there’s nothing to explain, in every life a little rain

Another of those misty Cape Town mornings in which the peninsula has clearly woken up, rolled over in bed, thought "bugger all these seasonal expectations, anyway", and huddled itself down into a comforting shroud of gentle rain, soft skies and a drifting sea fog forming a separate layer below the clouds, like a sheet under a duvet. Come to sunny Cape Town! Bring umbrella.

My image clusters this morning suggest that actually I'd also rather be back in bed. Fair comment. I'm a bit fragile because Sid the Sinus Headache is trying to make a comeback, which I'm ruthlessly undermining from within via a cynical media campaign, using my tabloid agents Lots of Vitamins and Stv's High-Chilli-Quotient Thai curry. The gin/chardonnay combination which accompanied the Thai food last night may also be contributing its mite to the rather-be-in-bed stakes, admittedly. Other than that, of course, the weather is making me predictably happy, and the Monday billboards were particularly entertaining:

TIGER NOW 6 OVER PAR
Poor Tiger's indiscretions are inevitably doomed to give rise to more, and more horrible, bad golfing puns than one would have believed humanly possible. There's a sort of unctuous schadenfreude in it, too - his media image is so much Nice Young Man that the tabloids seem to be deriving a compensatory pleasure in shredding him.

RONALDO REMOVES SHIRT!
I love the complete inconsequentiality of this. Undoubtedly there's an actual incident behind it, but it simply begs to be ramified into a whole string of similar incidents: OBAMA HAS CUP OF COFFEE! BRAD PITT CLEANS TEETH! PARIS HILTON WEARS PANTS!

And, finally, memorably,
GUBAI DUBAI!
Alas Dubai, someone popped your bubble, which was frankly always an absurdly overblown and self-indulgent bubble, anyway. Gubai indeed.