Tuesday, November 08, 2005

apres moi, le deluge

Although I freely admit that the current weather conditions have little or nothing to do with me personally (I don't even smoke anymore, I don't have a car, I cycle most places although I can't quite bring myself to wash out cans or that sort of shit), I can't help feeling that at least a small fraction of the water being hurled from the heavens is directed at me. Each time I step outside it seems to rain just that little bit harder and change direction to get past my umrella... cuh.

See the Northern Quarter disappear behind a veil of water. It's a shame it couldn't wash away a few of the asymetrically coiffed fuckwits who hang around the streets moaning about world poverty while spending their parents' money on bikes even more glamorous than mine (did I mention I have a new bike? Oh, yes, just the odd time...).

Perhaps it's the coverage of the recent outbreaks of civil unrest in France that has the phrase turning in my head. I decided earlier today to write a considered piece on the topic, debating whether the violence is the inevitable irruption of repressed and marginalised desires in a state designed around the principles of reinforcing similarity, or the massed collaboration of criminal elements seizing the discourse of the victim within contemporary narratives of social cohesion. However, instead I will show you a funny shot I took while cycling through town yesterday.

I fear that stopping mid-lane to take shots of knob-gags for your blog does not appear in the highway code. Oh well.

The other very exciting news (the news that has stopped me blogging over recent days) is that I got the flat! I called the agency back to see why it hadn't gone from their website and was told that the previous people had backed out of the deal - I offered a tiny bit more money and got it. Hurrah.

I move on Saturday. Or at least, that's when I get the keys. Not sure I will be able to move all my stuff on that day. I have spent the last few days sorting out crap and throwing things away. I've sorted out 300 books to take to a charity shop. It breaks my heart, but I can't keep taking so many around with me, and I really haven't read most of them for years. What is it with books? I don't even have an O level in French but I have an ancient book on advanced French grammar that was rescued from the 'to be thrown out' pile twice before I gave in and left it there... It's just so pretty and evocative and full of marvellous things. I should stop there - I will be rooting around to rescue it if I thing about it for another second.

Here is the flat:

I will take pictures of the lovely view down the river when I move in and post them asap. Although I just checked the agent's website and it is still being advertised, so I will not believe I have it until I'm in there and the door is locked behind me.


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