2008 — 26 May: Monday

Mr Gilmour's bits are pouring smoothly onto the Panasonic's hard drive downstairs while I listen in up here with the final cuppa of the night (technically, the first of tomorrow as it's 00:35 as I type, and "Fat Old Sun" from Atom Heart Mother is the current tune). I must say, he and some of his fellow musicians all look very much to be approaching pensionable age, Christa! I bet you remember me playing you "Dark Side of the Moon" back in 1974 in my room in the Old Windsor vicarage on that Sony portable radio-recorder.

Whatever the time and wherever you are, here's another picture:

Christa and me, Christmas 1991

Our young photographer seems to have incorporated the top edge of a sofa across the bottom of the image.

Cult is as cult does... dept.

Comment is superfluous (and in some danger of becoming illegal)! Yet here's a religious chap who actually seems to me to make a lot of sense. Good job I'm merely a bear of little brain. I'm (just) bright enough to realise that the concert is wrapping up (at 00:55 plus) with "Wish you were here". We bought that in Penzance on our delayed honeymoon, my love. "How I wish you were here" indeed! G'night. (After watching — again — "Which one's pink?" of course!)

And hanging up the washing. Yawn. 02:16 is quite late enough.

It's finally raining...

... so I'm assuming this is a Bank Holiday. It's 10:40 and time for another cuppa. And now, suddenly, it's 13:04 and time for a spot of lunch. What a grade "A" grey day down here; Southampton central railway station is closed due to floods. I think this afternoon's little project will be to finish adding extra lighting up in the loft. Let's see if I can manage that without too many sparks flying, shall we? Just as I finish my mackerel salad, the sun tentatively pops out. That's a bit better. Quick! Dodge The Archers — anything else but that.

I'm not sure which is making me higher, the "Ultimate Abba Chart" on BBC Radio 2 or the news that somebody passing through Japan's Narita airport has received 142g of cannabis after a customs test went awry. Is that a lot, by the way?1 I have no idea.

Now, who do you suppose...

... thought photos of him made him look like "an egg sculpted in lard, with goggles on"? (Answer here.) The thought has prompted me to reset my Epson scanner to its factory defaults and try again! Good grief, it's nearly 19:00 and I'd better do something about an evening meal.



1  I have a 25g pouch of the aromatic "Clan" tobacco that I bought several years ago. It is about the same volume as a pair of gents' folded hankies (at least the way I fold them) so I would imagine 142g is pretty bulky. Why do I have this stuff? Perhaps oddly, I like to sniff it occasionally as its smell is so evocative. I haven't smoked since 1970 and have no intention of re-starting. I, perhaps hypocritically, told Christa back in 1974 that I would not marry her unless she gave up her horrible cigarettes, too. What a little horror I must have been back then, heh? Mind you, my Dad was busily dying of lung cancer at the time. Anyway, she chose me over her ciggies, tapering off her habit over a year or so. And in later years, she often told me how glad she was to have stopped, so I make no apology. The things we do for love, heh?