Of bards, boys and birds.

We are studying 'Hamlet'. I am geeking out on the textual studies geekery of it.


I want. Not fond of this unhealthy obsession with the EPL, although so many of my favourite players are there. Butbut Scottish, Dutch and French league matches! I haff neffer seen those! Now if only someone would show some Bundesliga and Liga Argentina... Oh who am I kidding. I barely ever have time to watch anything, much as I'd love to. And it is frustrating to watch footer on tv anyway, imagine myopic eyes swimming in a sea of icklebickle pinpickle, and the camera whorishly following the ball even though it's almost as much fun to watch one of the goalies keep himself awake at the far end... And I still haven't decided whom to make that subversively fruity Project Objectify (a.k.a Hot Male Athletes Are Just That) post on. Aishwarya decided on Rafael Nadal, he-who-is-too-young, and Supriya on Thierry Henry, who is like an ice dancer except on grass not ice and with a ball not skates. Um.


Um. Yes. So. In my frivolous froufrouey way, the only news I will comment on has little to do with war, horror and woe, not because I don't care or have my head under sand or anything, but because this blog is now officially frothcentric. Until the next white-hot feminist rant, at any rate. The news is this: a new bird species has been discovered in India, specifically in Arunachal Pradesh. It has been named the Bugun Liocichla and it is most darling to behold, assertively coloured (guessing the picture in the paper is of a male) and spiky-capped. I read also that it has a beguiling song. How lovely is the loveliness. There doesn't seem to be too many of them, which is a situation that one hopes will change. If only there were incentive packages for the reproduction of birds, eh? (I think that rant is about to explode on to this blog very soon.)