2009 — 15 September: Tuesday
I had no idea how long it would take to prepare1 my little batch of damsons to lay them in strips alternating with sugar in a preserving jar. The answer was over 90 minutes. The whole shooting match is now busily soaking up a semi-lethal volume of vodka and has been stashed at the back of a cupboard space beside the sink. My drinks tutor2 asserts it should be ready for (does he mean "fit for"?) consumption by Christmas, but will continue to improve with age...
Tonight's picture of Christa:
I don't know what she did with that green "military" sweater — I still have my RAF-blue one from that same distant era. G'night.
Shock, horror
It's already 10:48 and I've only been awake for about 30 minutes. Tut, tut! It's dry, quite bright, bit cloudy all around. The bin men have just "bin", the first cuppa is busily "tannin" my stomach lining, and — I suppose — I'd better load some breakfast. Today may yet find me on an adventure up aloft in the loft. I've caught a bit of a tidy-up bug. You never know when it might be cured.
I've removed...
... some content on this page, in case it was causing a problem. Now, that's a first!
R.I.P. Patrick Swayze
About whom Rob Lowe said "Patrick lived a thousand lifetimes in one lifetime. He was an expert dancer, he wrote hit songs, he starred in hit movies, he was an amazing horseman. But the thing I will remember him most for was his amazing love affair with his wife, Lisa. He played my brother twice, in The Outsiders when I was 17, and then in Youngblood. Tonight I lost a brother." (Source)
Back to bugs
The BBC's scare story sent me scurrying to fit the new shower head that Christa and I bought about six years ago!
Let's ignore their bed bugs story!
I'm fed up of hearing the opposed views on the causes3 of the recession, the cures for the recession, the inevitability of "cuts", the absurd refusal to use the word "cuts", and the frankly dim style of "questioning" to elicit this so-called "news". So, back to music. This week's choice is different from last week's "Look of Love", but just as interesting, and moving, for that matter. Tonight's examination of a choir looks like worthwhile watching, too.
What a tip
Having just unburdened myself of two plastic sacks of "Shoes, not mine", one of "Slides, not ours", one of "Books, not mine", and one of "Empty DVD cases, all mine" (plus a random VHS tape I discovered lurking) I now know what (I suspect) Christa had long known: the best time to visit our local domestic refuse recycling centre is in the middle of a wet Tuesday afternoon. I was also quite heartened to find a) the car can hold quite a lot when I'm its only occupant, and b) enough healing time has now elapsed to avoid what would, even just a few months ago, probably have been yet more tears.
And I can now "re-purpose" (dreadful word) the three-drawer little chest of drawers under the stairs to hold any CDs I choose to relocate within easy reach of the fabulous new CD player without further cluttering up the living room. A result. (See here for the last such I can recall! [Grin])
I half-caught one of those silly "And, finally..." snippets on an NPR programme earlier today. Yes, Virginia, there may not be a Santa Claus, but there really are plans afoot for a Chicken Empathy Museum — in Virginia, of course.