2009 — 21 March: Saturday

Both of yesterday's Blu-ray "guilty pleasures" were enjoyed last night. And now, yet another sunny day is being forecast. For tonight's picture of Christa I'm going back, for the third time, to the 1st April 2007, which was the weekend we enjoyed the company of Big Bro and his #1 daughter (our #1 niece, that is). We took them down to Lepe country park for a walk along the coast:

Christa and Michelle, April 2007

So far as I know, Michelle has left Italy and is now somewhere in London. G'night, ahead (I hope) of a walk down in Exbury in a few hours from now.

Frosty start

Though the sun is shining, there's been overnight frost. It's 07:45 and sleep was shattered by the lads gathering up the crates of glass bottles. My own crate was barely one third full in about five or six months. Now, if we recycled used teabags, that would be entirely different...

I've quoted this chap (a psychology professor) before. Today's snippet is just a tiny taster from a very tasty article:

It is no great distance from the mesmerizing impact of close-order drill to the stimulating consequence of shared chanting and cheering, the waving of arms (military or civilian) in unison. The Wave, which many fans say originated in my hometown of Seattle, is a good example. Even though they don't get to swing a bat, throw a pass, or sink a three-pointer, fans have been inventive in providing themselves with ritualized, shared movements that further embellish the allure as well as the illusion of being part of the larger, shared whole, tapping into that primitive satisfaction that moves at almost lightning speed from shared, ritual action to a tempestuous sense of expanded self. One becomes part of a great beckoning, grunting, yet smoothly functioning, and, presumably, security-generating Beast. And for those involved, it apparently feels good to be thus devoured whole and to live in its belly.

David P Barash in The Chronicle

I shall be looking out for his next book ("How women got their curves, and other Just-So stories"). Bet it beats Kipling (not that I've ever Kippled, Mr McGill). Meanwhile, Mr Brooker's column here is almost serious, even if he is plugging his new show, a news-based spin-off from Screen Wipe.

Time for breakfast and then I must pack a lunch for our little expotition. It's 08:20 and Brian Matthew is in full swing. (I'm such a creature of BBC habit.)


DNS upheavals start today. If it all goes pear-shaped you can complain to me by using davidDOTmounceATgoogleDOTmail (the mail server is relocating as well as the web server). Fingers crossed. Right! Time for walkies.

Some eight hours later, after a most enjoyable walk in the vicinity of Lepe country park (scene of a successful photo of a dragonfly last June) I'm now settling down for an evening of stuff unrelated to web or email as one simply cannot hurry a DNS update!

The BBC's top web story!


Waxing lyrical?