2009 — 15 April: Wednesday
It's just gone 01:11 and, judging by the steady clatter of rain against the skylight up here in the study, there's little prospect of a walk later unless we wear rubber diving gear. Ho-hum. Tonight's picture of Christa and Peter dates from 1982 (I suspect) as the local road had yet to be resurfaced:
The evening's later viewing was the remarkably silly Swordfish — pretty mindless and noisy eye-candy on (mature?) reflection. No matter; I still enjoyed it. G'night.
Marching orders
What a difference eight hours can make... "Good morning, are you awake?" I am now. "Fancy a walk?" What's the weather doing? "The forecast's changed. How about the Hinton Ampner road walk?" Give me time to throw a sandwich together...
It's 09:07 and the sun is indeed shining.
Some six hours later
The walk has been walked. The mist has by no means all burned off, but it was warm and humid — positively sticky in parts. Now I'm back with time in hand to turn Junior's room back into a habitable state. There's a strange Tom Stoppard duologue on the radio. Since I'm unfamiliar with "On Dover Beach" it's rather lost on me... But there's always a cuppa to soothe the tired limbs.
Enantiomorphic? Moi?
Having been ticked off within the last couple of weeks for using that lovely word in an email, imagine my delight on reading about the asymmetry of snails. Source and snippet:
Look at yourself in the mirror. You're probably mostly symmetrical: one eye and one ear on each side of your head, features that are at least roughly even, and any lopsidedness is most
likely due to postnatal wear and tear.
Deep inside you, though, you are profoundly asymmetrical, and that asymmetry is essential for your well-being...
I'm relieved to see I'm by no means the only person to find Phorm deeply, offensively intrusive... (More.)
When I next look at my watch...
... it's definitely time to slam the chicken pie into the oven, else it will be even further past its "Use by" date! (I made too much packed lunch, so finished that off at about 16:00 which meant, of course, I wasn't then hungry at the "usual" evening time. Besides, I was also trying to suck some camera data off a pair of 8GB SD cards from my main co-pilot's camera {unsuccessfully} on each of XP, Linux, and OS-X. Never seen this particular type of JPEG corruption before, I have to say.) Still, the rumbly tum will be placated within the next 15 minutes or so. Of course, if the chicken is alive with salmonella (or whatever) this could yet be my final diary entry... Major Tom to Ground Control, tell my wife I love her very much!
It's 20:01 — kitchen here I come, ready or not.