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yesterday evening i did my usual 26km cycling round just before sundown and at pizzey park i came across two kids with two dogs, one leashed and one not (the dogs, of course). and just as expected the unleashed oversized rat (something terrier-like) had to decide that i'm an Evil Menace Who Must Be Hunted Down.

so the damn thing raced me down the track, barking and growling continuously and jumped around my bike, always very close to being run over. stupid bugger - if i had hit it, it surely would have sustained more damage than me.

eventually one of the two kids cycled after us and hauled the megalomaniac critter away.

Can you think of something more ridiculous than this? Imagine: a cyclist riding up to a traffic light, not getting out of his clipless pedals in time and falling over like a drunk chicken.
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This Sunday Conny is going to run her first marathon, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for her. Go Girl, GO!

Am I proud of her? No - because pride doesn't apply here, at least the way I see the concept of 'pride'.

• First, I haven't got anything to be proud of here: it's all her achievement and not mine. I've done my half 16 years ago to cause her existence in the first place, but she is her own person and does her things (or not).
• Second, running isn't something I could have shown her as a lovable exercise - I don't like it at all myself, and I'm a very inept runner and much prefer a bicycle (which I consequentially do a lot more of and more readily and happily - the last two months I've been doing a 25km round almost every day).
• Third, she's doing something that I can't do. So I'm a tad envious of her ;-)

But I'm really very happy for her, and I find it great that she likes running and does well at it.

So, Conny: Good Luck! I hope you have a good time and enjoy your marathon - which I'm sure you will, especially once it's over :-)

Today I saw the following photo (funny: on a russian blog)

and found it really captivating, more so than the classic photo of Sharbat Gula (the 'Afghan Girl' on the NGS magazine cover).

And digging a little deeper, there's quite a lot of story here: the photographer, Lewis Hine did some remarkable work on child labour in the USA before WW1 - only to be shunned later on, and to die in poverty.

Eventually I found larger versions of this photo at the Library of Congress together with the original caption:

One of the spinners in Whitnel Cotton Mfg. Co. N.C. She was 51 inches high. Had been in mill 1 year. Some at night. Runs 4 sides, 48 cents a day. When asked how old, she hesitated, then said "I don't remember." Then confidentially, "I'm not old enough to work, but I do just the same." Out of 50 employees, ten children about her size. (Dec 1908)

Most of these photos and their subjects would be forgotten today if it weren't for Joe Manning who dug up lots of history on many of these kids' later life - amongst others, the story of Cora Lee Griffin.

i hate having neighbours close by, or sharing a wall. more specifically, i hate my neighbours except for A+M+M, but the others more than make up for those good people.

i hate the goddamn noisy brats - there's a difference between 'happy kids' and 'loud tantrum-throwing fucks', and i don't mind the former at all.

the rest, they can all die as far as i'm concerned, and soon, please.