Since I’m currently squashed under a big old pile of administrative tasks (well, planning my year’s classes – I don’t have a lot of classes but the planning function was missed out when my brain was assembled so this is a struggle for me) I thought – ‘Why write a proper post yourself, Helen, when you could just skim off the work of others and present it to anyone who still reads this blog who isn’t called Garcinia Something (I had to close the comments on the last post as Garcinia was flooding it with eulogies)?’ I intend to finish the planning next week, and then I’ll have much more time for writing here. I do realise that I have been writing ‘I’m just going to finish [this thing] and then I’ll post much more! Really!’ on and off for the last six months, but as ever I really mean it this time.
Anyway, first, What Editors are (Really) For. You might think this is comedy but it’s actually Fact.
Then, courtesy of litlove, here is Henri, a cat in existential crisis. I should like Henri to come and have a few words with Mister Puss, whose latest exercise in thuggish behaviour has been to kill a pigeon in the middle of the night and then creep into my little daughter’s bedroom and eat most of it very messily all over the floor. When rebuked he opened his eyes only to dart a look of contempt in my direction, and then fell asleep again. Henri, I feel certain, would never do anything so vulgar. He would be too busy contemplating the pigeon to act.
And finally, some pictures of the work of Walter Potter. But! If you are of a sensitive disposition and do not derive any pleasure from the sight of stuffed kittens and bunnies dressed up and placed in tableaux, do not click on the link. They’re odd and pathetic and ridiculous and slightly creepy; cutesy memento mori; anthropomorphism which becomes somehow exploitative and disrespectful. I’m amused and repelled. What about you?