2009 — 17 January: Saturday
Junior having shown up safely, though rather later than expected, I can now turn my attention to tonight's picture of Christa. It shows her with our young friend Claudia (now a middle-aged goldsmith, for goodness sake) in 1976, very soon after we'd moved into the house in Old Windsor:
It seems to be pouring with rain now. Later today I'm to help Junior shop for a new suit, it seems. Christa, of course, was the effective arbiter of fashion in our little household in the days of yore, so this may be a fun exercise. G'night, at 00:35 or so.
So much for his loud alarm?
He said he wanted waking at 08:30 and it's now 08:33... I've just been reminded, by a Mr Postie delivery,1 that my little HP Media PC's first birthday is two day's after Junior's. It's no longer a Vista machine of course, but is also a stateless machine just now as I have yet to finalise its location.
Given the dire warnings yesterday about blizzards, gales, tempests, and the wolves generally coming down from the hills I note we have a clear, calm sky and bright sunshine. In fact, I may yet be able to hang out my laundry! It's 09:40 and the household appears to be conscious. My breakfast reading has consisted of this piece in which Richard Perle has distanced himself from any claim to have had had any rôle, architectural or otherwise, in the last eight years of North American policy towards Iraq or, well, anything really. Hmmm.
I learned my last new unit of measurement — the "Kan" — six months ago. Here's the next, again from the realm of physics:
Farmelo believes that the cause of Dirac's condition was not paternal cruelty but autism. Like many autistics he was extremely taciturn. His fellow students invented a unit, "the Dirac", for the smallest imaginable number of words someone could utter in an hour.
Drugged again
I am back on antibiotics, this time for an infection in my finger. Sounds trivial, but is best nipped in the bud I gather. We're recently back from a brief flit into a rather busy town, but unsuited.2 Meanwhile "we" are now once again just "I" as Junior is already en route back to London, reinforced by his traditional lump of petrol / pocket money, but unencumbered by the woolly hat he forgot (I think). I suppose I'd better start thinking about a bite to eat. Ever onward. It's 13:23 and still fairly sunny.
Memory Lane
The recent triple traumae among my A/V kit prompted me to revisit the system as it was back in October 2003. Just two pieces of kit currently survive. I find that pretty amazing. Compare and contrast!
The inner man is at peace, and I'm doing a spot of tidying up, while trying not to type with the afflicted (right hand, index) finger. Time for my next cuppa; after all it's 15:44. I shall be pleased if and when the finger calms down. It's not throbbing, but it's rather hot and bothered. I gather if the antibiotics don't quieten things down in 24 hours or so I shall have to go into "A&E" for intravenous antibiotics — a completely charmless prospect, I have to confess, that fills me with mild horror... Meanwhile, the time has crept around to 18:45 and the weather looks set to deteriorate more than somewhat.