I called in sick to work because DrBob took the car to Munich Thursday night so I would have had to either walk to the train station or ask Mrs Next Door to drive me there (with her brand-new tiny baby) and then I would have been on the train, which is its own kind of excruciating. Okay, I'm blithering. Upshot = I'm better than I was, but still too sick to take on the kind of activity that getting to work and doing my job would have required. And now it's late and I better get to bed, but I haven't blogged today, so I'm gonna fob you off with another annoying Eurovision retrospective.
Ah, the one and only Cliff Richard. He sang Congratulation for England in 1968. Didn't win, but it was a massive hit in Britain anyway. And I could forgive this song if it were like 1952, because they didn't know any better then. But 1968? He was sort of the "Elvis of England" (i.e., about that famous), which honestly? Makes me kind of sad. We got Elvis, they got Cliff (who later sang the Lord's Prayer to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, in public, for which he is surely going to Hell), and they still think they are culturally superior to us.
Of course, that last snarky sentence can be contradicted into oblivion with two little words. They rhyme with Flonty Squython. Hey, I never claimed to be consistent.