I have nothing to say today - nothing to blog about. I thought I might reflect on the horror of the fatal Nairobi shopping mall attack or the dignity of Dr Muhammad Taufiq Al Sattar who lost his entire family in an arson attack in Leicester. The return of Kiwi Katherine de Chevalle to the blogging fold or the amazing number of plums we have harvested from our Victoria plum tree this year. How to make something delicious from a bag of microwaveable rice or the tragic Tory privatisation of Royal Mail...
But I cannot muster the energy. Can't be bothered. Nothing to say.
Or maybe I could have written about last evening's journey up to Leeds to join our lovely daughter Frances for a celebratory birthday meal. Born twenty five years ago, she remains the apple of our eye. A young professional now. With five of her friends we dined on mince and slices of quince in Miah's Kitchen - an intimate up-market Indian curry house on York Place. One of the waiters even brought out a sparkling birthday chocolate caterpillar log and we sang "Happy Birthday to you...". I was pleased we had made the effort to join her in the middle of the working week. We drove back on a very quiet M1 motorway, now peppered with the evidence of expensive, slow motion road widening activity. Flashing lights and warnings about speed cameras...
But I'm not in the mood for writing about that. No way.
At the birthday meal we were asked to spill the beans about Frances's childhood - an embarrassing tale. But we had nothing to say for she, like her brother, was such a lovely child and our memories of her are almost entirely sweet. But we related the tale of a summer holiday in France when she was almost four years old. From the back of the car a little voice piped up out of the blue - "I want a fishing net". And that voice continued for the next three days. When she woke up, her first words were, "I want a fishing net" and at hourly intervals, the same refrain - "I want a fishing net". It wasn't a request, it was a demand. Finally, we relented and in a seafront shop in La Baule, ground down by her ceaselessness, we found the precious fishing net she had craved. And, as the tide was out, I took her straight down to the rock pools where we saw little French fishes and caught a lurking French crab called Pierre. She was very happy. Mission accomplished. What next?
But you wouldn't want to hear an unremarkable story like that one so I'll just say nothing and go back to bed for a bit more kip.
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| Frances last evening - just twenty five |
A post and a half from someone with nothing to say.
ReplyDeleteThe news is very depressing so a fishing net was the perfect antidote.
How come you are also up so early Adrian? Get back to bed old chap! ...But not with me! You are too bristly!
DeleteNice :)
ReplyDeleteOh, I left a link back on your Quern post YP about Easter Island that was on our Foreign Correspondent show this week.
DeleteI seem to have a lot of 'nothing to say' days and certainly most of the news if far too depressing to dwell on. Lovely story about Frances though. Now there's a lay who knows what she wants!
ReplyDeleteJenny! She is not a "lay"! She is a lady!
DeleteIt may have been what I was thinking but I wouldn't be brave enough to say so.
DeleteOh dear, terribly sorry. I will have to start wearing my glasses when I type! :(
DeleteAnd I was the one to encourage Thread enabling. Jennyta you are more entertaining than the post. Glad I did.
DeleteIt's the nothing to say, that speaks the loudest. It's the nothing to say, that let's the Tory Boys flog off our Royal Mail. It's the nothing to say, that lets the the militants in all walks of life get away with murder on an industrial scale. It's the nothing to say that we've all become, and it saddens me.
ReplyDeleteAlthough if this post is your nothing to say, I hate to think what would happen if you got your bott out of bed with something to say.
I'm interested that when I say something a bit near the mark on my blog, it is answered with a deafening silence. Are we all becoming fiddlers while the world burns?
LLX
I feel as I have had my bottom spanked! Quite a nice feeling actually matron... Seriously though, I share your sense that many of us are like ostriches these days - burying our heads in the sand of social media, DVDs, self-interest and day to day survival. Not enough kicking against the pricks
DeleteSeems like I have lots of "Nothing to say" days. Life just ambles along and it is amazing how often we do the same things at the same time every year and I think "Oh I've already blogged about that." But then this blog is a bit of a chronicle of my life as well as other bits and pieces so it's interesting ( to me) to see these routines emerging.
ReplyDeleteProud Papa ....and rightly so .
ReplyDeleteYou obviously got 'plenty o' nuthin'.
ReplyDeleteWe know a French Pierre too. When Natalie was only 5 I took all three of them to France and we had a French lizard called Pierre who used to live out by the clothes line.
Hi. Can you please caption the photo of mine that you have used with "Photo courtesy of the Leeds Restaurant Guide" and link through to my website LeedsRestaurantGuide.com, or remove it.
ReplyDelete