Monthly Archives: April 2006

JK Galbraith

The liberal American economist Professor JK Galbraith has died aged 97. He advised many US presidents, including Kennedy, and coined the term ‘affluent society’.
I was lucky enough to be invited to a garden party at his house in Cambridge Mass a few years ago and had very interesting chats with him and his guests who included Kitty Dukakis and Seamus Heaney.
It was quite an afternoon. And I managed to avoid talking about economics as well, which was a relief.

The Purpose?

‘The purpose of our lives is to be happy.’
The Dalai Lama

Pin-Up Of The Week

As you know, Peacockshock features a weekly pin-up animal.
This week’s pin-up is the Prescott – an unsightly and sometimes violent parasite which cohabits with a creature called the ‘Blair’ and feeds on plankton known as ‘tax payers.’
Related creatures include the ‘Greater Big-Eared Clarke’ and the ‘Lesser Heckled Hewitt’.
The Prescott has a bloated appearance and lives to a great age. It propels itself with the assistance of organisms known as ‘jags’.
It has two mates, but keeps them apart. Mate A is known as the ‘Pauline’ (Paulinus Hairdoensis). Mate B is known as the ‘Tracy’ (Secretarias Westminsterus Tartinabula Horribilis).
The Prescott is pursued by deadly predators known as ‘journalists’

Mr Sock And Mrs Pullets

I recieved spams this morning from Melody Wiltsy, Bicycle Beloved, Novelty Pullets and Microscopy Sock. I wish them well.

Basset Asset

I did some gardening yesterday assisted by Baby Basset who helped by carrying an old gardening glove around and digging random holes.

Ipswich Hobbit Trees

Ipswich Tree (left) and Lord Of The Rings Tree (right)
I was recently strolling through Christchurch Park in Ipswich (very nice – big manor house with pleasing grounds) and noticed some spooky wizened trees which bore an uncanny resemblance to the talking ones in the Lord Of the Rings films.

One of the Ipswich trees

Orlando Bloom reclining in an elf-like fashion, against a Lord of the Rings tree

Thistle Hotel

I was in Birmingham last week.
I stayed in a Thistle and emerged feeling like I’d sat on one.
When I arrived, having requested a non-smoking room, they sent me to a smoking one which had seen better days and had hairs in the bath of dubious anatomical provenance.
So I traipsed down to reception to demand a room fit for human habitation. The one they gave me wasn’t large enough to swing an amoeba in, but it was marginally better than a cardboard box under a railway bridge, so I decided to put up with it.
Breakfast was interesting. There was an inspirational lecture about healthy wholegrain food on the menu. But could I find any muesli or skimmed milk? No. Perhaps it was concealed by the Frosties and Cocopops.
I eventually opted for Rice Crispies, which I consumed to the delightful sound of Abba’s Greatest Hits, performed on panpipes by a clinically-depressed session musician.