2008 — 7 Feb: Thursday, and I didn't notice the time!

Time is 00:55 and I've heard from a spy that IBM emails exist containing text such as "iSIG exists to enable a group of IBM Hursley staff to develop and employ techniques for ideation1 and structured thinking, allowing them greater personal satisfaction and performance in their jobs." Isn't that just plain horrible? Wonder if they need any writers?

Tasks complete, time (02:05) for bed, methinks. By the way, that Family Guy parody of "Star Wars" is most enjoyable. The DVD extras are good, too, including an interview with George Lucas — what a nice chap!

Timing is everything... dept.

It's 09:24 and in goes the brekkie. Postie has done his round, and failed to stop at my door (though I know that Ratatouille is wending its way through the system). This morning I'm predicting a small round2 of supplies shopping, the returning of yesterday's Mighty Oath to the bank's solicitor (another Special Delivery as, once again, the stuffed envelope contains Christa's original Will) and finally trickling over to Winchester in time to pick up the three passengers I'm also specially delivering to the monthly MQ lunch. How people who are still at work manage to cram such activities into the daily round is a total mystery.

Speaking of supplies, it's imperative (from time to time) to renew my supply of that vital food group, chocolate one-sided digestives — so much a steady feature of my diet over many years that the family name for them in these parts became "Daddy biscuits" so Junior knew what to fetch! Here, you can see that amazing hunter gatherer back in June last year, clutching the latest pack:

Christa and my biscuits
Christa and my biscuits, June 2007

Still, at least it isn't yet pouring with rain. Did I mention that some of her daffodils are now already out, in both the front and back gardens? <Sigh>

BBC Radio 3 is playing the piece of music (In Nature's realm, Op.91) Dvorak wrote to celebrate his honorary degree from Cambridge in 1900; it just used a riff direct from the "New World"!

White Van Man?

This morning's little contretemps at the traffic lights at the end of Chalvington road left me slightly shaken but unstirred. I wonder (idly) at what point the continuing devolutionary spiral of White Van Man will render him unable3 to reproduce his kind due to miniscule intelligence and grossly unattractive behaviour? Can't be much longer, surely! Next stop: Winchester.

Safely back

From an enjoyable MQ Lunch at the Empress of Blandings whose little brochure shows a hitherto unsuspected maritime variant of Salisbury:

Empress of Blandings

Given one of the topics of conversation — evolutionary psychology — I refer my fellow diners here.

Tonight's culinary experiment...

What a good job I read the instructions! Hence, at just after 16:00, the tray containing tender cubes of British beef feather4 steak and veg (leeks, button mushrooms, white onions with the extra secret ingredient of a few sliced carrot babies [plus, daringly, a sliced plum] is already now cooking at Gas mark 4 for 30 minutes before I pour the sachet of "rich & creamy Cropwell Bishop Stilton® braising sauce"5 over the mix, stir it, cover it with foil (I'm assuming tin [or is it actually aluminium?]) and pop the whole lot back in the oven for another 90 minutes. I don't need to zap the baby potatoes, however, until much nearer the point of consumption. I just hope the aromas I predict will be wafting up from this culinary chemistry lab stimulate the digestive juices to the point where I then feel hungry at the "correct" time. Now, if only I had (or could recognise) some broccoli florets I'd be following their serving suggestion to the letter (well, apart from the plum and the carrots).

"Easy to cook" it says on the Waitrose packaging. Consumer report to follow. What's that (nice) smell?
Update: well, in my opinion, the carrots and that plum made all the difference! Technically, it was a beef and stilton casserole. I skipped the potatoes and went with a basic slice of unbuttered bread instead. A trick picked up on Shapinsay in the summer of 1959.

It's enough to make you sick... dept.

Try this "Global Incident Map". Supposedly, it tracks terrorism events and other suspicious activity.

It's time (19:44) to switch off...

... the brain, so I think I will go downstairs and watch the second film in the Matrix trilogy for only the second time. Perhaps it will make more sense this time? (I've already been offered the third one on loan to complete the experience.)

It's enough to make you well... dept.

By the end of Christa's horrible cancer "journey" I had personally reached the conclusion that, should a proponent of the drivel that is Intelligent Design cross my path, and enter into any discussion that attempted to explain or justify Christa's loathsome illness, he or she would very likely get his or her unintelligently-designed pinhead ripped off. Here's a delicious blog whose authors I applaud.

  

Footnotes

1  You have to shudder at a word like that, surely. Mind you, I was shown a recent episode of "University Challenge" a couple of days ago and found myself sympathising with Paxo's disparaging comments about the educational level of some of his contestants. They were not exactly full of ideation(s)!
2  (This) man cannot live by bananas alone, in the fruit department — or not, at least, rely on them to liven up the Oatibix brick to the point of edibility.
3  He's already unable to distinguish between the colours red and green, and cannot grasp the concept of waiting patiently in a queue.
4  Frankly, I don't want to ask.
5  "It's gravy, Jim, but not as we know it!" And they could have warned me that, although the saucy bit pours easily (indeed, splashily eagerly) the Stilton bit needs to be extruded quite carefully. My sense of humour (which is capable of pitch darkness at times) reminds me of an analogous process, but my social censor circuitry forbids me to describe it.