This morning I am a bit disappointed that once again a man with a British passport has been tortured in Guantanamo and nobody seems to give a fuck. There is some minor outrage on the Channel 4 news and the Guardian newspaper, but they are notoriously liberal hand wringers, and can therefore be safely ignored.
Most papers are of the opinion that if we moan about our citizens being tortured by one of our allies then the Americans will reduce the level of co-operation with our intelligence services. I would hate to see a bomb go off in London because the Americans were too busy playing political games to tell us, and I don’t really believe that would ever happen. Maybe the real reason no one cares is that the man was a brown man.
The baby has no opinion on the human rights of alleged Islamic terrorists. She is too busy perfecting a high-pitched squeal, which is new, and thrashing wildly, which is already standard procedure. She still won’t feed from a bottle, though ever morning as I sit here trying to read the papers online I try to give a little milk that Lynne has expressed the night before. Instead of quietly lying in the crook of my arm and feeding, the baby chews the teat on the bottle, growling, jerking her head about and flailing like a lunatic. It’s like fighting with a dog over a slipper.
So as far as bottle feeding is concerned I think the game’s a bogey. Yesterday I bought the baby a cup and today, now that it is washed and sterilised, I will try to feed her with that.
Most papers are of the opinion that if we moan about our citizens being tortured by one of our allies then the Americans will reduce the level of co-operation with our intelligence services. I would hate to see a bomb go off in London because the Americans were too busy playing political games to tell us, and I don’t really believe that would ever happen. Maybe the real reason no one cares is that the man was a brown man.
The baby has no opinion on the human rights of alleged Islamic terrorists. She is too busy perfecting a high-pitched squeal, which is new, and thrashing wildly, which is already standard procedure. She still won’t feed from a bottle, though ever morning as I sit here trying to read the papers online I try to give a little milk that Lynne has expressed the night before. Instead of quietly lying in the crook of my arm and feeding, the baby chews the teat on the bottle, growling, jerking her head about and flailing like a lunatic. It’s like fighting with a dog over a slipper.
So as far as bottle feeding is concerned I think the game’s a bogey. Yesterday I bought the baby a cup and today, now that it is washed and sterilised, I will try to feed her with that.
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