HOME.
It was a Russian Arab!
Report from our languages correspondent in Ventnor, Neil Barnden (nepotism - so what!) after I sent him an assumed Arabic email for which I had been unable to obtain an English translation from Google translate.
"It is Russian (the text refers to something costing 3900 rubles - probably Viagra!). But I can't get any translation from the text either. The names you copied into your blog were actually in Cyrillic script - which Google translate was happy to work with. So perhaps it's the fact that this text has been translated from Cyrillic Russian to 'Roman' Russian that's the problem."
Well thanks, Neil, now I need not fear al-Qaeda: just the KGB.
Hell, they don't target you for shunning their Viagra, do they?
Three lessons in self-importance.
Lesson 1.
I suppose it is not surprising what a touchy little politician American Secretary of State Hillary Clinton can be. She is, after all, still married to Bill. But her recent outburst in response to a question from an uncomprehending Congolese student was a classic in affronted dignity.
She is not alone of course. Self-importance in the political world is more common than fleas on a hedgehog.
It has even been mooted that Georgy, writer of the pro-Georgian blog Cyxymu, an outspoken critic of sadly misunderstood Vladimir Putin and his gentle cronies, so upset delicate Russian sensibilities that party line hackers swamped the web, interrupting Twitter and Facebook, in a concerted attempt to disable his blog.
Lesson 2.
Now we have the ludicrous example of America v. McKinnon, where a British hacker and Asperger syndrome sufferer named Gary McKinnon is to be extradited to the United States to face charges that he infiltrated American military websites, caused thousands of dollars in damage to their national security and badly dented their beribboned self-esteem.
What a pathetic bunch of incompetents they are.
If an eccentric Scot can so easily slide under the razor wire of their computer security is it inconceivable that Afghanistan, China, Iran, Russia, or even Monaco might be doing the same?
OK, so the man needs to have his wrist slapped for being a bloody nuisance, but by a court here, please, not by the US criminal justice system.
Sometimes we should simply tell our bullying American cousins to piss off.
Lesson 3.
On Wednesday our two daughters travelled to Italy for a well-earned holiday. The following is an extract from my diary after their arrival phone call to their mother.
The actor James Nesbitt and his family were at Gatwick and booked on the same flight as Jacqui and Roz. Seems he left his wife struggling with the luggage, the kids and all the arrangements, sailed to the head of the queue to be first to board the plane, and left nobody in any doubt that he considered himself much the VIP.
Consequently, Mo's: "How interesting..." reaction to the initial news that he was at the airport elicited a typically down-to-earth response from Roz:
"Not really. He's a tosser."
She's usually right.
See you, Jimmy.
TELEVISION.
BBC Proms 2009.
My interest in the Proms is desultory nowadays. I have never been able to understand the lure of Stravinsky, Shostakovich or any of the weirdly discordant modern composers so readily given a Proms platform in recent years. As time goes by I find it increasingly difficult to accept them. I play no instrument but I love melodic music.
Recently The National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain, conducted by Vasily Petrenko, performed Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No.1 in B flat minor. No matter how dismissive the pianoforte aficionados may be, you cannot write it off.
This performance, with the occasionally wild-eyed Stephen Hough as soloist, was somehow as new as its young orchestra.
Tuneful and exciting and great viewing.
Law and Order: Special Victims Unit.
Just shown here have been a couple of episodes when Christopher Meloni was away.
Mariska Hargitay managed brilliantly and serial policeman Richard Belzer, "Captain" Dann Florek and confident ice-T were first rate.
When ol' Chris did come back he found himself thrown straight into the deep end with a nasty case involving neo-Nazis and little children being shot by a sniper. The story had more twists and turns than a mountain road, a denouement that the writers of Murder She Wrote would have killed for, and a screen-stealing performance by Marcia Gay Harden as an undercover FBI agent.
Special Victims Unit becomes more special with each series.
FILM.
Grow Your Own.
This little film, directed by Richard Laxton, surfaced and sank in 2007 to mixed reviews, most of them rather poor.
I watched it on television on a night when the opposition was mostly repeats and I found it quite enjoyable.
There was a touch of gentle humour, a few sad truths, and nice underplaying by a multi-racial cast of modern day Brits.
I put it in The Full Monty/Hear My Song category so perhaps I am prejudiced.
I liked them, too.
READING.
The Endless Game.
Finally reached the end of Bryan Forbes's lengthy spy yarn to find that it really is the prelude to A Song at Twilight, published with it. He's good enough to make you persevere, so I shall.
I shall also be reading Corduroy Mansions by Alexander McCall Smith because it was a gift and is clearly a far cry from his No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency.
More anon.
CARS.
The Old For New Deal.
We are exchanging our ten year old, two door, 1.4 Seat Arosa (one careful owner) in a couple of months for a new, four door, 1.2 Hyundai i10 Comfort.
The exchange is being done under the scrappage scheme and, though I shall miss the Arosa's great little engine (it would do over ninety all day long on the motorway I have been told), we shall not be sorry to abandon the inconvenience of only two passenger doors.
Anyway, the one careful owner tag cuts no ice when it comes to depreciation.
I checked its trade-in price.
Hear the hollow laughter?
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