Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

You've heard of reporters without borders, right? Well now the Guardian's getting in on the act, deftly highlighting its internationalism.

From today's top five most read articles comes this little thing about travel in the US. And look, there's not one single spelling mistake, which must be some kind of record. But then it is by an AP writer, which might explain the other thing, instead print the unread.

Obviously the Guardian have figured out the concept of editing is intrinsically fascist, creating autocratic control and autarkic content, and thus seek to eschew such bland, uniform and biased products by printing the unread.

And that's been the highlight for today, as I've spent most of it trying not to sneeze; my nose is producing more precipitation than the sky of late (although it's now cruelly mocking me, as the weather is being irrefutably, if fleetingly, sunny). And I've just noticed that I appear to have a set of Russian dolls on my windowsill, except closer inspection suggests they're just tissues in varying degrees of bundled sogginess.

Other recent slightly-beyond-the-ordinary activities include using an eons old HMV voucher (which is so much more use than a wind up torch, which winds up the user more than it needs to be, although having said that it needs about five minutes winding to last a bit over one, yet the flashing LEDs last for days on the same charge. Not that I'm commenting on the relative value of Christmas presents from a certain relative).

Acquisitions include Withnail and I on DVD, although I've discovered why it was so cheap at £2.99*; it's because they've forced it into the wrong aspect ratio (think Monty. Think Monty widened), so I watched it with about an inch of Gmail showing through along the edge.

* Which of course is not cheap, but then HMV also charge £14.99 for a film which was given away in the Guardian.

The other buys were The Graduate, because it was marginally cheaper than it was in Virgin's offer; The Italian Job, because it too was cheaper, and because sometimes you just need to watch the sacrilege of a JCB versus very nice cars (I of course refer solely to the proper version, not the ought-to-have-Madonna-in-it remake); and Memoirs of a Geisha because it was three quid and I wanted a book to read, and have been waiting for years to borrow it.

And ought I be able to recognise the Goonies from twenty paces solely from the sound effects? Still didn't buy it though, not having quite enough money to fully regress, and feeling a bit guilty about spending money on needless things like food and accompanying subra-mesa*. And anyway, it'll always be on at Christmas/HMV.

* Or "sobre mesa" according to Google. Literally meaning over-the-table, it's the chat or gossip which comes naturally after food and probably alcohol (although probably not enough of the latter that it becomes what I originally translated it as: under the table).

What else? I've been overdosing on classical music recently. Partly because having my brain running alongside the musical patterns helps keep the rest of it awake when I'm doing work somewhere in early tomorrow. Partly because have literally copy-and-pasted someone else's entire classical musical collection, I'm still very poor at recognising it. Partly as a result of trying to educate someone else in classical music (having decided they weren't quite ready for Radiohead. Which reminds me: Radiohead covers. Unless there's a word after those two, mentioning a Bond theme or something, they should never be used in conjunction. I can't even remember the name of the guy who Radio 1 are inflicting on the nation, but it simply is not good. But even Classic FM are in on the act, playing a muzaked up version of Street Spirit. They purportedly played it to show the complexity and ingenuity of the music, yet they played a watered down version. Is Radiohead too much for the feeble listeners of Classic FM to bear?). Partly because I watched Brief Encounter recently (never tell someone TESOLed that it's a superb film, as without Coward, it's not quite as great), and thus have had Rachmaninov's Second Piano Concerto playing since (and I might have begun to understand Ryan's fixation with it).

Sorry, there was a thunderstorm so I've forgotten where all this was going and what else there was to say. Anyway, today's unanswerable question, which isn't unanswerable, and one of you may very likely know the answer, although given past experience you equally may not, and no one ever answers these anyway, so there is not terribly much point in asking it, but having said that I will because I'm obstinate like that: Where are the following words*?
In memory of my unrealised potential
1981-1997

* In that order, so no facetious answers about the nearest branch of Waterstone's. And it would help if I wrote the quote, not what I might have written in the same place - corrected now.

Oh hell, this bit [of Rachman 2] is getting to me. As I'm not sure I can pretend that the pressure in my eyes is simply trying not to sneeze, I'd better go.

Anyhoo,