I've never been very good at finishing things. Anything without a deadline moves into the grey mists of the "ongoing" and stays there forever. Maybe because after the end there is always a "now, what?" that comes very quickly after the feeling of achievement. And when the feeling is one of relief, it's never too soon to put it behind you.

So I prefer beginnings. Open possibilities. Blank pages. New... everything. Or not everything, but enough to make you a bit nervous about what might be coming. The thrill of the still to be decided.
A beginning doesn't  need to have a purpose. It can be just a result of the way we measure things.
But I still find it exciting.
And I'm determined to make the best of it.

Here is to a very happy 2011!!



Some years I love Christmas, some years I loathe Christmas.
Oblivious as I am to the crowds, the carols, the shopping and general seasonal craziness, my Christmas spirit has basically to do with how I'm feeling about meeting most of the people I actually care about in a very short span of time. It's great that so many of us can come back home for the same few days and spend time together, which is basically what Christmas is about as far as I'm concerned. But for me, whatever the mood was at the beginning, the result is invariably the same: OD. Thanks heavens it's only once a year.

This year is one of the "loving it" ones, if only improved by the latest Allie Brosh's blog post, wicked as always:
Hyperbole and a Half: The Year Kenny Loggins Ruined Christmas

Happy Christmas!!



Last week my dad, a book lover himself, told me about this elderly man who had been an avid reader since his childhood. Not having a lot of money, every book he bought was a little treasure. He used to rummage in second-hand bookshops and ramble all over town looking for a certain title or for a certain edition. With love and dedication, his collection grew slow and steadily,

Naturally cheerful and outgoing, in the last few months this man had become sad and quiet. He knew that his children and grandchildren didn't care about books. His books or any others. And he was worried about the future of his precious and loved ones once he was no longer around.

I happened to have read this heart-warming story a few days earlier: Elvira Lindo - Libros en la basura
José Alberto Gutiérrez, dustman in Colombia, found a tattered Tolstoy novel on the street and brought it home, where his wife mended it with love. He started doing the same with every book he found and even his mates at work were giving him the ones they found. José Alberto and his wife put all the rescued books in their living room. Soon, children and women from their poor neighbourhood would come to read them. It didn't take very long before they they had to find a new place for all the books... Today, they have several million books in three libraries, all built with love and dedication.

Books deserve to have several lives. To be treated with care.

And to be shared.


Fixing stuff yourself

This might be no big deal for other people, but fixing small things that are not working properly makes me feel a sort of domestic MacGyver. I have just brought my laptop connection back to life with a torch and a Q-Tip. OK, it was only dirty, but hey, simple solutions are the best.


I had to start like this

Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly
Good Golly Miss Molly and boats
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet
Jump back in the alley, add nanny goats

Eighteen-wheeler Scammels, Domineker camels
All other mammals plus equal votes
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willy
Being rather silly and porridge oats

A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it
You're welcome, we can spare it, yellow socks
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty
Going on forty, no electric shocks

The juice of the carrot, the smile of a parrot
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks
Elvis and Scotty, the days when I ain't spotty,
Sitting on the potty, curing smallpox

Health service glasses, gigolos and brasses
Round or skinny bottoms

Take your mum to Paris, lighting up the chalice
Wee Willy Harris
Bantu Stephen Biko, listening to Rico
Harpo, Groucho, Chico

Cheddar cheese and pickle, the Vincent motor sickle
Slap and tickle
Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale
Balabalabala and Volare

Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy
Being in my nuddy
Saying 'okey-dokey', singalonga Smokey
Coming out of chokey

John Coltrane's soprano, Adi Celantano
Bonar Colleano