2009 — 20 October: Tuesday
Not that bad a day. May the trend continue. Though Junior told me tonight that he now seems to be coming down with the same bug. Meanwhile, tonight's picture of Christa shows her beside the pond shortly after we'd (she'd) finished its construction:
That's a tiny yew tree on the left. It's now a whopper and shows no sign of wishing to stop growing. This would have been at the end of the 1980s. G'night.
Wot? No fever?
Good! (It's that that makes you feel wretched, generally.) Still, methinks I shall keep my virus remnants to myself for another day. It's apparently going to be wet and windy, coming in from the west. Looks just like autumn to me. It's 09:16 and a fresh cuppa dispels the worst of any gloom. Meanwhile, yet another reason not to go and live in China. (Cough, splutter.) I'm surprised viruses can survive there.
I was idly browsing some of the comments attached to John Gribbin's article about the "failure" of the Large Hadron collider to uncover the Higgs Boson when I stubbed my toe against this amazing offer. A steal!
"Dr No" is dead. (Source.) Elsewhere in that fine news organ, I acidly note the absence of any mention of an IBM executive. Not even seated on a toffat. How not very odd.
Our guvmint appears to have borrowed around 60% of the UK's total economic output. What a strange way to run a country.
Just back from...
... doing my bit to help out the local economy by taking a "healthy" lunch at Loomie's biker cafe. It's just 14:00 and the rain has returned in force. Grrr.
I've been poking at the new police crime maps, but they have woefully over-estimated their server's capacity to cope. And they fail to locate my postal code but place "Eastleigh" in the Gloucestershire 'catchment area'. (Source.)
The rain. The rain
It's very tedious and, if I believe the forecast I've just heard, there's yet more to come. Deep joy. It's 18:01 and I'm getting peckish.
Crikey! Something worth watching on TV. Whatever will they come up with next?
Isn't it always the way?
Your wife tidies up the kitchen shortly before her death. You come along two years later, looking for the kitchen scales you've had for (literally) years. Can you find them? Don't be silly — of course you can't! Typical. (Not that I need them for weighing food, of course.) It's 22:51 and I'm beginning to think about sleep. Probably the malingering effects of my (I hope, largely-vanquished) virus.