2009 — 29 August: Saturday

By some mysterious process, it is once again considerably after midnight — to the tune, as it were, of nearly 120 minutes — so a picture of Christa, and then some overdue shuteye:

Christa in the Old Windsor kitchen, late 1970s

I've been remiss in tracking some recent incoming entertainment material, but now isn't the time to deal with that. G'night.

Running in — please pass...

The reader or two here older even than I am may yet recall that phrase in the back window of the occasional car back when petrol cost less than 5/- a gallon (and there's an algebraic-looking phrase to fox the younger reader). But I admit I didn't realise the concept also applied to loudspeakers. The manufacturer recommends a minimum of 15 hours of "normal use" while a variety of knowledgeable-sounding coves lurking around on this Interweb malarkey suggest at least twice that before, as it were, I push the pedal1 to the metal out on the audio autobahn. Well, I live much of my life to a musical soundtrack,2 so that's no hardship.

Breakfast, therefore, is to the accompaniment of "Sounds of the 60s". Quite normal for a Saturday morning hereabouts. However, I've forgotten to pick up a new "Radio Times" so there's one little taskette while I'm out on the foody trail some time later today.

More pretty pixels

I've refreshed, as it were, the picture of my main living room system. And here's the "new" right surround speaker on its stand at the rear of the room. Happily, the two Castle Avons fitted on to these (supposedly TV) stands with about one inch of ceiling clearance:


That's Opus (my hero and life-style guru) and his magnificent proboscis poking out from behind...


A present (inevitably) from Christa.


The unaccompanied violin is marred only by the occasional background rumble of traffic. Amazing. Or maybe it's my tum? Definitely time (13:33) for a spot of lunch. And then the delights of afternoon shopping. Can't put it off much longer if I wish to eat in future.

Before I know it...

... it's time (19:02) for the evening meal. The shopping sortie utterly failed to turn up a second little battery for my spare car key. (I resented mightily paying £6-56 in the Toyota service shop for one replacement, and had in any case forgotten to bring along the spare key.) The local "Comet" also failed to stock even the pitiful selection of speaker cable that its slightly bigger cousin had on display down in Millbrook. (That was where I whiled away the wait for the car service to be completed yesterday. It was also where Mike took me to inspect the 52" Samsung TV he'd just bought. That little escapade seems a mighty long time ago now!)



1  The audio equivalent must, surely, consist of turning the amplifier all the way up to eleven! (Or until your spine starts to tap?)
2  Much like "Grofield" in the excellent series of hard-boiled thrillers by the late Donald E Westlake. Or perhaps like the Bruce Willis character in that underrated film Hudson Hawk.