2008 — 2 August: Saturday
Tonight's picture shows Christa and our house-guest Kay back in the Old Windsor, pre-Peter days. I met Kay in Cornwall in 1970 and kept up a lively exchange of letters with her when she went up to Stirling University. I was delighted to introduce her to Christa (but then, I was delighted to introduce Christa to all my friends!):
Christa and Kay in the Old Windsor kitchen, 1976 or 1977 (at a guess)
G'night actually before midnight. I'm absolutely shattered.
Busy, busy
It's just gone 08:01 and there's been a few spots of rain overnight (left over from the stuff in NZ, perhaps?). Time for a cuppa and to stuff the new, lightweight crockpot (I ended up throwing some of the last batch out, which offends me and would appal Christa). So, not quite so full to the brim this time, lad. I also have a lunch date over in Winchester1 so not much time to stand and stare, either.
Good grief... dept.
Comment? Who needs to comment?
Reports about the possibility of a state funeral for Thatcher first emerged last month. The Mail on Sunday said that the Queen and Gordon Brown were in discussions with
Thatcher's private office concerning the arrangements, although it added that plans for a formal procession could be jeopardised by a lack of troops to line the route...
The Guardian's letters page was inundated with readers furious at such a (sic) honour being granted to someone whose policies were blamed for costing thousands of people their jobs.
"Thatcher should only be allowed a state funeral if the contract is put out to compulsory competitive tender and awarded to the lowest bidder. Any offers?" was one of the more
polite responses from readers.
Is she up for sainthood yet, I wonder? (Or does her much-vaunted economic miracle not count?)
Girls, girls, girls... dept.
Not just the title of an Elvis Costello compilation, but also the heading for this interesting article by Geoff Dyer, who also makes passing reference to a 1975 book by Garry Winogrand ("Women are beautiful") that's been on my shelves since the day of my last trip to the ICL HQ in Putney in March 1981. (The same day I bought a large volume of Maurice Sendak's wonderful artwork and a complete Dali catalogue.) But I confess the 82-year-old Czech photographer Miroslav Tichý was unknown to me.
Browsing back a couple of days in the Guardian archive, I noted the passing of Michael de Larrabeiti (he invented the Borribles). There's a nice image in the obituary — well, it made me smile, and I like things that make me smile:
By 1950, with six O-levels, De Larrabeiti was working as a delivery boy for a brother's greengrocery, whose customers included willing housewives, "their wide bosoms unrolling like slow lava onto the window ledges".
Shades of Nurse Gladys Emmanuel, surely?
Time (09:40) for a bit of brekkie.
Jokes
While the dweadful J Woss is away, his BBC Radio 2 slot is occupied by Mark Lamarr and Jo Brand. Today they're chatting to Ian Mclagan of the Small Faces. He has a website, and I've been laughing at some of the jokes on it.
Aside to Christa
The new water meter is (literally) paying off. On the basis of my current consumption, the monthly bill (which was £62-49 at the start of the year) has just leaped up from the initial estimate of £14-40 to a staggering £14-90 from this month onward. I've apparently used 8.00 cubic metres of the slippery stuff over a 75-day billing period.
Back at the ranch...
... after a delicious extended lunch — thank you, Mike and Andrew. The HD satellite box is now back online and delivering the BBC HD channel without fuss or any sign of HDCP interference. Ironically, I'm not even using the hdmi-to-DVI cable; instead, the hdmi-in to DVI and SP/DIF-out box is now pressed back into useful service as I'd run out of spare optical digital audio inputs on the scaler but had two co-ax inputs going spare, as it were. It means I can flip easily back and forth between HD and SD for comparison purposes without pulling any leads.
I briefly mentioned "The Shadow" yesterday. What do I learn today? Well, as the latest sublime Ansible slides through the electronic letterbox (unlike the bits of snail mail I'm still awaiting) I discover: "Lloyd Lamble (1914-2008), last surviving actor to have played The Shadow in the golden days of radio, died on 9 April aged 94." In other news, Big Bro has sent me a document with 24 photos showing the mess that was made when that Qantas Jumbo got a hole punched in its side. It could have been a great deal worse, it seems.
Right! Time (19:15) for a bite while I listen to the outrageous tale of that Rolling Stones drugs bust 40 years ago. What an establishment we had at the time (and is it really different today, I wonder?) Prurient tabloids, heh? Who ever heard of such a thing in Britain's finest news industry?
It's 23:49 and whispering Bob's been playing some superb music (as he often does, of course) — material from the as yet unreleased Nitin Sawhney "London Undersound". I shall treat myself in October for my birthday, methinks, GWATCDR. I've just been discussing the possibility of a walk tomorrow. It needs to be both unrainy and easily navigable without the handheld GPS.