I report, dear reader, from the throes of an ongoing heatwave here in Cruel Britannia. No, not a misprint, and not an opener I've used before it must be said, especially in September. As far as I'm concerned, if at all possible, on that rare occasion the sun comes out to play these days, it's time to put down whatever you're doing and re-organise your day. The cold hard fact is that very soon the Great Darkness will descend upon this fair isle, and that will be that until next Spring.
Along with this all-pervading gloom come the Winter Apologists - you know 'em, drizzle-loving, dampness addicted - singing their seasonal song about the ever-changing colours, the kaleidoscopic beauty and natural wonderment of Autumn. Yeah, maybe in Aspen, Colorado you delusional flower-children. Over here it's just Brown.
It's all part of the Weird Weather patterns we live with nowadays though. I mean, the last few days here have been sun-drenched and cloudless. We just don't get to see that anymore, even in midsummer. Anyhoo, I'm just going with it while it lasts.
On another topic altogether, yesterday as I'm sure y'all know, was the eighth anniversary of 9/11. Normally I'd have done a commemorative blog in accordance with this, but I just couldn't rouse myself at all. A couple of nights back I watched a U.S. TV documentary whose entire remit was to make 9/11-as-Inside-Job theories look like Aliens-have-fiddled-with-me ramblings. Nothing new there I know, but it insulted my intelligence enough for me to switch it off, and kind of dulled my urge to write about it.
Even the most obvious aspects of the 9/11 attacks bear further investigation. Like, whatever it was that hit the Pentagon and exploded, it most definitely wasn't a Boeing 757. As a recent speeding summons of mine stated: We have photographic evidence.
The 9/11 Truth will out in the fullness of time pop-kids, you'll see.