Friday the 14th July 14, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
Tags: Eurovision, work
Darlings, I’ve got a major oodle of work to do at the moment, so expect my blogging to increase about tenfold in quantity until next week’s deadline.
To my horror, as I sat down to ignore my work as studiously as I could this morning, I noticed that it was Friday the 13th. As I thought nothing untoward was actually likely to happen, I thought perhaps I’d better scald myself deliberately with coffee or set my hair on fire again, but then I realised I just hadn’t moved the calendar on a notch and that it was actually the 14th after all. Phew!
So how to avoid work without having the option of leaving the house? To pretend I’m working, I’ve opened the software necessary for every modern translator. It costs a fortune, just to make sure the job is a little bit less pleasant, and tends to slow down the work, if anything, but that’s progress for ya. In any case, like blogger, it’s big and blue, so I can brandish it on the workbench, or whatever that computery word is, if ever I’m interrupted. (“Look, I’m working!”) Well, I’ve visited every page on the internet already. But no, at times like this, it has to be Eurovision and fingering my way through some glorious old videos. If you follow my advice and go to the link, click on multimedia lounge, then on video, you’ll be able to watch this year’s entries, 14 past winners and various clipettes from over the years. The 14 – to match the utterly auspicious date, no doubt – provide some pretty glorious moments. There’s Abba, of course. Then Sertab Erener, Turkey’s only ever winner. And Dana International, the Israeli transsexual who – surprise, surprise – caused a bit of a scandal back in the homeland.
But it’s the French-speaking world wot wins it. France Gall is so sweet and innocent – representing Luxembourg, and not France – that you might even want to shed a tear. (Innocence was a bit of a thing with her, it seems. Was she not happy at singing a song by M. Gainsbourg which she thought was about lollipops and was, in fact, about blow-jobs.) But just LOOK at Céline Dion munt for Switzerland in a wicked perm and wearing a dirty old bit of net curtain. She looks like she hasn’t been home for the night. And why Switzerland? Isn’t Quebec still a territoire d’outre-mer? Couldn’t she just have sung for France, to make up for Luxembourg Gall’s oversight?
OK, 1pm. Time to take a break from working for now. A long lunch, perhaps…