2009 — 27 April: Monday
As I wait for the heavy rain to sweep in from the West overnight, and debate (with myself) the merits of a final cuppa, here's tonight's picture of Christa from about 32 years ago:
Christa in Old Windsor, 1977 or so
It dates, as you can see, from a time of relatively untrammelled hair! Though I steadfastly maintained a diplomatic silence throughout this period1 of experimentation, I guess the statute of limitations has expired, along with the dear girl herself... so let me just say that I always much preferred either her pony-tail or, in more recent times, the short, neat cut that she first had on our March 2001 daytrip to Bristol (that I mentioned here).
G'night, at 00:35 or thereabouts... but just have a giggle at this before you leave. It's priceless. And this is neat, too.
Wakey, wakey!
Actually, it's already 09:57 and the newly-stuffed crockpot has been on the "go" since just before the 9 o'clock "pips". The rain doesn't seem too heavy, and I expect the weeds out in the garden will show their appreciation all too soon. Today, I suspect, is a day for staying in and keeping the hatches battened. And having a spot of breakfast...
Now here's an interesting line:
No, the existence of language is one of the many phenomena — of which love and music are the two strongest — which suggest that human beings are very much more than collections of meat.
While this is just plain disgraceful:
On three occasions radioactive coolant leaked from nuclear submarines... Formal legal action could not be taken because military bases are exempt from the law governing nuclear sites... The documents also showed the Navy did not know how much radioactivity was discharged... An MoD spokesman said: "The discharges into the Gare Loch had no environmental consequences..."
Unfunnily enough, I host a relevant quotation or two here.
And what's scariest about this assertion is learning which financial organisation made it:
Lunch? Already??
It's brightened up a touch (at 12:45) although it is still raining, and the tum is beginning to drop hints. I'm listening to a depressing item about the 100,000,000,000 plastic bags used each year in North America. I suspect the law of unintended consequences is at work on a grand scale.
Tuning away from the "Archers" (with the vigour that only an ex-addict can manage) I find myself listening to something known as "Naughty Limericks" by a living Russian composer (Shchedrin) I have never heard of. Still, it's mercifully short and, if I can hang on for another hour, there's a performance of my old favourite Scheherazade coming up. Which reminds me — my chum Len still has some of my CD variants of that...
Well, just as Scheherazade finishes (a fine performance) I look out of the study window to see an immense dark cloud with a surprisingly straight lower edge just waiting to drop a pint or so. Hatches will remain battened (though I'm going to have to break out at some point to wheel one of the bins out). Unbliss. But a cuppa will perk me up. It's 16:15 or so.
The pint is now (16:52) being poured!
Later
As I scan merrily along (just done the brilliantly tasteless A Private Function) I'm vaguely wondering what I shall watch tonight. It's 20:51, the crockpot was delicious (I think the Bramley makes all the difference) and the remainder of it is ready to decant into the fridge. And although twilight is well-advanced, it had brightened up more than somewhat last time I looked. Barometer's pretty low, though. Must have been one of those April shower things, I guess.
Coming and going
As I've mentioned, I've always been interested2 in 3-D presentation technologies, so this piece in Slate struck me as very interesting. I've tried both the anaglyph approach and the polarised glasses. And both in the form of movies and static slideshows. For a time, Junior's first 8-bit Sega console had a 3-D LCD glasses option, though the refresh rate of the display was far too low for extended use. But I'd never sat down and thought about the reasons for the (inevitable, eventual) splitting headaches...