Displacement, displacement, displacement
And yet again I find myself blogging because I don't want to be doing something else. In this case it is learning all about the European Court of Justice's approach to education and citizenship in order to write about it eruditely. It's Bank Holiday Monday, and I don't want to be erudite.
Get me, I sound about 14!
Hubby has been busying himself over the weekend by doing the gardening and getting a
long hose for the cleaning of the car. He has not cleaned the car though, because it rained instead (and excuse worthy of me, if ever I heard one).
The big news of the weekend though would be that the French have voted against the EU Constitution if (a) we didn't all know that they would, and (b) I couldn't top it with some more domestic, but more important news. Anyone reading this who has seen my house will know that the previous residents, to put it politely, had bloody awful taste. So the whole house needs decorating. But more than having bloody awful taste, they did such things that you can't simply scamper around with a tin of magnolia paint, a la House Doctor. No, no, such things as they did need time and effort (not to mention dosh) to undo. Like bricking up half a glass door without removing it first. Bright.
Hence my extreme glee when we tried to open the velux window in our bedroom (well, I didn't, but hubby did) and the horrid, horrid blind (and why would you have a blind that doesn't match anything, extends into the wardrobe, and it's impossible to open or shut) got yanked, undeliberately, off. I think that knocks the French into a cocked hat, personally. And means that we can see the stars when lying flat. If we happen to be looking in that direction.
Anyway, I feel that if education and an articule by Dora Kostakopoulou (great name) doesn't call, it ought to...
