Friday, July 25, 2014
|Free running (Parkour) in Gaza|
Someone was running on the top of the apartment building seemingly trying to break in. Police were called and morning dreams were ruined. Cops and apparent criminals were never seen again apart from a courtesy call at 6.30am to confirm that burglars were in fact free-running teenagers in black t-shirts who didn't like to sleep in apparently!
After my coffee and shock treatment I ventured out of the house for some air. It's become usual for me to check the news on my android phone every morning as I'm walking. People must have wondered by the look on my face if I'd been in shock-therapy because I soon needed to lie down again.
I've said a lot on this blog over the years, some of which I have now censored, and other parts I've tried to be subtle about. Certain things did need saying.
This morning I read the news and my heart skips a beat as I realize vips are reading my musings and memories after all!
I don't much miss my old jobs, or my previous bosses, but I can't help but smile reading the below and seeing Karma take over!
Quote: "FinCEN accused FBME, which though chartered in Tanzania operates primarily in Cyprus, of facilitating financial activity for transnational organised crime and Hezbollah.
FBME has denied the allegations, saying the US Treasury had compiled the report without its input."
Friday, July 18, 2014
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Mexico keeps popping up today, I don’t know why. I was sitting in another one of those bland government offices waiting for my number to be called so I can ask a question I already know the answer to. The lady I speak with asks me to confirm my date of birth; she tells me it’s the same as hers. We both chuckle politely. I get up to walk away, a guy walks into me, almost trips me up, his bright yellow t-shirt blazoned with ‘Mexico’ on the chest.
I drive to a nearby mall and decide not to have a burger but a chicken-filled taco instead. Something subliminal must be going on. People on a nearby table are talking about how the food in America is nothing like this and that ‘real Mexicans’ make it and sell it on the roadside. I inevitably have to use the ladies room. On the stainless steel door frame, stamped in black, I spot a few numbers and the words ‘Made in Mexico’.
If the Mexican football team were still playing in the World Cup I would put a bet on them. We’re only half way through the day; will there be more I wonder?