Scrabble October 8, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
I’m so cool I’ve accidentally got addicted to internet scrabble. Utterly addicted. Especially as this version of it panders to all your boyish little desires and gives you a ranking and everything. I see myself as scrabble’s Tim Henman, my ranking fluctuating wildly as I hit highs (beat a Federer-like scrabbler) and lows (lose in straight sets to another British player). But, I tell you, this internet scrabble site is the best thing to come out of Romania since the Dacia.
Actually, internet scrabble is sort of a substitute for blogging. When I should be working – like RIGHT NOW – my little virtual Romanian refuge is as cosy and welcoming as a snug old Berlin flat heated with coal-ovens. (This is the one compensation of the new freezingness. The streets smell of aga again.) But it’s taken on a worrying angle. Apart from the uncoolness, and occasionally being disturbed as the clock’s running down and having to shout frenziedly that I can’t talk now as I’ve still got a q to get rid of, it’s begun to take over. Just as I’d got into reading Nietzsche and thought I was about to turn into an intellectual. (I had even been planning a Nietzscheesque post entitled, “Why I write such a good blog.”) But, alas, no.
I suppose scrabble is poor man’s chess. Whereas I imagine Kasparov divides his time between wondering how to become Russia’s next president and how to perfect his Sicilian defence, I have visions floating around in front of me of how best to place a stubborn q. As Kasparov ponders whether he can conquer a computer that the best human minds have managed to concoct, I am tearing my hair out wondering whether I might beat Doris from Cleethorpes whose profile confides that she is 120 and also enjoys crochet and her Max Bygraves collection. Oh the ignominy! The ignominy! (Mind you, good word if you can get it over two triples with the m on the double letter score. 203. That’d show Doris.)