2008 — 2 November: Sunday
It's 01:44 and I've recently arrived back after a meal and evening of chatter over at Cathy's. Nice bunch of people, and the lift rendezvous to pick up and deposit Denise worked fine too.
So, just time for tonight's picture of Christa and an almost brand new Peter, dating from the summer of 1980 in Old Windsor, and then some sleep before a walk later today:
Christa and Peter, Old Windsor, summer 1980
Cold, but no longer raining. G'night.
Grey morning
It's 09:14, the lunch is packed and the breakfast loading has nearly finished. There's an unfamiliar piece of Bernstein on the radio, and I'm more or less awake (I think) and wondering about the best layering of clothes for the Great Outdoors. It's neither as sunny nor as warm as in the picture above. Despite global climate change. My co-conspirator has reassessed the "squidgibility status" of part of our proposed route along an "Ox Drove" track in light of the overnight rain, but that's what boots are for, I guess. Time (09:54) to get layered...
Continuing my Autumnal colours theme...
... which is, let's face it, not exactly yet a long-running theme, though my first example is here, Mike took precisely one shot today, and has kindly allowed me to snaffle it:
That gate, I'm ashamed to say, was padlocked shut and was our means of escape having wandered (quite unintentionally) onto a private farm estate. The chap who accosted us ("Should I know you?") was very nice about it, and allowed us to continue by the most direct route off his land. Oops.
We lunched beside Crawley duckpond, but it was too dull for pictures.
You know you're getting older when...
... a listener contacts BBC DJ Johnnie Walker saying "You were kind enough to play the Doors' Riders on the Storm to mark the birth of my daughter. She's now 41 — is it too soon for another request?" And he plays that track again, in full, and you like it just as much as when you first heard it (and, by the way, The Doors was also one of Christa's favourite groups, too). Excellent. But now it's time to dodge the execrable Titchmarsh and switch over to the Freak Zone.
I missed part one of the two-part dramatisation of Nevil Shute's On the Beach while out walking. But since I can still clearly remember reading it in 1963 I'm not over-worried. Mind you, the novel was enough to give a 12-year-old me the screaming hab-dabs at the time. I also read other "disaster" novels (such as The day of the Triffids, The Kraken wakes, Lord of the Flies, The death of grass) at around the same time. All highly recommended.
I've been browsing some more music choices on Play and Amazon but have so far not got beyond "Add to basket". Let's see how long that lasts, shall we? I must say, the boxed set of Jake Thackray is horribly tempting. I can't convince myself, however, that the about to be released "all-new" Electric Muse is much different from the 3-CD set I already have of nearly the same name. I'm sure my chum Brian will know the difference. Oh well, time to do the dishes (or "Dish the dos" as I always said it to Christa — she liked Spoonerisms) and then I shall catch the 4th lump of Mr Fry in America.
I guess you also know you're getting older when you decide to have an early night for a change. It's only 22:45 but I'm knackered so that's going to be it for today. G'night. (Again.)