I'm feeling a bit sensitive about my belly. It's grown over the last few months and I've received three comments about it recently. The last one was "You've got a real belly now, haven't you Geoff?"
"I've always had a belly."
"Not a noticeable one. It's a real belly now."
My spirits are not helped as I watch the disappearing back of an ex-friend as he runs past me. We used to play tennis together. Now he runs marathons like a fucking gazelle and here I am plodding along with my increasing waistband.
I think it's down to the handful of nuts I have with my breakfast. I'm cutting out the nuts. I'm sure that'll do the trick.
Highlights of the excellent Tony Hancock/Joan Le Mesurier docu drama included the three uses of the "c" word. Especially Tony's drunken "Kent! What am I fucking doing in Kent? Kent! You are a cunt!"
I can relate to that. Kent is one hell of a cunt, as is Ken Stott's and my middle aged spread. But I've got a few years on him and should be able to lose it.
I never got Hancock's humour, but I got his misery. But wasn't the humour in the misery? Yes, but it wasn't funny. You had to be there, I suppose.
The electricity meter reader today had some words of wisdom.
"My kids are very political. I tell them politics doesn't make any difference. It's scientists who make the world we live in. They're the ones who change things."
He'll eventually be out of work due to advancing technology and the widespread use of smart meters.
Technology. It's going to free us all.
Some book reviews
9 hours ago