Columnist Crushing

He writes columns about his kids and the weirdness of approaching middle age and still I've never been able to help quietly loving Richard Glover. And this piece, from the Fair Go Fairfax site, suggests that I was right all along: ' To his credit, Glover told listeners how embarrassed he was his column was appearing in a strike-breaking paper.' For those enthused by Politics/Web 2.0, there's a petition on the site.

Question is, are all such randomly scattered columnist affections vindicated by this heroic move by G-Love? What would that ghastly Tory A.A. Gill do -- apart from write in a beautifully jaded and digressive style about all the plebian fuss? I'm off to do some constructive drinking with a phalanx of non-AAP journalists.

Massive Family Feud

Sometimes life throws up blog-appropriate conundra.

So, tonight, my sister and I betook ourselves to eat dinner with our grandfather, Elder Statesman, Pater Familias, All Round Good Guy. Our dinners are regular and generally good-humoured.

This evening, however, a problem arose, one which mapped uneasily onto a generation gap. The sticking point is the definition of the words 'next Wednesday.'

'I'll see you next Wednesday.'

If spoken on a Monday, these words apparently make available two interpretations.

Firstly, I'll see you in two days. Secondly, I'll see you next week, on Wednesday.

My own preference is strongly for the latter. Two days after Monday is clearly this Wednesday. Only one staff member surveyed at the Welcome Hotel in Balmain agreed with my grandfather's opposing point of view. The rest, more, shall we say, generationally aligned with my sister and I, agreed that next Wednesday is next Wednesday. There are many reasons to go to the Welcome Hotel -- the date and fig tart and the thing they do with beans and butter being just two -- but this evening, the most compelling is the general sharpness of the staff.

Does anyone disagree? Is next Wednesday actually this Wednesday? Surely not...

Update

I resolve to return to blogging as soon as spring settles in. The glorious dusky pink orchid on my desk will no doubt wither but I'm expecting otherwise a riot of fecundity. Being able to cycle without frosty scarlet fingers, iced drinks, summer fruits: these I anticipate eagerly. Not to mention the end of semester. At the end of Week 4, I'd be happy to accelerate into StuVac.

Anyway.

Here's a list of items that won't be accompanying me on my first major athletics undertaking, the Mudgee Half-Marathon.

1. Skins. Patented tight compression performance gear: not ready for it.
2. Protein gels. Late adopter speaking here.
3. Glasses that don't bounce.
4. Confidence about the weather, distance, possibility for survival.
5. Sufficient knowledge of warm-down stretches.

If this blog is never updated again, fear not the nuclear winter but the demise of your correspondent. Folly, etc.