Blogging when I’m in a particularly good mood seems likes an excellent plan, so I shall do so! Yesterday, by contrast, was a little bit of a multi-faceted disaster. But we won’t talk about yesterday. Instead, I’ll talk about fun things like going to see Star Trek on Friday night. By the time that we arrived at the cinema, as it happens, we were already rather happily chilled out from thoughts of work after accidentally finding ourselves in the middle of a Caius pub quiz. (Naming counties is unreasonably hard – couldn’t we name cities instead?) The film itself, though, was great. I described it to my dad thusly: “you know how Star Trek Nemesis was rubbish and made no sense? Well this one was fantastic, although it still made no sense”. I stick by this, because the more I think about it the more illogical it seems. However, it was fun, which is something that Star Trek sometimes has distinct problems with. Success!
Cambridge is another institution which can struggle with the concept of fun during Easter Term, but we turned that all around on Saturday night with the help of Abi’s friend Kat. After some successful cooking and welcome wine drinking came the social device which is almost guaranteed to result in acrimony and bitterness. I speak, of course, of Monopoly. But due to a strange fluke, no-one got enough property to start developing and the result was the most pleasant game I have ever played. You travel around the board, paying paltry little sums to each other, with no fear of bankruptcy since everyone is getting progressively richer through passing Go anyway. In the end we just called it a day, everybody ending with over £1000 in cash and a new admiration for the middle class way of life.
This photo, incidentally, doesn’t quite capture that harmony. But it does instead rather nicely illustrate Oliver’s absolute pleasure at being photographed:
And finally! The ex-editor of the Evening Standard, Veronica Wadley – she who took it downhill from ‘alright’ to ‘awful’, and couldn’t even make ‘awful’ profitable – is screeching today about the prospect of a marginally more positive approach under its new owner. [cackles] Good good! The dismantling of the Boris PR machine is rather overdue, and all that’s really left is for Andrew Gilligan to get on his bike and we could be halfway there.