Hitler, retro clothing, whore, ice hockey

What tenuous thread links those things? Why; they're all in Aunty's brain today.

I'm reading a book called That Bad Man by Wickham Steed. It purports to be "a tale for the young of all ages", so that's fine. It's about Hitler. Hitler for kids, really; it was written in the 40s. It's marvellous. Thus far I've learned that Hitler's real name was Shicklgruber (which I confess I already know, thanks to Uncle-in-law-Lush), and that he (Hitler, not Uncle-in-law Lush) was by all accounts a lazy arsed bastard who failed at school to spite his parents, and couldn't even be bothered to work hard enough to earn enough money for board, so he arsed about doing nothing, and then slept rough.

It may be propaganda. I don't know. I'm only on page 9.

Retro clothing: my companion and I chanced upon a retro clothing fair. I say "chanced" - I knew when and where it was taking place. I had been avoiding it, for fear of buying every-bloody-thing. But then I happened to be in the town where it was on (I say "happened" - I drove there). Anyway; I bought nothing but tea and cake. Aren't I restrained?

Whore...oh yes, the football. I don't follow football. I don't pay much attention to fame-grabbing whores who sleep with married men and then sell the story. What amused me was the amount of coverage given to whether this whore's original partner would shake hands with the man who schtupped her. OF COURSE HE'S NOT. He knows where that hand has been.

Uncle Lush has been following the Olympics; I've wandered in and out of the room while it's been on. I watched five minutes of ice hockey today, and it was just splendid. Some poor chap took a stick in the face, then the goal fell on top of the goalie, who landed spreadeagled on the ice, as if he was saving the ice from the falling goal.

Wonderful. All in all, a good day.

Good evening, my loves.

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