I think that this terrace will be good for writing. That’ll be especially true in the mornings when the sun hasn’t quite moved around the villa to give the patio its afternoon heat.
It’s been a waiting game the past couple of days; today, I’m having some furniture delivered – a comfortable sofa that’ll be perfect for World Cup viewing and a dining room table and chairs. The fabulous handyman (who fixed the electric gate yesterday) returns to inspect the hot-tub that’s been out of action for years. And the pool man keeps an eye on his work in progress. The pool turns bluer by the day.
I spent much of yesterday trying to catch up on Sonic Breakfast E-mails. With 7,000 unread in the inbox this is quite a task. I barely made a dent in the unread number but did listen to some fabulous tunes that have been sent my way.
Ancestry by Afrikan Boy (featuring aJan) was one of the stand-outs. I’ll always be drawn to tunes with a message that are delivered with dollops of exasperated humour. Afrikan Boy ticks those boxes as he exposes the ridiculousness of the current ‘DNA’ fad, widely advertised on daytime TV. For an obscene amount of money, rogue scientists will analyse your blood, spit, sweat or faeces and tell you where your genes originate from. I guess that for some people this is the sort of thing that matters?
What I do (sort of) like about ancestry websites is how such tests can blow the most fervent of racists out of the water. The mischief-maker in me would love to be a fly on the wall when your average UKIP supporter gets the devastating news that they hail from Europe.
But these sites are pernicious. They’re selling a potential identity to people who aren’t comfortable with the one they have. I’ve got no such interest myself in knowing where my ancestors originate from.
And it would appear that I share this feeling with Afrikan Boy who playfully experiences all sorts of identity crises within his banger of a tune before ultimately concluding that it’s hogwash. The accompanying website (here) is worth having a scout around as well.
“I am not an Athenian or a Greek, I am a citizen of the world“, wrote Socrates many moons ago. And yet still that search for ancestry goes on.