Having been living the dream for some time now it is possible that I could be getting too used to it, becoming complacent etc. Well that can't be allowed to happen so I decided to up the authenticity game today by firing up the kitchen stove (primarily to check for dead birds etc.) and cook breakfast on it. This was deemed to be a success so we decided, log by log, to keep it going and eventually cook dinner on it (yet to be trialled). This welcome return to down home values I'm sure fit's in with some fashionable and awkward bastard's ideology somewhere but that's hardly important as we don't care much for fitting in anyway. In another flurry of activity I varnished the rabbit hutch/cat house and glued odd bits of wood together. I feel in some way connected now with nature and the spirits of the divine and various lost generations and family members. It would be great and so reassuring if only I believed - but there's little chance of that.
Last night's football: I'm stupid enough to be patriotic (pretty uncool in these troubled times) but those pink Scotland strips are a humiliating joke and I can see why Scotland can't play well in them as I've no doubt each player decked out in them feels, deep down inside, like a bit of a fanny (to use the common parlance). So whilst I'm living a general kind of vague dream in my main stream life the old World Cup dream has effectively sunk without trace for another four years or so.
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