I’ve just recently finished reading Dreams From My Father, by Barack Obama. It is, by far, the best autobiography I’ve read. For the most part, auto-bio’s are a little dull. There’s the odd interesting anecdote, but that’s all. This is the opposite. Barack has had a very interesting life – and the book was written in 1994, so there’s much more to come after that. He describes in wonderful detail his struggles to deal with his absent father, and finding his own identity as a black man, raised by a white mother, living amongst various struggles in society. I’m going to read The Audacity of Hope at some point, and must say I hope this man lives up to all of our expectations and changes the world. He’s quite something
On a more personal note, I was cooking on Thursday evening and texting my brother at the same time. I put my phone down on the kitchen worktop, and then reached for a jar of paprika, which fell straight down on my phone and cracked the screen. I’d had this phone for two days. Two days! Of all the places that paprika had to fall, it was in that exact spot. But, after watching comic relief last week and seeing some of the scenes in Africa, I’m not going to dwell on my phone misfortune. In fact, it’s not really a misfortune at all, is it?