2009 — 11 January: Sunday
Very cold out there again tonight. It's 01:42 or so and I've just sorted out tonight's picture of Christa, which dates back to around 1976 or 1977 I guess:
Christa in the Old Windsor bedroom
The evening was very pleasantly taken up by a positive feast of TV. The extended edition of "QI", followed by two films on the HD channel. "Starter for Ten" was pretty good, but "Snow cake" was absolutely stunning. I noted Dr Temple Grandin was one of those thanked in the closing credits. I admit I'd predicted that to myself somewhat before the half way point.
Minus 4C — I've just checked, because Mike sent me a note earlier showing a rather warmer Winchester "snapshot" from his weather station. Ho hum. G'night.
Almost sunny
Well, frost everywhere, but the porch thermometer says plus 2C (already, at 09:15) and the kettle will warm things further!
It's one thing to control a "headless" Linux box (since you can log in to it from elsewhere on your network). But controlling1 a "headless" Freeview box (by which I mean the dinky little Asda cheapie that currently feeds the study system with continuous digital radio but without an attached screen) is a different matter in the absence of any meaningful front of box display. Or, to put it another way: where has BBC World Service moved to?
Perhaps it's time to haul the original Humax PVR2 back off the "spares" pile and start using it upstairs. That was, after all, the reason I bought the "dongle" to switch its onboard hard drive between its use as "video tape" and as an external USB drive for rapid transfer of recordings to one of the PCs up here. I'm almost certain said dongle is within two feet of my feet as I type... yes, I can see the unopened plastic bag. Now all I need is an appropriate bit of IDE lead and a round tuit.
And more programmes worth archiving. Good heavens. Barry Norman and Katharine Whitehorn seem to have a newspaper reviewing gig on BBC Radio 4. It's now 09:49 and has definitely become sunny. Good.
Slow to the party
The "Washington Post" has just realised there's a new edition of that 1972 stalwart The Joy of Sex in the bookshops. They have a delicious headline to their story, too. Snippet:
Spoiler alert: People still have sex. The mechanics of it haven't changed since 1972, AD or BC. We might be overwhelmed with info now (See: "Internet"), but the popularity and longevity of "Joy" make it seem a lot more trustworthy than, say, "Tickle His Pickle," $10.17 on Amazon. It's been a bellwether of human sexuality for decades.
Now, how about a bite to eat. Pickle, perhaps?
Low interest
Christa was a whizz at juggling savings accounts (though she certainly shared my opinion of the "casino" nature of what's laughingly referred to as "stock market investment"). I therefore used to give her as much housekeeping money as I could, pay all the monthly bills, and spend only the "surplus". Now I read:
Although it doesn't amount to so much these days, £3,600 in an ISA paying 4% would see you save £28.80 as a basic rate tax payer or £57.60 as a higher rate tax payer — which is better than the current poke in the eye.
Seems a lot of hassle for less than thirty pieces of silver to me. (Oh, and remind me why pensioners still have to pay tax in any case.)
Time (11:35) to take one of those pieces and a shopping list along to the local foody emporium. Most of the frost seems to have disappeared so I hope the roads will now be a lot less slippery. It would, in fact, have been pretty decent weather for a walk but we both chickened out. No matter — we're retired, you know! Today it's a staggering 14 months since Christa died. I still find this hard to absorb, dammit. But the sun is shining and the sky is (pale) blue.
I'm either getting lazier or more efficient. My shopping bag is fuller3 than it used to be as I go less often to the well, as it were. Purely to give my little car slightly more of an outing I also took it down to the local Comet — I have to say their support of "Freesat" (just three models, two of them high-definition) compares very poorly indeed with all the "Sky" boxes and promotional material on display. Could this possibly be a sales commission-related matter, perhaps? Recall Upton Sinclair: "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it."
Soon be time for a spot of lunch. It seems to be 13:18 already.
I've mentioned the Hitchcock Blonde blog before (on that "Washington Post"-related link above, in fact). Here she is in fine pre-Xmas form. Yes, I know Xmas is now thankfully a past event. So what?
For eleven months of the year I consider myself something of a domestically emancipated culinary Odysseus, devouring and discarding Marks ready meals like a roving lotharia of microwave linguini, shaking pierced films and cardboard sleeves from my lolloping legs as I impatiently embark on urban adventures untethered by apron strings. Come December, I suffer an inexplicable urge to transform myself into an Ithacan exemplar of hospitable toil, as the yuletide siren that is Nigella seduces me and my goddman ve-jay-jay to an annual drowning by vanilla essence and Kirsch-coddled Gruyère fondue.
So what, too, if I only understand the bit about pierced films and cardboard sleeves? On with the (microwave) show!
It's 17:34 and pitch-black outside. On with the "Freak Zone" however. I laughed aloud at parts of the preceding Stephen Merchant show, too. Not sure what that's a sign of, but we widowers have to take our endorphins wherever we can find them I guess. I find a lot to enjoy on BBC 6Music.
How's this for a bizarre headline? "Church gives birth to a baby boy". (Source.) Gosh, I'm so out of the loop with pop culture and celeb names...
I mentioned savings accounts above, and noted an old Heinlein remark. Idly browsing through some "proper" Heinlein quotations (that is ones not simply dragged, kicking and screaming, out of my own memory), you can find this: "$100 placed at 7 percent interest compounded quarterly for 200 years will increase to more than $100,000,000 — by which time it will be worth nothing." How (probably) true! (Source.) Heinlein's favourite SF novel, by the way, was this wonderful yarn by HG Wells:
My copy has that wonderfully evocative pulp paperback smell.
In later news...
Well, now it's 21:34 and will soon be time for my extended date with Maureen Lipman. I've also (thank goodness) finally managed to exchange emails with my friend Val in Sweden (who until now I had no contact details for). She accompanied us on one of our New Year's Day expotitions to Bournemouth back in 1983.