2009 — 6 January: Tuesday
Tonight's picture? Christa and Peter in Old Windsor in late 1980, I estimate.
Christa and Peter in Old Windsor, in late 1980
Need to be up bright and early. I have a morning dental appointment, and then we're hoping to fit in another walk, down in the New Forest for a change. I've grilled the sausages for the sandwich (and tested one just to be sure!) Also have to do some foody shopping, make an optician's appointment, and do something about the mysterious ISA thing that has — once again — expired ("matured") on me. Christa understood all about these things, of course.
I also have a nasty feeling it's now too late to get a birthday card off to the birthday girl in the Midlands ("I'm 92 you know!"). But then as I'm already permanently in the dog house... Oh well. G'night at 00:01 or so. Here's hoping the pension shows up in the bank account.
Bah!
If the appearance of the garden waste collection lorry is any guide, I should have put out the black bin already (though my interpretation of their "calendar" was that they would be a day late for just this week). Well, it's too cold to do anything about that before a defrosting cuppa and some clothing. It's only a few minutes past dawn if the height of the orange blob is any guide, and very frosty. It's 08:28 — how's that for bright and early? All my motorist neighbours appear to be running their engines to clear their windscreens. (That's what my garage is for, of course.)
Minus 7C is no sort of start to the day, in my opinion. Though, if you're no fan of sociology, this is grist for the mill. Hearing Tony Blair on the radio once again blathering on is deeply depressing.
The continuing "twinges" in the one recent tooth repair apparently indicate an infection1 in the bone. Bones have a poor blood supply, so I've now got an antibiotic (metronidazole — contemplating its simple chemical formula [C6H9N3O3] again brings to mind the Robert Persig quotation here) that targets anaerobic germs. For a week. If it doesn't clear up, investigations (excavations?) will proceed (resume?). Deep unjoy. Right. What's next, Mrs Landingham? A walk in the New Forest.
Home again
Just been dropped off back home — thanks, Mike — and have just (at 15:07) ingested a nice hot cuppa. As it's still only -2C outside I have lazily declared an end to external household tasks for the day (a little dentist and nearly seven miles in subzero temps goes quite a long way these days) and shall just relax gently, pottering on one or more of the PCs. What an idle layabout I am, to be sure.
New use of the word "literally"... dept.
Looking up the BBC HD channel's schedule for tonight, and alighting for a moment on the "Swarm: Nature's incredible invasions" entry, I balk a little at "while in the US the Illinois River literally boils with leaping silver carp, an alien species that has hijacked the river smashing into boats and injuring people". Mustn't carp. Make a mental note to check the meaning of "hyperbole". (Or should that be "hyperboil"?) In what sense is any species native to the planet an alien species? Tsk, tsk.
Partial death to DOGs
I missed this. But I'm delighted to learn of this. And this! Not to mention this:
Completely fascinating, I assure you. What the devil is Dolby E? (Just found out.)
Little boxes, little boxes...
Speaking to dear Mama earlier, I was reminded by her cyclic conversation (she's 92 you know) how she always told me I had a "grasshopper mind" (in a way that really didn't ever seem to be a compliment). I mentioned a while back that Jon Ronson was examining (on TV channel "More4") Stanley Kubrick's vast archive having earlier noted some2 of his findings. Being an idiot, I forgot (last July) to watch the programme. Hah! It's on again tonight at 23:05...
That inner man is beginning to grumble again. He's utterly relentless, so I'd better go and see what the kitchen has to offer. Crikey, it's 18:15 already.
That's better! Now, earlier today, we had a brief discussion about the spelling of the plural of the words "roof" and "hoof". It seems young Roger in Wales was in some doubt recently. That grasshopper mind recalls a little ditty my Dad often recited. I even typeset it (back in the days of good ol' LocoScript on my very first Amstrad WP system) and stuck it on one of the kitchen cabinets. I recall Tony D's first wife was quite charmed by it. It's still there today, though the dot matrix impact printout is sadly faded. So here's a refreshed web version:
Imagine my amusement when Mrs Google showed me that Scientologists had had it foisted upon them back in 1978.
Just (22:03) zapped a neglected cuppa in the microwave and taken a disbelieving peek at the thermometer on the front porch while putting the door chain on. It's minus 7C already.