2009 — 6 June: Saturday
Yippee, pension day! I actually remembered to record the J Woss show earlier this evening, but only after it had already kicked off, so I still managed to miss Hugh Laurie. I gather there's a repeat very early on Sunday morning though (for whatever arcane reason) the BBC iPlayer won't let you replay the show until (I assume) after its last scheduled transmission.1 Still, at least I not only saw Dustin Hoffman, but have now ordered a DVD of his new film with the glorious Emma Thompson2 (which is, of course, already available on the other side of the pond).
Speaking of ponds, my next photo of Christa is very similar (though slightly more blurred) to the one here. They were taken just a few seconds apart, and a lifetime ago, on the 5th of May, 2007.
There's some possibility of a little ramble later today. Weather willing.
G'night.
A dullish start
But, at 08:21, it's not actually raining — yet. Let's see if a cuppa improves the outlook. I think today's phrase has to be semiotic promiscuity. I sympathise with Henry Jenkins' dilemma. Meanwhile (at 08:55) Mike has just phoned with news of grimmer weather over in Winchester than I'm currently experiencing, though the BBC forecast suggests I soon will be. So, no walkies today. Back to the reliable Brian Matthew and his sounds of the 60s while I chomp my breakfast.
I'm no fan of the Windows operating system, despite using it every day. I deleted my only Vista system, and replaced it by Ubuntu 9.04. Since receiving an email flyer from Novatech I've been looking vaguely into solid state discs and note that Windows 7 is to be more "friendly" towards them.3 I'm sourly amused to learn that "The entire install of Windows 7 will be smaller than Vista, making 16GB enough for a good Windows 7 experience." (Source.)
How will we differentiate a "good" experience from the more normal one, I wonder?
Standing up to scrutiny
There's currently an adjacent pair of stories on the Guardian's site. The first concerns nuclear test veterans winning the right to sue the MoD (and about bloody time too). The second concerns Berlusconi, who is to sue over nude pictures published of guests (apparently flown in on official jets) at a house and garden party at his 60-hectare Sardinian villa on a Spanish paper's web site. Naturally, I inspected these. I smile at the revelation that "One shows two young women topless, one wearing a tanga. Another is of a naked man standing by a swimming pool in what appeared to be a state of sexual arousal." (Source.)
I'm no judge, but an erection looks like sexual arousal to me. I must say, the Italians seem to have a more interesting PM than we do...
I'm well-chuffed. A steam train has just gone puffing by the house at 10:24. What an evocative sound.
My main co-pilot was poised with his camera at the recently repaired bridge.
Nasty small print
Mr Postie has just dropped off a credit card bill and the final set of Battlestar Galactica DVDs — a brand new set of discs, with an alarming disclaimer in the tiny tiny print. It's "life size" here until you click on it:
Is film stock so quick to deteriorate these days?
Aside to Christa
I've just filled a nice little bowl with strawberries, my love, though the red gooseberries are not yet ripe. The triffids are popping up in a number of new places, too. Time for a late "lemonses". It's 12:15 and still bright and breezy. I've trimmed the vine back in (I hope) the same way you were doing here. It's now time (13:37) for some lunch — crockpot to the rescue.
Just finished the excellent programme about Joni Mitchell's jazz collaborations with Charlie Mingus and others. And just managed to track down the running time of the final season Galactica DVDs — I ended up on the BBFC web site since the info doesn't appear on any of the case artwork or sleeves and I was simply too lazy to load each disc into a player and scan it. Still no rain; we missed a walkable day, methinks. But there will be others.
I've been reading Richard Beard's "Becoming Drusilla" — the only other Drusillas I recall offhand feature in "I, Claudius" (a vastly different kettle of fish). One was his niece, the other a sister of Caligula.
Year of the Cat
It's nice hearing the chap who used to call himself Cat Stevens after, what, over 30 years. I'm getting old, Christa!