not a post about Michael Jackson

It’s sad when anyone dies, particularly before their time. Michael Jackson’s death was sad, as was much of his life, as I see it, but it kinda leaves me cold.

I could see he was something of a dancer, and a very talented musician, very young, but when it comes down to it I just don’t like his music. I never have, never will. Even “Billie Jean” which everyone seems to love, just strikes me as a bit tinny.

Anyway, it’s also sad about Farrah Fawcett, Victoria’s third swine-flu victim and all the thousands of people who die every day in the third world.

Grumpy
I’m slightly grumpy today, as you may have guessed. The damn cold I had ages ago is still going, and has now ensconced itself in my lungs. I don’t want to make it worse, so I haven’t run since Monday. Given the marathon is Sunday week, I’m getting concerned.

I know I’m supposed to taper, but this is ridiculous.

I know I shouldn’t make too much of this, but I’m secretly seething. Outside I am my normal debonair self, but inside I’m raving like a foul-mouthed Tasmanian devil.