2008 — 14 November: Friday
Several people have been kind enough to tell me my picture of Christa and Peter on the 11th was "lovely". I thought so too, of course. Time to choose another one:
I note my left hand made a guest appearance in this shot!
I've spent the last couple of hours proving (once again) how very flaky Windows Vista Media Center can be. How many ways can I crash thee?! All I was doing is playing a few MP3s, too. Grizzle, grizzle. Still, the music was grand when it worked. And it evokes some fine memories. G'night, at 00:27 or thereabouts.
Having breakfasted...
... and sent a couple of middle-aged male Jehovah's Witnesses on their (unmerry) way, I must nip out for some food despite the fact that "Scheherazade" has just started up on the radio — it's a performance (the Kondrashin) I already have on CD, so no matter. Better get dressed first, though. I note dead wasps are appearing under the skylight. Is this a good sign? It certainly isn't a good sign that it's already 11:15... this won't do.
Phase 1 of the Friday master plan is complete (though there was an annoying lack of well-fired loaves, and I didn't get any fish). Now, what was phase 2? Aah, yes, I dimly recall. Off I go again. 12:40? Good grief!
Later that day...
Gooder griefer. It's now 14:06 and the proposed gammon steak lunch is ascending in temperature as I type. The salad is prepped, there's a kiwi fruit to peel and add, and I shall even try a little mango chutney — how's that for a culinary splash? Mind you, I've just noticed the meal declares itself as high salt, but what's the odd 4 grammes between friends? Right, the chunky pineapple and mango salsa (aka light brown goo) has been extruded over the meat and in another ten minutes I should be, wait for it, high on the hog. And then I have an entire afternoon looming in front of me. Now, let's see, what did we always used to enjoy doing on a Friday afternoon after escaping from the Hursley Lab?
Good God?
I'm more than a little insulted to learn that — if Laura Schlessinger is correct (which I have my doubts about) — morality requires a belief in "God". There's a nice item in Slate. Snippet and source:
[there may be] an evolutionary imperative to care about one's reputation. If you think about God, you believe someone is watching. This argument is bolstered by other research that they review showing that people are more generous and less likely to cheat when others are around. More surprisingly, people also behave better when exposed to posters with eyes on them.
The posters of Big Brother described in Orwell's "1984" were obviously on to something.
Went the day well?
Yes, pretty well. Junior rang to check up on me. I watched "QI". Washed what's left of my hair. Had a nice evening meal. Now it's time to admit it's been an acquisitive sort of day, starting when I caught Mr Postie before he could perform his morning maildrop on to my battered windowsill:
Christa and I enjoyed young Mr Bennett back in 1979/80 as "Shelley". I missed the Dimbleby series, which seems to date from 1996. We certainly enjoyed "Rosie" the P.C. and I've just about finished listening to the last of these three CDs.
The acquisitive streak was capped by a swift visit to Jonathan's "Arcade books" — it's twenty years almost to the day since he set up in business in the Fryern Arcade:
Actually, there were a couple of items in town, too. Two 4GB USB sticks and another half terabyte external drive, as it begins to seem as if there is no such thing as too much memory. And now, suddenly, it's jolly nearly midnight. It keeps creeping around, doesn't it?
One of my spies tells me, by the way, that the IBM Hursley site was shut today because of a burst water main in the Hursley village. Golly!