I'm going to tell you two things about myself that you might or might not already know. The first is that if I listen to the radio (which I mostly do while I'm either driving, cooking or making my morning espresso) it's invariably Radio 4. The second thing is that I am completely disinterested in sport. So much so, that the sport section of my daily Guardian goes straight into the recycling bin without even being unfolded.
Anyway, when I'm making my morning cup of espresso and listening to the radio, it will always be to the Today programme. And if you're familiar with the programme you'll know that there is a three to four-minute sports slot around about the half-hour. So three or four minutes of an hour's worth of listening, in other words. Now I work from home, so I have no set time when I have to be in front of this screen, so consequently I only set an alarm if I have to be somewhere in particular in the morning (and that is probably only once every two or three weeks). Which means that I wake up when I wake up, which is naturally - and that can vary by anything up to (at a guess) 45 minutes either way.
But here's the thing: whatever time I wake up, when I turn on the radio in the morning, nine times out of ten it will be right in the middle of the sports slot. Why is that, I wonder?
I've been doing a bit of sorting out recently (in a vain attempt to become a little more like Alix), and I came across this lovely little book. It's a catalogue (measuring 115mm x 153mm) for the Hundertwasser Exhibition which toured New Zealand and Australia during 1973 and '74. I bought it in Germany in 1974 (or maybe it was 1975: you know, I was there, so I don't remember).
Actually, for something that was printed in the 1970s, the production quality is amazing (including lots of foil blocking). So much so that I really think I ought to send it to Richard, who I'm sure would make a far more eloquent assessment of it's print qualities.
But the reason for me showing it to you is to let you know about the poster that Hundertwasser designed for the 1972 Munich Olympics. Here it is. And I want you to read Hundertwasser's description of how it came about.
Well, here I am - five years old today and just about managing to hold on to the notion of blogging. Whether I'll manage to hold out for another five, only time will tell. Because I do get a very real sense that blog years must be equal to at least 15 regular years, if not more. Not least because those I started out with are beginning to fade away: not all of them, by any means; but many seem to have lost the will to post, or at least post on a regular basis. And I'm not at all sure that the same won't happen to me. I'll try my best not to let that happen, though. Because I really would miss all the good things, and all the good people, that this blog has brought my way.
In the meantime, and assuming that you're still with me, thank you for listening.
It's about time I replaced my trusty mountain bike, because the gears are beginning to go and the cost of having it fixed would be more than the bike's worth. And a hybrid this time, with an aluminium frame. So I've been keeping an eye out on eBay in case anything suitable comes along (mind you, have you seen how much second-hand bikes go for these days? - probably the main reason why I'm still looking). Anyway, one caught my attention this morning: