God Save the Queen

I saw a documentary recently about life in North Korea. It all revolves around following the directions of The Glorious Leader, who really takes the whole dictatorship thing very seriously. He'll tell you what to think, what to say and even how to do your hair.

Though it's probably wiser to copy his own style if you really want the high brownie points.

North Korea has a six day working week, so life it pretty busy and full for the average worker. On the seventh day they are so filled with national pride that every one of them volunteers that day to completing worthy civic duties.

By all accounts, the population are falling over themselves in enthusiastic street cleaning, tending to civic gardens and parks, and painting and polishing monuments.

I imagine a whole lot of them might be busy practising for the annual Mass Games, where precision really is appreciated by The Glorious Leader. Which really made me wonder how they do it. Not the cleaning and synchronised displays of national supremacy. How do they fit in the rest of their lives? Not anything exciting, just the running the house, cooking, shopping stuff. Today I cleaned my house from end to end, did the washing and ironing, went to the supermarket, tended to some school work and cooked a nice paleo dinner. Most weekends at least half the time is spent on chores of some sort or other, setting me up for another week's busyness. I don't mind it, I like playing house, but it takes time. And it's also nice to have time for lazy alarm-free mornings, seeing friends and generally pottering. I can hardly fit it all into a two day weekend. I'd never make it in North Korea. 

I fear I would disappoint The Glorious Leader when I couldn't find the time to break out the Brasso to demonstrate my fervent love. Which is why I'm feeling so smug tonight. All the 'must do's are done and I still have the equivalent of a whole weekend up my sleeve.

God save the Queen, and all her heirs and successors.

Body Image

I'm pretty happy with my body, though it is showing the signs of dating from the chic 'mid-century retro' era that is so on trend in home decorating. Given ridiculous amounts of money I might be tempted to sample the delights of minor tweaking through botox, tummy tucks and face lifts, but there are other things I would splurge on way ahead of these if I had a less satisfactory lower division lotto win. I don't hanker at all for one of these ...

What the ...?

... or find this look in any way attractive ...

Shudder ...

... nor aspire to making even the smallest section of skin into a canvas.

Hate this twee crap even on walls ... at least it's not a skull ...

No, I'm pretty happy and there is one part of my body of which I have always been particularly proud. They have featured in an earlier blog post in all their gloriously seriated beauty, nature having blessed me with the built in satisfaction of tidy toes.

Like correctly ordered Cuisenaire rods, the staircases are complete. I'm not vain enough to suppose I have the world's most perfect toes, just fairly close. I have never seen a set I aspire to more than my own. While having them pampered recently I looked up to see a large poster of a set of toes which are apparently the industry standard. Has anyone, ever seen toes that look like these?

Do you suppose they photoshop toes?

I'm refering to the little toes. Does anyone really have little toes that are not snarled, twisted little specimens with barely a nail to paint? I think not! Luckily, I've got to where I am today without being burdened by extremes of body image dictated by the fashion industry and I won't be hiding my toes in shame or shelling out for 'phalange five enhancement' surgery. 

Good Looking

I know it's hard to believe, given my youthful good looks, energetic personality and upbeat outlook on life, but I am getting older. One of the side effects of growing a little middle aged is that people start to look like other people. I see the faces of friends in the faces of strangers and often have to pause to decide whether someone approaching is indeed someone I actually know or a mere doppelgänger. I tend to err on the side of caution and so I apologise to those who may think I have snubbed them. Recently this quirky feature of marvellous me ramped itself up to a whole new level. I have a wide and eclectic taste in television viewing and one of my favourites is Family Guy.

My favourite character is, of course, Stewie. 

In the spirit of one of my earliest television memories called "My Mother, the Car", there before me was Stewie ... spooky ...