Saturday Morning

In Ian McEwan's seminal deconstruction of the so-called-science of 'Brain surgery' the antihero, Mr Jonathan Surgeon, comes down stairs one Saturday, makes himself a cup of tea and, an hour later, has a fight with the next door neighbour about a lawn mower. An ordinary day in Godalming. But years spent at the operating table have not prepared Mr Surgeon for what comes next, and events rapidly spiral out of control.

If McEwan is saying one thing, I'm pretty sure it's "Things happen on a Saturday" - though it is, of course, entirely possible that what he's actually saying is "Things happen on a Saturday (in Godalming).

There is universal truth here. The first cup of tea of the day is the best bit of the day. And moreso on a Saturday.

Here I sit, spending the most precious commodity of time. (Technically there are a number of rare-earth metals, and also nuclear fuel mixes, which are, in fact, more precious commodities but I'd appreciate it if you skipped over that nuance, like a stile.)

I've had a lot of ideas banging around my head recently, but the idea of committing any of these to the screen, when I spend all my blasted hours committing things to a screen at work, wasn't all that appealing. Did I mention that my job appears to be to write, read and delete email? This is not very productive. On the plus side, I've spent significant chunks of the last 4 weeks interviewing people, and then processing the results of those interviews. As a result I will shortly have more people in my team. This is great as it means more email.

There simply isn't enough time to write, which is why being woken at 06:24 on a Saturday by an over-excited 6 year old does at least result in me blogging. (He's watching something unsuitable on TV now - this parenting lark is easy). Our 'study' has accumulated the 5 years of detritus and, about two months ago, I finally (with the help of Robin) moved the desk out, in order to free the room up for my oldest to have his own bedroom. Since then ... very little has changed. The detritus is ... a bit tidier. I'm actually going to have to take a day of leave just to tidy a room satisfactorily. Thank goodness I'm a Civil Servant and I get more leave than work.

So, yeah, I've got some ideas. An article about detritus. Another article, stimulated by a chance meeting on Twitter that led to a chance meeting at the pub, on climate complexity. A weekly blog covering all the pubs in Hackney.

It will all have to wait. They want breakfast.

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And yes. They call themsleves Godalmingers.