2008 — 11 September: Thursday
An incredible ten months since Christa died, dammit. Here she is, with Peter, recharging their batteries in Battery Park, New York, in August 1996. My word, it was hot! (But all the bookshops were nicely air-conditioned.)
Christa and Peter lunching in Battery Park, August 1996
BBC Radio 3's "Late Junction" is nicely ambient tonight. Suits me. I'm also still quite enjoying "Lost in Austen" despite the numerous misgivings of the editor of the Radio Times (who confesses she's no fan of Jane Austen). I refer m'learned editress (editrix?) to that opinion by Harlan Ellison on the value of ill-informed opinions. G'night at 00:15 or thereabouts. (The "thereabouts" is because I have yet to go back downstairs and decant the cooled crockpot remainder and pop it into the fridge. A house-husband's work is never done!).
Felicific calculus
Good morning, (lack of) sunshine. I'm not even sure where Powys is, but apparently it's in a happy place. Perhaps it's full of Higgs bosons. (Source.) Boardrooms remain quite comforting places, too, it seems. (Source.) How can poor Brad Mills survive on £8,219,210 when Sir Martin Sorrell scrapes by on £23,372,504? I mean, the poor chap must be outraged, surely? What did JK Galbraith say? (Answer.)
BBC's "Woman's Hour" has just taught me a new TLA, namely, "KBO" (as used by Churchill at the end of wartime transatlantic phone calls)... Time for some breakfast.
It wasn't until I got into the car this morning that I discovered the wrapper (from yesterday's expedition) with which I pose the question:
Does anyone dunk a chocolate coated wafer in a hot drink? I don't!
Rational, smashional... dept.
There's no logical reason one day should be any more or less upsetting than any other. Nonetheless, the 11th of each month since Christa died has tended to be somewhat tricky. Today, therefore, I decided to get ahead of the curve (as it were) and once again hit the seaside. It was beautifully windy out on the pier in Bournemouth, with nice big waves and bright sunshine and scudding clouds. My best girl would have loved it just as much as I did.
The BIC was closed to the public 'cos of the upcoming LibDem conference so I had to wander a little further afield for the traditional spending of a penny. On reflection, the sausage sandwich made with fruit loaf and ketchup was a bit of a mouthful, though. I've only just finished it a couple of minutes ago, back at the ranch (happily I missed almost all the M3 / M27 chaos west bound 'cos I was going the other way, though now northbound is a problem according to "Sally Taffic"). And, to cap a nearly perfect visit (which could only have been better had Christa been there with me in more than my memory) I snapped up an unabridged CD recording of my favourite book: Catch-22.
Having (just) solved the mystery of the disappearing Dolby Digital 5.1 from the Oppo DVD player after patching the local network software and installing all the latest MS gloop I'm just about to settle down in front of Cashback and wrap myself around a fresh cuppa. It's only 21:10 but somehow seems to have been a long day.