whole world, by this I imagine he means 'find some way to stop Pride' and three thousand bullet-proofed police/troops have been drafted in to deal with trouble. Fortunately they currently look bored, most likely quite a lazy day for Jerusalem.

Clichés are generally clichés because they have either once been true or still are, but Newscaster Roland was not presenting this morning, instead his colleague, whose name I forget was sitting behind the newsdesk.
Like many Frenchwomen, she knows how to present herself. In spite of an overlarge mouth and nose, she has close-cropped hair and perfect choice of dark coloured shirt so that she looks attractive and yet for the life of me I can't see how. I guess it's just a French thing.
And yes, I know that Catherine Deneuve deserves an honourable mention for being both beautiful and French at the same time.

Last night I watched Jay Leno, who I really don't like, I find him lame-arsed and often toe-curlingly gauche. But Sasha Baron-Cohen was on and I was really excited to see him being interviewed as himself. Sadly it was not so. He came on and was interviewed as Borat - very funny of course, but I was mildly disappointed to have sat through a quarter of an hour of Leno being a tosser. He had some 'ordinary Americans' and humiliated them by asking them general knowledge questions. They put up a picture of the Twat of Iran and the people couldn't identify him. One said he was the Prime Minister of Britain. Another said Israel.

I went to Ikea late yesterday afternoon, partly because I hadn't been out all day and partly to get an antidote to the awfulness of adverts for Christmas frippery. Ikea is full of light and good design and I feel lifted just by getting myself into the zone and drifting round it. No horrid little porcelain scenes, no over-decorative tat, no clutter, just clean strong lines and fabulousness.

Sorry, did that sound like an ad? Good-oh.