Dear Pop Pickers

Something political today, from February 1964, when The Beatles first arrived in the USA.

I was recently watching a short news film of crowds at the airport, and spotted something.

Look at the placards, in the still below (NB. it’s a photo, a frozen image, will not play as a vid here).

Far left placard says ‘Beatles – unfair to barbers’
Middle placard says ‘Beatles – unfair to bald men’

They seem to have been written by the same hand and have the same rectangular shape.

But look at the placard on the far right: different style of writing, different shape, different tone.

What a prescient sign of trouble to come, 5 years before kick off? It says, in capital letters:

‘England Get Out of Ireland’

How fab is that?

the story of life
is quicker than a wink of an eye

the story of love
is hello and goodbye
until we meet again

These are the last lyrics composed by Jimi Hendrix, at Monika Dannemon’s flat in London, on the night of his death.
Apparently, he was still alive when the medics put him in the ambulance. Go figure, as they say in Seattle.

Just watched ‘The Cove’, the documentary that won the Oscar last night. See it. Get involved. You are what you eat.
http://www.takepart.com/thecove

My blog…
http://dailydipstick.wordpress.com

In this pic, you can see the England frisbee team, ready for tonight’s Egypt friendly.   We all refused to shake hands with Pumpkin the Donkey who lives in a shed nearby, because he hasn’t got any.   I’m the handsome guy taking the picture. Angela’s out of town. That’s why we lost. Plus that little kid in yellow, what a goal-hanger. I’m going to put some butter on his fingers next week. More recipes soon.

Blue skies, snowy peaks and wolf tracks. See you there.

PS. Our house is just visible – the last little white one, on the left, on the ridge.

I think that’s the moon in the pic, however, still up.
Took this just after Angela left for Darfur on an early flight. Drank my coffee on our balcony, watching two Black Kites building a nest in a palm tree.
Went running later, Khartoum is all dust and donkeys.
Easier than usual though, this time, perhaps because jog buddy JC was out of town, scooping the news.
Struck me that we probably talk too much, or I do, on our runs, hence they are hard going.
Struck me that running solo is more like meditation, time to focus on that tricky chapter.
Struck me that I better watch where I’m going, because donkeys can kick sideways. Grey noses, black belts.
If you don’t run, try it. Life falls into place. Especially when you fall in a hole.

Goo Goo was a sheepdog in Transylvania and once chased a bear.

Check those eyes. We loved him and he loved us.

He also loved pigs’ feet and now he’s eating one in Heaven.