2010 — 15 January: Friday
Or, as I vaguely recall, TGIF. It's once again somewhat past midnight.1 I missed the cage fighting women, but watched the BBC4 profile of Brian Duffy. Always fun to recognise books I own on the shelves visible behind some of those being interviewed. Good to see Joanna Lumley back in 1967, too. I also popped my nose outside the front door. There's still more ice knocking around than is strictly necessary; the thermometer suggests it's all of +1C — Brrr.
G'night. At 00:41 or so.
And good morning...
... after a slothful "lie-in" at 09:52 or so. While my cuppa brews I'm listening to the Pinter again, but I can't say it's reached a happy point. Ice is fading away outside. When I'd looked around at about 07:00 it had been somewhat misty, too.
While I recall that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I still find this somehow a little depressing:
The national intelligence apparatus of the U.S. ... consists officially of 16 separate agencies, and unofficially of more than 20. Each
of these agencies is protected by strong political and bureaucratic constituencies, so that after each intelligence failure everything continues pretty much the same and usually with
the same people in charge.
We can fix this... One possibility that deserves serious consideration would be a consolidation of most existing agencies into four primary agencies...
This structure would mimic the United Kingdom's MI6, MI5, and GCHQ...
Whereas this (as I listen to an item about swans), I find a little more heartening. Also from Washington, by the way:
There is no media bias against Christianity. If it appears to some people that there is, it is probably because after decades of hyper-diplomacy and a generally accepted mutual understanding that religion was not to be criticized, we have finally begun breaking through that taboo and are beginning to see candid discussions of the varieties of religious folly in American life. Activities that would be condemned by all2 if they were not cloaked in the protective mantle of religion are beginning to be subjected to proper scrutiny.
But what about the other major belief systems, often with their equally imaginary and yet unassailable invisible friends? Not to mention their dislike of cartoons? Or free speech? Or freedom of choice?
Time to elevate my blood sugar, methinks! Done. Right, what's next? Well, Mr Postie (a new, even younger, specimen) dropped off two instances of my favourite kind of credit card bill — the first was for somebody else at a different address (but same house number), the second was for me but had nothing to pay on it. And, from Canada, comes tonight's viewing:
That's quite a cast. Very mixed reviews, I grant you, but who can trust a film critic? Meanwhile, there's a Peter Tinniswood3 play I don't know (Age Gap) on BBC7 that will take me nicely up to lunch with Len — if he remembers, of course.
He did. The inner man is satiated, and it's my treat next time. As of 13:47 it's +5C out there, quite busy on the roads, and still some patches of compacted ice on the pavements. Still a bit "Brrr" in other words. Let's see if I can find a cuppa somewhere with someone!
I know when I'm beaten... dept.
I've reverted to the sans-serif Verdana font for use on "molehole" — those of you who noticed and commented didn't seem to like my brief flirtation this week with the serif Georgia font. I still live in hope of serving more attractive fonts than the rather tiresomely restricted set of "web-safe" ones.
To console me in my disappointment, I'm now listening to the 12-part dramatisation of Trollope's superb "Palliser" novels. I first read these in 1972/3 while I was living in student "digs" in Hatfield and finding aeronautical engineering not entirely filling me up with cultural goodness.
The inner man has (at 19:15) once again been beaten into submission and the evening now stretches deliciously in front of me. I'm temporarily ignoring the dishes, since there's just one now soaking downstairs. So, cuppa to hand, what's next Mrs Landingham? Before HIGNFY, that is. (The film can wait until after that.)