thirty-first August

summer blues. 

it has been really muggy. 

this summer

As the little kid gets older, I'm becoming more tired.  I'm more exhausted than last year definitely.  

We've been through the naked truth -- the suicide atrocities in key major European cities,  the Brexit, the war on drugs in the Philippines.  

Can't this be a kinder world, like embodying the flame of the Olympic spirit?

I almost missed the Olympic Games.  And writing about sports gave me a sense of identity in my youth, most of the times elation on cheering the athletes defy gravity in gymnastics or run faster in the tracks. I still watch.  

Sports is not totally relegated to Twitter.  I can't  wait to bring the kid to the stands, in the Spurs or at Wembley for the NFL Europe.  

I would still sadly get sidetracked by reading too much analysis on human behaviour through social media rather than accomplish the house chores, or keep my surroundings neat and tidy. 

As I'm in Regent's Park at the mo, time to go home. Oh wait, the little girl wants to do more climbing!