Wednesday, 16 April 2014

chickens

Oops. Been a while. I'm sending a new book to my agent tomorrow. Apart from that, I have mainly been constructing impossible murders and wishing I had a different, slightly better knee.

This, which was sent to me by a hard core spy, tickled me.



A former baseball star was racially profiled in his own driveway. He didn't like it.

I love these or any pictures of cute girls hunting with eagles.

I'm reading The Sports Gene by David Epstein. There's a chapter about high jumpers, including midgety Swede Stefan Holm, who was my favourite of those even before I read this: Holm's son Melwin has begun to tag along. (Melwin is not a Swedish name. Holm and his wife liked 'Melvin' and Holm wanted 'win' somewhere in the boy's name.

Also, apparently, he's got some post-high-jump fame as a quizzer. I like that too.

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