Friday Night Notes.

I suppose there might be the odd person out there who was expecting the curtain to be rung down tonight on Charles’s travails with the French lieutenant’s woman-who-wasn’t, and his subsequent descent into the maelstrom of romantic disaster. Sorry, didn’t read any tonight. I watched a very bleak film called Island instead. Besides, I’m nervous. I know how dangerous maelstroms can be. It shall be done, of course, eventually.

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I thought I might mention that my education has been augmented by watching all those Chinese dancing girls. I’ve found a rather compelling video of a Chinese troupe dancing in the western modern style instead of the usual native traditional. The differences are very marked. There are no demure tilts of the head here – no innocent smiles or modest water sleeves. This one is raunchy. I suppose that must give some clue to cultural comparison.

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And I’m undecided whether to send birthday greetings to somebody tomorrow. They would be earnestly meant, but maybe injudiciously conceived. Looking back is usually a bad idea.

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Nevertheless, I am intrigued to wonder who is visiting this blog from 'Bronx, New York.' It's the sort of thing that inclines one to reach for the metaphorical photo album and search YouTube for all the wrong music.

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I've moved a little away from Chinese dancing girls now, and taken instead to watching Japanese ghost stories between midnight and bed time. There's nothing quite like watching spooky stories just before switching the light off. Unfortunately, the ones I've watched so far haven't been all that spooky, but at least the cars have their steering wheels in the right place so there's something to take comfort from there.