2008 — 15 April: Tuesday
Somewhat sluggish start this morning1 but the sun seems to be blazing away (it's 09:09) and the lure of a cuppa will soon take me downstairs, I'm sure. I've spent maybe 30 minutes browsing around the Google Maps and UK traffic facilities vaguely considering future destinations for picnics and what-have-you.
Today's first semi-smile:
I have, at various points in my life, done all of the following: routinely gone four blocks out of my way for my shopping rather than patronise the greengrocer across the street who cheerfully, enragingly, advertised "tomatoe's"; ... voted for a candidate whose views I didn't much care for just because the flyer I'd received from his opponent had misspelled something; ... revised radically downwards my opinion of a potential romantic prospect upon discerning that she didn't know, or didn't care about, the difference between "your" and "you're". I'm not proud of most of those things, especially the last.
Beware, young feller, that way lies perpetual disappointment. The smile quotient is far (far) lower, but the topic and writing rather more elevated (I'm bearing in mind the hundreds of comments already attracted by Mr Mueller's piece) in Nick Paumgarten's New Yorker item on the lives of elevators.
Satyrs in the House of Commons... dept.
I spend less time delving into the mysterious processes of law-making here in the Benighted Kingdom than, well, just about anyone I guess. Law-making and sausage-making are both visually unarousing. But I've been reading the Explanatory Notes regarding Clause 64 of Part 6 of the Criminal Justice and Immigration Bill which, for reasons passing human understanding, finds it necessary to define and deal with the "new offence" of "Possession of extreme pornographic images".
To kick off, we learn that "In order to be considered pornographic, an image needs to have been produced solely or mainly for the purpose of sexual arousal. Whether this threshold has been met will be an issue for a jury to determine... To add insult, as it were, to in(jury), subsection (8) surreally states that references to parts of the body also include body parts that may have been surgically constructed or enhanced." How, pray tell me with a straight face, will a jury be able to decide if an image of a surgically enhanced body part appears real2 to the viewer? The mind boggles.
It is impossible to satirise this sort of stuff. It is equally difficult (though not unamusing) to picture the committee stages of material as weird as this. Much better to get back out into the fresh air and smell, as it were, the roses. So I propose to adjourn, if my main co-pilot will take me, to "Poppies" for a bite or two.
An orchid or two... dept.
Just back from a brief whizz (thank you, Peter!) around the Hampshire countryside (a free lunch — who said "TANSTAAFL"?), a brief stop to say hello to Sir Thomas Octave Murdoch Sopwith's grave, and an equally brief sighting of a green-winged orchid near a bank of bluebells. A couple of weeks earlier than it "should" appear. Spring is springing as I type. This time last year there was not even a trace of blossom (unlike now) on our little decorative Japanese cherry tree. Strange, isn't it, my love?
Six months ago today, you left this house for the last time. Still un-bloody-believable.
But the sun shines on, the Bank of England pumps £15,000,000,000 into "the system" to stave off — what? hoarding? economic collapse? And I'm just (at 17:13) recently back from the well-trodden supplies trail. Some more food, and (I hope) the last pieces of the improved network storage and backup/recovery solution jigsaw. Plus, curiously, a Time Machine (that I will explain in due course). Tell me: why do the majority of drivers use the motorway's middle and outside lanes when the inside lane is deliciously clear? I don't understand this. I'm not supposed to "undertake" but when there's no-one in front of me and both lanes on my right are full and slower-moving, what's a chap supposed to do?
Watching the Leopard... dept.
It's 23:23 and I've spent quite some time this evening watching Leopard first install itself, and then upgrade itself. I'm now shutting everything down so I can add in a few more bits of mains supply (everything these days seems to require yet another power brick) and then hook up a new 500GB external drive for use as the Time Machine. Then I shall call it a day, as we have arranged a nice long walk tomorrow — sunshine willing.
I also called dear Mama and listened as she vented for 20 minutes or so. Nothing new; no new news, plenty of recurrent complaints and whinges. At 91, I guess they feel entitled to grumble. Not much I can do about that. She certainly is a great deal more kindly-disposed towards Christa these days, claiming to have re-read all my letters and those from Christa without ever having an inkling of how ill the poor girl was. What can I say? G'night!