2007 — 10 October: rather dull-looking Wednesday

Time now (09:20) and I confess to having had a bit of a lie-in. Nearly all meds are onboard and some of the crossword has been tackled, along with a lengthy report on all this pre-budget stuff. Time to get my own brekkie — Hers always comes first, of course.

Today's first adventure

No idea at this stage. Perhaps rip a CD or two? Perhaps perform some electrical lighting shenanigans up in the loft? Maybe even get some snailmail1 delivered?! Who can say what devilry lurks in the heart of a retired Mounce?

Preliminary digging around in the garage has unearthed quite a few useful bits of mains wire. I have at least two bayonet socket bulb holders that I can fix safely to rafters and I have about three decade's worth of cable clips. I have "duck" and insulating tape aplenty. I lack a few terminal blocks, but that's what Robert Dyas is for, is it not? Heck, I even have a 1981 "Which?" Book of DIY to consult to remind me that an overdose of electrons can be injurious. Or, at least, a bit of a nerve jangler.

But now it's time for a spot of lunch.

Baby won't you come on home?... department

I can still remember the sense of mild outrage I felt at being described (at the ripe old age of 14)...

DCM in 1965

... as a bambino by an Italian2 waitress. It seems a more modern term, for a rather older bambino, is bamboccioni. I also fell in love, but that's an entirely different story!

Tmesis... department

This place is going to be like Picca-bleedin'-dilly Circus3 come Saturday; Junior arrives on Friday evening (both to see how we are, and to pick up his new car since we should ourselves get our new car earlier that day), and Big Bro has just called from London to announce his arrival here on Saturday for lunch, before shooting off up to what my neighbour always calls the mucky Midlands to visit the Aged P and then setting off for Boston on Sunday. And if that weren't enough, I turn 56 on Sunday. What larks, Pip ol' chum, what larks!



1  Last week's New Statesman for example.
2  In the summer of 1965, (Easter, to be exact, but it was so blazingly hot it certainly felt like summer to this little Englander) when I accompanied my parents on a holiday (my first trip abroad) to Turin and Sestri Levante.
3  If, like me at one time, you're uncertain what "tmesis" is, you're now safely past it! (I had a manager in ICL who was a past master of the art, albeit unconsciously.)