Waves of folk from a vast array of this wonderful world's ethnicity's have just passed by my window, singly and in pairs, for the last twenty minutes; all of them wielding a black bin bag and a pair of tongs each, and wearing a yellow high-visibility waistcoats with something about a church written on the back. They must be doing a litter sweep, I suppose, but I can't report on that action having not seen any being picked up. Our street is, at the moment, wonderfully free from litter; the only detritus is that left by god himself, the fallen leaves of autumn. The churchy tong-wielders don't concern themselves with leaves.
When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was speak out loud the content of my dream: I can't decide if kisses are Xs or Zs. For that moment between sleep and wake this seemed like a vitally important distinction, and it seemed like an argument that had been raging for decades between sectarian camps of believers and dis-believers. This momentary thought seemed to have an entire history behind it, backed by the activities and thoughts of an entire world's population and culture. I'm over it now.
What other whimsical Sunday observations are there to be made? Oh I don't know... int it gettin dark early these days? What's music coming to? Where does the day get to? No, sorry, I'm just not feeling any of those. Oh, here we go, here's something almost worth mentioning. There was a dreadful film on this afternoon about some sexy women dressed as school girls and something something man in a dress something something Stephen Fry something something girl with a pearl earring. It was called St. Trinian's. It was on in the background being watched by my partner and occasionally glanced at by me. Meanwhile I was at the computer reading Comment is Free and all that sort of stuff.
I relented and eventually moved onto the sofa to eat my soup and watch the end of X-Factor, but again my attention was short. I pulled a book, The Illustration Handbook, off the nearest shelf and opened it random with the intention of looking at some drawings. A black ink drawing of a cat towering over a city – The Coming of the Great Cat God – with a red and yellow glowing sky, caught my attention. It was by Ronald Searle, and I began reading about him in the text beside the image. When I got to the sentence "...however, he is more famous for having created the St. Trinian's schoolgirls in his books Hurrah for St Trinian's [etc]..." I yelped with surprise. Coincidence spotting seems to be becoming a minor hobby of mine.