2008 — 14 April: Monday
There's a slightly stronger possibility1 of a walk later today, I gather. It's just gone 01:08 and I'm back after a very pleasant evening with a little cheese and wine chatter, (thank you, Andrew) followed by black halibut and ratatouille (not the film), (thank you Mike) followed by (at my suggestion) a viewing of that wonderful Alan Parker movie "The Commitments", followed by some of the extensive documentary features, and finishing off with some equally wonderful stuff from the September 1987 Roy Orbison and friends evening with a stellar set of musicians happily jamming away in the background. (Including, a then-svelt kd lang and the Boss and Tom Waits and Elvis Costello and Jackson Browne... pretty damn' cool.)
But if I'm to be fresh as a daisy, I'd better get some beauty sleep right about now. And I haven't even mentioned the bargain found in Waterstone's or the success (partial, at least) in the HMV bargain DVD shelves.
Racing certainty... dept.
Unless I intend to cultivate the sort of hair lengths that Christa did when we first met, I shall have to do something soon about booking my next snipping appointment with my chum Martine. This will, at a stroke, double the number of times someone other than Christa has cut my hair in the last thirty years or so (leaving completely to one side my experiments with a pair of electric clippers that [I expect] we still have tucked away somewhere — very probably exactly where she hoped I would never again find them).
Fit to be tied... dept.
A spy has kindly sent me what is claimed to be a picture of precisely the Wiring Issue that the FAA chose to use as a reason for grounding the American Airlines fleet of 300 or so MD80s last week:
Those white ties are supposed to be not more than an inch apart2 to reduce any risk of chafing and hence (ultimately) a fire hazard. It's fair to say the last thing you want in one of today's aircraft is any chance of fire in the electric string department. But I'm told it seems that there is the merest smidgen of a hint of a tad of revenge-motivated idiocy at work here, but then [as my spy also remarked] the most frightening words a businessman ever hears begin: "I'm from the government and I'm here to help you!".
I could eat a New Forest pony... dept.
A very pleasant walk in sunshine (though a cool breeze) in the vicinity of Minstead for three elderly gentlemen, and a few pictures to show for it, too.
It's now 15:26, however, and time to remove the rather delayed lunch from the baking tray in the centre of the oven, and the pot of ever so healthy veggies from the hob, and stuff both into the mouth! Decorously, of course.
Here be (dead) dragons... dept.
I borrowed Mike's camera:
But how can it possibly be 18:15 already?
Going cheap, cheap... dept.
Back in the early days of Java there was much "talk" about the $100 thin client at a time when a basic PC cost around ten times more. Fast forward a little over twelve years and you can now buy a perfectly usable spec PC with Ubuntu pre-loaded for three times less than Dell here in the UK seems to be charging for an Inspiron machine (of, I admit, somewhat higher spec). Nonetheless, congratulations, Aria!
I must say, having a late lunch doesn't tend to enhance the appetite for an evening meal, even though it's now 19:41 and counting. Perhaps the only Fry-ing tonight will be the BBC4 programme about the Gutenberg Press. I also rang dear Mama but she neglected to pick up — I wonder what soap I was disturbing?
Two new Winston stories... dept.
I must say, the joy of random discovery sometimes really does go a little way to allay the background threnody of sadness. I was idly browsing the Guardian web site and found an item that struck me as a most uncharacteristically unnewsworthy tag line: "Former PM was almost kidnapped, diary reveals". But I'm very glad I jumped down this particular rabbit hole. It took me, first, to Lord Hailsham's coded diary on (of all places I regard it as unlikely for me ever to wish to visit) the Margaret Thatcher foundation, and ultimately to a PDF image of an entry from that diary from 9 January 1977 with, as I say, two new Winston stories. Here's the tiny snippet:
