2008 — 17 August: Sunday
As I'm about to finish paying off my sleep debt, I shall sign-off tonight with a shot of Christa and her totally characteristic smile from the summer of 1977. We were over in Germany on a holiday, and had based ourselves for the first week at her older brother's place in the north and, for our second week down at her parental home. This was the fortnight I spent (Asimov fashion) happily skulking upstairs while writing a freelance book1 (for ICL) to the sounds of AFN. It was easier and more relaxing than going out in the blazing heat of a Meisenheim summer, trust me! And it kept me out of any linguistic trouble, without upsetting her, as you can see here:
Christa and her lovely smile, summer 1977
She really could light up a room — that seems to be how many of her friends remember her, too. That was my girl. G'night!
Seeing as it's Sunday...
... and the sun is shining, I have a lovely little quote from the end of a thoughtful article in which Daniel Dennett is interviewed by Chris Floyd. It's a line from a novel by Peter de Vries featuring "his hyper-liberal Reverend Mackerel":
"It is the final proof of God's omnipotence that he need not exist in order to save us."
Mind you, it's a delicious quote for any day of this agnostic's week,2 I guess. I noted only last night while doing some database delving that I'd picked up my (hardback, first edition, dust jacketed) copy of Dennett's 1995 "Darwin's dangerous idea" in a cheap remainders pile outside a bookshop in a mall in Danbury (just over the state border with New York) in 1996. More than a decade on I gather it's a best-seller.
Oh well, it's 08:42 and I'm hoping for a walk a bit later on, dodging the drips. First, breakfast. I'd also better tidy up around here ahead of Big Bro's arrival, I guess. (Think of it as indoors weeding, I suppose.)
Home again
It's 17:32, BBC 6Music's weekly Freak Zone3 is off to a good start, I have just sunk an (almost) fresh cuppa, and (arriving home from a very pleasant six-mile hike around Noar Hill near Selborn, to a flashing light on the answering machine) have recently finished a nice, long phone chat with my youngest Aunt, Mary, down in Devon. Mary actually called in on dear Mama yesterday while also visiting the oldest sister Peg (who's just transferred from hospital into a nursing home in Mama's village).
Sadly, Peg does not look to be much longer for this world but I shall try to pop in on her with Big Bro next week while we're both up there. Mary agreed with me that quality of Life far outweighs quantity4 — Peg is either 94 or 95 (Christa would have known instantly, of course). What puzzled me, I admit, is that dear Mama flatly refused the chance to visit her older sister, just a mile or so across her own village. Completely unbelievabubble.
In later "news"
Junior rang a little while back, carrying out his (very welcome) weekly checkup on the state of his Dad. And now I've just (at 22:22) p-p-picked up a Penguin and eaten it, despite it being "Best before" June 2006. It's only belatedly occurred to me that anything in the various caches dotted around the house and kitchen consists of ever more elderly items. While I'm not suggesting Christa was a natural squirrel, let's just say she had a tendency to horde stuff away in odd corners.
I watched the HD simulcast of "Britain from above" but drew the line at Dan Snow and the terracotta army. I may yet try the director's cut of Donnie Darko — a film we both enjoyed but found rather puzzling. On the other hand, the eyelids are drawing more than somewhat close to each other... Perhaps I need another cuppa?