Emma and the Banana.

Having typed a short blog post and watched an episode of Inside Number 9 on DVD, I found myself at a loose end and becoming bored. I decided it would be interesting to get hold of Wiki, type in ‘Emma Watson’ to discover when she was born, and then try to work out where I was and what I was doing at that most propitious of moments.

Why Emma Watson, you may ask. Well, I always think of her every time I write anything about the Liberal Alter-Establishment, especially since I have fond recollections of the time when she was effectively indistinguishable from Hermione Granger. That was before she became a professional actor, caught the popularity bug, and decided to prove to the world that she really did have breasts just in case any of us were wondering. And there was also the fact that, for all her fabled beauty – and I would be the last to deny that she was and still is extremely physically attractive – I always found her nose slightly irritating and wished they would avoid photographing her in profile.

But then I decided that my present needs would be better served by having a banana, so that’s what I did instead. (It had a black bit at the bottom, you know. I swear bananas never had black bits at the bottom when I was a lad.)

So here I am, having eased back the habitual depression a notch or two, having come a little closer to accommodation with sitting in a cold old house on a frigid November night, and having managed, in consequence, to make a silly and utterly pointless blog post. Hoorah for that, I say. I expect I’ll still be scared to get out of bed tomorrow morning because I always am, but that’s in the future.

(So should I now consider writing that post I’ve had in mind for a while, about the notion that time doesn’t exist, and if it doesn’t exist does it mean that there’s no such thing as past and future, and if that’s the case does it indicate that life is a matter of each individual’s fragment of consciousness travelling through a fixed tableau? Erm…)