2009 — 13 October: Tuesday
Tonight's picture of Christa is from 1978, in Old Windsor:
As I wait for the bowl of washing up water to cool to the point where I can actually stick my hands in it... I can confess to an evening of shameless TV vegetating. I began with the high-def variant of the BBC's "Emma" (which kept a smile on my face for most of the hour). That was followed by the fascinating portrait of Robert Noyce, co-founder of Intel. And how better to follow that than with the "comedy drama" of Clive Sinclair versus Chris Curry? Haven't done that for ages.
Don't know why the Humax HD PVR needed to be rebooted before I could change channels, however. (On power on it defaults to the BBC HD channel, but it then refused to budge.) Ho hum. Plums? Stewed. Crockpot? Awaiting my attention in a few hours from now. Other plans? Who can say? G'night.
And it came to pass...
... that it's 09:52, the crockpot has been stuffed and is now heating up. (The tinned Italian plum tomatoes are a variant, not being chopped, and not being mixed with garlic and olive oil — I shall await developments.) Second cuppa ready, and the appetite for breakfast not yet apparent. It's sunny but chilly this morning. I hope the replacement boiler thermocouple is found sooner rather than later. Brrr.
As a lad, I recall the brief fuss about "Project ZETA" (and even believe I know what it stood for without benefit of this Interweb). Not that I knew what "toroidal" meant. I was unaware, however, that the president of Argentina claimed back in 1951 that a group of scientists had managed controlled nuclear fusion. (Source.)
On a related front, I'm always amused (though not in a good way) to see or hear "customer experience" spokespeople saying things like the radiation levels are "super safe". So reassuring. It's also odd to see the claim that "The images ... cannot be stored or captured in any way" in an article reproducing a stored image! Neat trick, that. (Source.)
One hesitates to count...
... one's chickens (and all that) but my plumber chum rang to say he will pop round after work and before baby-sitting duties start with a replacement thermocouple that he's been told "should fit" my venerable boiler. I shall have to re-raid the piggy bank.
Unhatched
Sadly, the new (generic) thermocouple doesn't fit the existing bracket, so there's a return bout set for Friday afternoon. Fingers crossed. Time (18:39) to break into the latest batch of crockpot magic. Yum! (I hope.)
Well, tasty, but perhaps a little tomato-heavy. The score to date (after a visit from Roger) now stands at three birthday cards, all hinting at my vast age. Cheek! If Mr Postie isn't yet on strike, perhaps I'll get another card or two to tip the balance. I'm going to go downstairs and snuggle up to the plasma fire while the plasma screen entertains me. I think I shall try "Babel".
Well, I lasted 37 minutes or so, but find myself agreeing with the reviewer on IMDB who branded it as "vapid". I think I prefer films that give me a warm comfortable feeling over those that encourage stomach ulcers. What's next, Mrs Landingham?