2008 — 30 October: Thursday
Another day approaches the buffers, and it's again time for tonight's picture. One of the oldest, showing Christa on the front path of my parent's home in Penn, near High Wycombe, back in late 1974:
I must say, her smile was a well-nigh constant feature, and (generally speaking) it was directed at me pretty well all the time for just over 33 years. I liked that very much, and I miss it now almost more than I can put into words... (And me a writer; tsk, tsk.)
Oh well. From the sound of the wet stuff busily splattering on the skylight, it's wet and horrible out there. Let's hope it's drowning all the wasps. G'night.
Returning the compliment... dept.
When we took delivery of the new car last October my neighbour was on hand to capture the occasion. This morning I've just watched him driving sedately off in his own new toy — the mother of all wasps, to judge by the colour scheme:
Scouting for girls... dept.
... just back from a round trip to a point midway between Sherfield English and Whiteparish and then down to Landford1 to assure myself I can find and convey young Denise over to young Cathy on Saturday. Combine that with a spot of supplies shopping and a stop off at the petrol shop and I get back home shortly after Mr Postie has left his little "You were out and your letter box is too small" calling card — so that will define my next destination after allowing three further hours to elapse. It's time (13:11) for a bite to eat and to put my feet up (as Christa used to say) for a bit.
The incoming words...
... and incoming sounds
Boris Johnson has been urging his citizens to shop their way out of recession. I've been doing my bit, but think it's time to pop the credit card into the freezer to let it cool down for a bit. My chum Ralph had the "Harvest Records" anthology on vinyl. I remember it had an early version of Pink Floyd's "Embryo" on it (the 1970 sampler "Picnic" had had this same version without the band's permission or approval — according to John Peel during the 1971 broadcast of a one-hour Pink Floyd concert). I had to buy an American import CD to get just that one track (obviously!) — not that I'm any kind of completeist, you understand.
Just look at the fabulous track listing!
By 'eck! How come I've not previously heard Arvo Pärt's "Tabula Rasa"?2 It's a stunning piece of music. The only other piece I know of for "prepared" piano is by John Cage. I wonder how the preparation varies.
The inner man has been pacified, the dishes done, and I'm now (19:45) waiting for the next burst of Little Dorrit. And now, I'm listening — delightedly — to the "Imagined Village" CD. I think I've excelled myself with this fine batch of music. (The Robert Plant and Alison Krauss collaboration is equally fine.) Time for another cuppa. Meanwhile, there are three "Electric Prom" sessions busily archiving themselves downstairs: Goldfrapp, Maddy Prior, and Nitin Sawhney. All good stuff.