2007 — 30 September: Autumn will not be denied
Cool rain is definitely a harbinger. Hope it doesn't wash the "L" plates off the car. Morning meds and breakfast going onboard (09:04) as I type. In fact, I should nip down to get the steroids1 before She finishes munching. What shall I make for myself, I wonder? Meanwhile, the Panasonic DVD recorder is (happily, I hope) capturing all three parts of Armando Iannucci's BBC4 series Comics Britannia from the Humax for me to cut to a DVD-R in due course. (I need space on said Humax for the remainder of The Sopranos, don't I?)
Frying tonight!
I watched the marvellous, and very moving (repeated) programme about Stephen Fry researching his maternal grandfather's history, and I expect we'll watch it together tonight — She was still hooked on the 1870/71 "round the world" diary2 last night, I'm happy to report, but has now finished it, in lieu of a crossword on a Sunday hereabouts. Click the pic.
For Her next treat, I've unearthed Memoirs of a station master first published anonymously in 1879 under the title Ernest Struggles. The author was Hubert A Simmons, born in Twyford in 1839, and he gives us an entertaining worm's-eye view of the Great Western Company.
Mirror, signal,... watch out!
Today, twice, I pootled the car gently round a remote-ish corner of the gigantic Asda car park for all of five minutes at a time — I must remember to release the handbrake, methinks. But I haven't sat behind the wheel of a car since I was 17, so I didn't do too badly. And haven't clutches improved in the last forty years or so? But now it's Time for Her Tea: to add to Her salad and ghastly cheese roll bread thingy, a special Mounce scrambled egg the making of which, strangely, has turned out to be one of my overlooked talents. Must be the dash of double cream I add to the mix. We Mounces just fly in the face of calories, you know.