2009 — 8 May: Friday

Tonight's picture of Christa, again probably taken in 1976 in Old Windsor, shows her frowning horribly smiling beautifully at me (as usual!):

Christa in Old Windsor, 1976

I wonder if dear Mama recalls that this would have been my father's 92nd birthday? Probably not. G'night.

If you think we're bad... dept.

Aah, the old "political wriggling" game:

"I know people will be very angry and concerned about this, but I do want to reassure people that we have recognised there's a problem and we've already taken action on this."
The leader of the Commons also insisted that British politics did not have "the level of corruption" that was found in "many other countries" and that the government had already started to reform the rules.

Harriet Harman quoted in The Guardian

That's OK then — I'm, like, so totally reassured we've still got a bitchin' guvmint. (I was worried for a moment. Silly ol' me.)

On a more important (weather) front, we're getting some rain but the clouds are already rather brighter at 09:32 or so. And there was a brief burst of Tomita on BBC Radio 3; not an everyday occurrence. By the way, the recent molehole outage was "an issue following an upgrade to CentOS-5.3". A cluster of twenty servers was affected — the one that hosts molehole was fixed within three hours. Fingers and toes now crossed. (If it ain't broke, please don't fix it, guys.)

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the sunshine, the twit upstairs turned the tap back on. So, a delayed "lemonses" at 11:32 to the sound of raindrops.

Having grabbed the proverbial quick bite to eat, I can continue listening to the politicians wriggling on the national afternoon news as each explains how their many and varied expense claims were invariably made within the rules, or I can nip out for a burst of fresh air and sunshine. No-brainer. Ciao.

That's better

Back from town at 15:04 without buying a single thing. It happens — not that often, I admit. Nice and sunny, with the Orb's fluffy white clouds batting around; the incipient migraine (that is, the multi-coloured zig-zags in my visual field) banished to wherever it hides, and (it seems) no let-up in the relentless commentary on those fine folk in Westminster who toil so selflessly on our behalf with no regard for personal reward... Time to twitch that dial (technically, push that pre-set).

Green Manalishi man

I shall make a point of watching this tonight. It's the sort of programme (I hope) that could persuade me the BBC licence fee is too low. But, of course, that feeling generally dissipates when I contemplate the vast majority of the c**p that is broadcast.

Yep, it was fascinating. Now, what's next? Bed soon, I guess.