2008 — 28 Feb: Thursday; happy birthday, Georg!
Georg is the younger of Christa's two brothers. He is 64 today, I believe. Time just keeps on carrying on, doesn't it?
It's 01:42, and after eight episodes of "Studio 60" I am completely captivated (and not just by Amanda Peet). Trivia question, for answering without recourse to IMDB: in what film did she feature opposite Matthew Perry, who had a down-in-the-mouth rôle?
Here's a picture that's been pinned to the kitchen cork-board for probably the last seven years or more:
Tiny confession: the version now on the page has had some camera parallax distortion removed (or, at least, ameliorated) versus the version I first published. I tell you, no digital camera user should be without this incredible (Photoshop) software!
Weighty matters
All that talk of food yesterday, and now I've just read an interesting piece about (mostly computer-mediated) social networks and their potential link to the "obesity epidemic". Will you be my (Stuff my Face)book friend, indeed? John Brunner skirted around the edges of some of this in his amazing book Stand on Zanzibar1 all those years ago. Dare I say it's time (10:09) for some brekkie? Well, as I reel from the weighty philosophical lyrics of the current REM track (Supernatural superserious: Everybody here comes from somewhere) I guess it must be.
Consuming passions... dept.
The crock pot is (I hope) nicely stuffed for tonight. The drizzle seems to be at about the tolerable limit. It's time (11:53) to hit the regular food and other consumables re-acquisition trail. Mr Amazon's home delivery2 has yet to show. Mr Play has nothing due in his output hopper. Anything else is only going to be a bill, and they can wait. So, when Madonna's lovely Frozen has finished, it will be time to set off. (Fantastic percussion on this track; how can it be nearly ten years old?)
Continuing the musical theme on my return from Eastleigh and Fryern just about two hours later, the lady in Waitrose who kindly unstuck a scanner for me3 fed me the cue for a line straight from Meatloaf when, looking me over, she correctly deduced my plight and said "You're another one who couldn't get it out." What could I respond but "You took the words right out of my mouth"?
In this widowerhood lark, you have to take your amusements where you can, trust me. That was also the reason for my amused snorts when, on the way home after topping up the tiger in my tank, and pulling (I like to think smoothly) to a halt behind the white van who was behind the car at the head of the temporary traffic lights in Leigh Road, Mr White Van Man (whose genetic shortcomings I've had occasion to mention in the past) pulled out and roared through the red light and the diminishing gap between him and the oncoming vehicles "because he could". Even the roadside workers looked slightly gobsmacked at that one, when they were woken by the sound of aggravated hooting. (Not from me, I hasten to add — I still know my Highway Code.)
If you could see me now, Christa
I've just demolished, with gusto (though no relish), exactly the sort of meal you always loved, and that I always tended to spurn: two smoked salmon "parcels" with a soft cheese and herb centre accompanied by a potato side salad, free range hard-boiled egg, cherry tomatoes with a sour cream and chive dressing. Buttered fruit loaf on the side. Delicious. Meanwhile the crock pot simmers along nicely towards the evening stew/casserole whatever thing. I've also bought some pork and a couple of Bramleys for my next experiment. And I need to work my way more systematically through some of the kitchen cupboards as, it's belatedly occurring to me, anything you bought is now over four months old.
And if anybody needs further proof that people on this planet are basically insane, note that bidding for Mussolini's car stopped at £450,000 while the owner was holding out for £800,000 — I can't compete with this sort of material! I had been going to take a pop or two at this book review wherein it seems the author concerned "reminds us that she also straddles cultural and religious traditions, having ancestors who came over on the Mayflower and having converted4 from liberal Episcopalianism to liberal Judaism of the Reform persuasion".
Typical!
Both Amazon and Play, in true Koestlerian style, have now emailed me regarding pending deliveries. What a fast-paced world, heh? In other news, sadly, my main co-pilot was unavailable to accompany me this afternoon on a little expotition and therefore there was nobody with me to stand on my wallet and thus stop me acquiring a new toy in readiness for another pending delivery (of self to New Zealandland). Of course, I must now get it up and running. What is this thing called... Linux?!
In only slightly tastier news, I'm delighted to declare this evening's crock pottery a success. Still too much for one, though. Or, certainly, for eating in a single sitting. Tonight was the rest of the diced beef, three or four sliced spuds, the rest of the carrots, the other half of an onion, beef stock, a splash of flour, ditto of red cooking wine, and (here's where I diverged crucially [I suspect] from the variant two nights ago) a dollop (about a third) out of the tin marked "chopped tomato, garlic and olive oil" rather than sprouts. In fact, the sprouts didn't get a look in, as it were. The final result, after eight hours of "low" thermal agitation, was still moist and very tasty.5