Struggling through a 1000-page cultural history of Germany, (written by a Brit aware the war is over) I wandered into the chapter on Emanuel Kant. This guy is the real deal, a proper genius thinker. I'd like to tell you about some of his ideas - they went in one ear and out the other, but they made a lot of sense on the way.
One of the few advantages of being hemibavarian is that you get to correctly pronounce Kant in mixed company, and they can't touch you for it.
Last night I caught up with Cap'n Kevin. It was happy hour, in a pub where they brew their own weissbier. I got plastered too quickly and started to slur, making even less sense than usual. Fortunately Kev was equally incoherent, and we had a fun evening talking shite.
The day before, I spent the afternoon with one of the best conversationalists ever. A woman, naturally. We used to share an office until we fell out a few years back. There's been much water under the bridge, and now we're best chums again. We were in a cafe full of media celebs - we were almost the only normal people there.
One afternoon wasn't long enough to talk about everything, so we planned part two in a few weeks.
The cellmate's boy is staying here just now. Today was her birthday, so as a special treat she was allowed to cook a special birthday breakfast for the two men in her life. My brother rang on Skype, so he was able to watch the present-unwrapping on video. The cellmate likes puzzles, but even she had trouble deciphering some of the presents from Albert.
For example, this was cheapskate Albert's promise to take her out for a meal. Can you guess what's on the menu?