2009 — 6 September: Sunday

Having got done a tiny fraction of the things I intended to get done, it's already after midnight, and time therefore for tonight's picture of Christa. In the Old Windsor living room, in 1977:

Christa in 1977

Heigh ho. I did manage to read the IBM Pensions annual Members' Report that plopped on to the door mat half a day ago. I admit I focused on the bit that said "These proposals only affect employees". Tomorrow (as Christa always used to tell me) is another day, so I've decided not to do worrying any more. G'night.

It's only a word, Monica

Somehow, I've reached my present advanced age (and, let's face it, I'm never going to be as young as I am today) without need of the Urban Dictionary. I've just been listening to an interview (on NPR) with its founder. Oddly, the dictionary led me to a rumination on that excellent film "Into the Wild". What a web. Time (08:47) for my first cuppa.

While NPR is repeating the recent interview with Loudon Wainwright III, I've finally found the round tuit I needed to catch up with some of the recent influx:

DVDs

Breakfast and a packed lunch next.

"Bookworm"

I have my suspicions about the identity of some of the book reviewers who toil anonymously within the pages of Private Eye's "Literary Review" feature. The current issue takes a gentle pop at Jenni Diski's look at the Sixties. And (if my suspicion about the identity of this particular reviewer is correct) he wrote a similar examination, under the same title, rather nearer the time and events involved. Back in 1982, to be precise. But I liked this:

It's easily forgotten that the salient sociological fact about the Sixties was not the drugs or the free love but the fact that it was probably the first decade in which a majority of the population enjoyed access to an indoor toilet.

Anon in Private Eye


Time for walkies. I also harbour a dark suspicion that yesterday's purchase — a new, light-weight waterproof jacket — may well get its first off-road test today.

Later

Back, just before 15:00, from a 6.2 mile ramble around the vicinity of Brockenhurst interwoven with some mushroom gathering. Just read, and discarded, a somewhat paranoid1 email from a college chum of Christa's over in the Canaries. Purportedly, Tamiflu injections in Germany contain nano-chips designed to keep tabs on the population. I doubt it, somehow! Besides, if "they" want to "chip" me, all they have to do is sabotage the Typhoo teabag factory.

Crikey, this told me a lot about why my Blu-ray player does (or does not) do certain stuff. There's more good stuff here specific to my Oppo machine.

One delicious hot bath, two cuppas, and one washing machine load later, and I now have time to catch up with the rest of the minor recent influx before I hit the road for the evening:

Stuff

  

Footnotes

1  I admit, many years ago, I wore a lapel badge that said "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you".
2  Not strictly true, although possible to deduce.