fings wot are great or not great

Great: London. I love the fact that there's one road, and only one road, in the city where cars drive on the right. I love the fact that in 1738 40 people were recorded as having "Horseshoehead and Water in the Head" as their cause of death. 50 people dying of "Colick, Gripes and Twisting of the Guts" might be even better. 1 person dying from "Rising of the Lights" might be better still, and another as "Choaked with Fat" might top them all. I love this 1801 quote from Charles Lamb:

I have passed all my days in London, until I have formed as many and intense local attachments, as any of your Mountaineers can have done with dead nature. The Lighted shops of the Strand and Fleet Street, the unnumerable trades, tradesmen and customers, coaches, waggons, playhouses, all the bustle and wickedness round about Covent Garden, the very women of the Town, the Watchmen, drunken scenes, rattles;--life awake, if awake, at all hours of the night, the impossibility of being dull in Fleet Street, the crowds, the very dirt & mud, the Sun shining upon houses and pavements, the print shops, the old Book stalls, parsons cheap'ning books, coffee houses, steams of soup from kitchens, the pantomimes, London itself a pantomime and a masquerade, all these things work themselves into my mind and feed me without a power of satiating me. The wonder of these sights impells me into night walks about the crowded streets, and often I shed tears in the motley Strand from fulness of joy at so much Life.

And I love The Book Of Lists - London for teaching me those things and more.

Not great: the film Bloodsport. It's appalling. So, so bad. It was on Channel 5 last night and I watched it all, at once repelled and morbidly fascinated. The two redeeming features (and fighters) are Jean-Claude Van Damme and Bolo Yeung, easily the only guys capable of doing a half-decent fight scene -- yet the final fight between the two was as bad as, if not worse than, all the dross that had gone before. There were montages aplenty. There was shocking 80s electro-pop of the worst gee-up kind. There was pained anguish worthy of Calculon. There were outfits that I want to be able to programme my television not to show. Oh my gosh. I can't wait until I see this film again. Drunk.

Great: The lyrics to The Zutons' It's The Little Things We Do.

Not great: my week. I've broken many many things at work. Important things. Granted I've fixed them too, but still. I got called out last night, which isn't so bad, but having 3 other people get called out because of something I'd done doesn't make me overly popular. And I was in a fucking appalling mood all day Monday and most of Tuesday too, really depths-of-loathing stuff.

Great: the last paragraph of my brother's blog entry about farting in lifts.

Not great: having my plans for Saturday ruined by South West Trains and their engineering works. And being unable to get to Cambridge before 11am sensibly on Sunday.