Minus 20 Degrees.

I’m not sure a week in Crete in early September is a good idea. The stock Market may have lost £49billion but I’ve just lost 20 degrees Celsius! And I’ve got half a swimming pool in my ears and enough wax to over winter bees. But we had a lovely time and thanks to the swimming pool found a new basis for our relationship; Mothermouse can’t see me without her glasses and I can’t hear her with my ears full of water. But the Altea Village Hotel was a dream, built to a plan that was obviously torn up and haphazardly reassembled like a Bowie lyric. We fed the cats, tickled the dogs and laughed about otters, having become quite adept at mimicking the latter doing magic tricks with three stones on our chest, hilarious to us but confusing to fellow diners. Of note was the canine beauty parlour where the Greek owners had found the perfect English phrase to encapsulate the essence their establishment, “Doggy Style.” And then in the glaring sun above Manchester, well the glaring sun above the clouds above Manchester we dipped and landed in autumn England and all I’ve got to remind me is a gorgeous new black lighter that’s already showing signs of being faulty. And today UBS bank lost £1.3billion by a rogue trader, probably in a tea break. It reminds me of the time someone purchased 12.000 widgets and, due to the purchaser’s over punctilious use of decimal places we received twelve thousand. In the strange way of unintended consequences computers, our bastions of all things digital are making numbers meaningless, as they have with cut and paste music and CGI film. It appears when one can create anything it has the value of nothing. All I know is I’m twenty degrees colder.