Call me retarded if you like, but I have been fascinated to learn about a sort of animal called Tardigrade (slow walking?). Have a look at the Wiki entry. There are lots of different sorts, typically 1mm long but with eight legs. They are interesting for being very tough indeed. They survive at 6,000m in the mountains, and at 4,000m below in the sea. You can freeze them and boil them, and they survive. What are they for? you may ask. Why does an animal (note that they aren't insects) 1mm long need eight legs? Go ask a Creationist, and while you are asking, see whether they agree that the Earth is flat.

I shall revert to Creationists another time, if I remember. They are brainless and dangerous (to the sanity of their children).

There is a thing in the paper which "reveals" the Department of Health's list of nine types of pissheads. Nine types, and I don't seem to belong to any of them. Memo to Dept of Health: make that ten types.

The local mag carries an ad for a house to let near the Blackheath Standard. Apart from its six double bedrooms (separate staff quarters, of course), it boasts a basement pool of 20 x 9 metres. Just £16,000 per month. Thought I'd mention it. Has a merchant banker just lost his job?

And so to sport. Phew! Enfin! I went out with the Veterans yesterday and had the great pleasure of extracting a few quid from them. That was due to an unreal sequence of putts, which of course was not repeated today. And I have to play a singles match tomorrow against our famed Steady Eddie, John Short. I will be happy if I can avoid a dog licence (a defeat by 7 and 6, which used to be the cost of a .. Enough).

Meanwhile, in Kentucky, hundreds of journos are having to file copy about the Ryder Cup, so there is bullshit all around. The BBC website is even offering photos of players practising. Sad.

The Arse and Man U demonstrated their limitations this week, while Liverpool had Gerrard to score a superb goal. Football is still only football.

Lancashire cricket is in a dreadful state. They will have to get rid of has-beens and start all over again.

The weather today reminded me of September in Geneva. Beautiful. So I cut the grass and admired my tomatoes. I'll take a bag of produce to Bristol on Sunday. A spaghetti carbonara sta sera. It's time for an apero on the terrace.

Ciao.