Eyjafjallajökull Pun Fail

I am flying to Budapest in a couple of days, Eyjafjallajökull permitting. I’ll feel a little ashamed about contributing to the vapour trails. Not because of climate change (I’m not having kids, so I retain the right to pollute) but because they sky looked so pretty last week. Big, and blue, and free of the ugly grey haze of criss-crossing streaks.

Isn’t spring wonderful? I feel peaceful. I’ve been watching Hampstead cricket club do their thing. My living room overlooks the pitch. It’s meditative, all that leather-on-willow bollocks. I also did something very grown-up and bought a Van Gogh print in a proper frame. And my girlfriend and I play Badminton every weekend. Sign of age #47: I tend to get up earlier on weekends than I do during the working week.

So this time next week, watch out for a comprehensive sociopolitical analysis of the Austro-Hungarian region: a blog called ‘what I did on my holidays’.


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