Sorry I haven’t been blogging much recently – I’m on the annual family holiday. We’re in Croatia, on one of those islands they’re terribly proud of, roasting like pigs on a spit. Truth is I’ve regularly surfed the papers online to find something interesting to write about, but the only thing that seems to be happening is people rowing or running or lifting things up and everybody getting themselves into an awful frenzy about winning things and there’s no other news at all.
That’s pretty much why we booked our holidays for these particular weeks; the overkill, the obsession, etc. The main Croatian TV channel shows nothing but Olympic stuff, although concentrates on the one sport which the former Yugoslav republics are good at – handball. As a consequence, there is always a grudge match – we arrived to Serbia versus Croatia, yesterday it was Croatia versus Montenegro. Incidentally, I wanted to take my boys hiking in the mountains on the mainland, but we cannot do this because I am told that they are mined (being the border with Bosnia).
So in lieu of topical commentary, let me share with you a joke told to me by my thirteen year old son, just to let you know how well he is being brought up.
Q. How do you make a plumber cry?
A. Kill his family.
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