The BBC reports on how a major threat to Homeland Security was averted by quick-thinking White House aides. Apparently, a TV cameraman caught Dubya out of uniform during his trip to Ireland. The cameraman is reported to be on his way to Guantanamo.
To live in England, and to follow the England fooball team, is to know the true meaning of the word heartache. This happens every two years, but you never get used to it.
After their disastrous start against France, England have advanced to the quarter-finals of Euro 2004. All thanks to an 18-year-old kid named Wayne Rooney (note to self, must play more football with Charlie). Next up is the host nation, Portugal, on Thursday night.
One recent soggy Saturday, in a seethingly crowded branch of IKEA at Brent Park, north London, a young couple gaze at a Lack sidetable, and then, with fond exasperation, at each other, and have the following conversation:
“But it’s only Â£8.”
“But we don’t need it.”
“But it’s only Â£8!”
“But we don’t … OK. Whatever. Whatever.”
— From a very good, if very long, feature in the Guardian on the phenomenon that is IKEA. We absolutely love IKEA. I’m writing this sitting in a Verksam and working at a Bengt. Charlie loves the children’s play area (and so do we, since we can leave him there for an hour and get some serious shopping done). And then, of course, there are the meatballs.
England snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Courtesy of that man Zidane. It’s going to be a particularly bad Monday in England tomorrow.