... this lovely spring morning I find myself between two gaffers. The Squire, who is about to step up a league and play for North Devon doesn't want me to wake him prior to his Devon league debut down at Chagford and Ivor Thomas is crashed out on me pallets. Dilemma. Ivor has just flown in from Arabia, so jet lag and stuff, should I wake him. He does live in a shed in South West France, the Squire's sofa after a night flight from Abu Dhabi, followed by a few hours tripping the light fantastic in Bees, must feel like bliss. Not the first time the chap has ever done it, but considering the weather since he last departed, the day before the eruption of kbjorkumlatexmagnuspytl, I'd rather be up the Tors down Combe rather than some dust blown dodgy tourist trap. Apparently, the middle of the World is in the Emirates. A fool's paradise incarnate if you ask me. Bugger Greece, Spain and Portugal the f'ing Standard and Poors should issue a note against them. Of course it's different when you borrow money to build railways. hospitals, social services and education rather than constructing the most wonky bent hotel building in the world by construction firms who have decided not to invest in Greece, Portugal and Spain. The essential paradox of international capitalism. Should we build the worlds biggest bendy hotel or should we invest in Greek/ Spanish/ Portuguese infrastructure. Oh shit Standard and Poors issues a downer note about Iberia, let's not invest there, lets continue building the Worlds biggest, bendiest hotel while unemployment in Spain rises and projects are halted just because some fucking rabid capitalist fuckwit based behind a computer five thousand miles away from Madrid says so.
I found down the tip, using me Mum's five quid gift voucher, a Karl Marx book on historical materialism I think the bloke explains what is going on quite well
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