2007 — 28 Mar: a (ceiling) rose by any other name
One day, I shall properly label the fuses in our switchbox downstairs, and we won't ever again have to pull them out one by one to see what goes off. Still, at least I know which circuit powers the server now. Though quite why the garage ceiling light (which Brian the plumber was repairing — don't ask) is powered by the upstairs lighting circuit remains a mystery.
This morning, unless I miss my guess, I predict1 my neighbour's head will be pounding slightly — what do you mean, "am I typing with a hammer over there?" The culprits include Laphroaig (which I'm told is pronounced "La-froyg" and which I've since learned means "the beautiful hollow by the broad bay"); it is deliciously smoke-tinged, is it not? The smokiness is caused, I also learn, by the smoke from the specific type of peat fire used to dry the malted barley. Whatever! When offered a glass of this nectar one does not spurn it, nor does one add anything2 to it, by the way.
Up on the roof department
Here's the roof decoration from that church in Ashley yesterday. First a little thumbnail — but there's a sting in the tail...
If you want to take a closer look be aware that it's a mite chunky.
...and a close-up of the UFO
Not bad for a hand-held telephoto shot from 40 feet below, heh?
In fishier news
Back from the past, I note that my local MP (who was apparently too busy to say or do anything, it seems, about the recent boundary change I noted here that moves3 me [one of his constituents] haplessly from Lib-Dem Eastleigh to probably about to be Tory Winchester) may have had a plausible excuse.
If today's Guardian is to be believed, young Christopher Huhne4 has been busily investigating the cost of inserting an "&" when changing the name Marine Fisheries Agency to Marine & Fisheries Agency (to reflect that doubtless splendid body's "extended remit"). The Diary's columnist amusingly reports that the cost of this "seismic semiotic shift" is a mere £5,000. Parliament may have a sole, but is no plaice for the indolent, I think!
Shelved, and soon forgotten
The best bit, when I'm distressed and in the middle of assembling the latest flat-pack wonder wooden item, is the knowledge that the horrible task cannot last forever. Today's example (finished to the soothing voice of Sophie Thompson reading one of her late father's translations of the stories from The Magic Roundabout on BBC Radio 4) has one shelf left over, and about two dozen woodscrews (for good, and unaccountable, reasons, respectively).