Nice Feelings

Middle names are important, particularly for rousing on people with. My son's middle name is Salvador, and it rolls off the tongue supremely well in phrases like "SAGE SALVADOR! DO NOT JUMP ON MAMA'S HEAD! MAMA IS TIRED! MAMA IS HAVING A LITTLE REST! WHERE IS DAD-DAD?"

O has no middle name. As a poor substitute I sometimes insert "NO MIDDLE INITIAL", but it just doesn't resonate with me, you know?

My two bestest friends have superb middle names - Katie Veronica and Catherine Joy. Mine is dull old "Ann", the most boring middle name in the whole world and not even graced with an "e".

- brief musical interlude -

Katie Veronica, at one time in her life, would bottle up her feelings all day and then have them in a big rush as she was lying in bed at night. Not a great way to get to sleep.

On the other hand, I've been thinking that a little emotional restraint wouldn't do me any harm. I'm a cancer, known for ridiculous over emotionalism and a sneaking tendency to disbelieve that anyone else actually has an emotional life.

So I have decided to be nicer, and through such niceness, to create greater niceness in my life. Which in practice means I have to get out the dusty zafu and go to my goddam boxing classes. (Actually, the boxing classes are a corker. The teacher is an ex travelling tent boxer, tiny little bloke with a walking stick and a tracksuit that says "Coach". He teaches at the police boys' club, screaming incomprehensibly while we all run around like dingbats with gloves on. The soundtrack is comprised largely of AC/DC. No-one wears lycra, but it does smell a bit.)