2010 — 20 January: Wednesday
I have to admit there's a certain irony in having so recently dismissed TV in favour of radio. I've just finished a fairly spell-binding evening of being a couch potato in front of some truly fine TV. I kicked off with last night's "Nurse Jackie", and followed it with the geology documentary on the hi-def channel,1 capping that with Rory Bremner (of all people) and the last part of the "Dear Diary" season. To see Victoria Wood so emotionally tangled with Housewife 49 (aka Nella Last), let alone Jane Clark safe-guarding husband Alan's journals in his castle, or Edwina Currie justifying her decision to document her affair with John Major, or Robert Scott's final journal entry, or (of course) the old reliable himself.
Worth every penny of the BBC licence fee for just this one evening, if you ask me... G'night. Or should that be: "and so to bed"?2 It's 00:29 and not yet snowing (or whatever it is we've been promised.)
Ah-ha! The black bin collection is explained — thanks, Roger.
My indefatigable researcher...
... from over the road has been on a mission to convince me my Australian hat has a fishy component. This morning he's found an "Akubra Banjo" with a band made from Barramundi, but this is neither the make nor the model of mine. Meanwhile, I face yet another trip to Dr Fang (in addition to the hygienist, tomorrow, that is) as I managed to break off a chunk while flossing last night. The mirror twin of last night's little disaster was the one ...
... whipped out in Germany 35 years ago by Herr Professor Doktor whatever-his-name was. (Long since repressed.) Poor design, if you ask me. And probably not a good idea to ask why I kept it, too. Let alone how I knew where it was when (for example) I still can't find the kitchen scales.
It's a pity Gyles Brandreth3 visited Anthony Clare so relatively late (5 November 1999). Clare (whose death in 2007 passed me by) gave him his seven steps to happiness:
- Cultivate a passion
- Be a leaf on a tree
- Avoid introspection
- Don't resist change
- Live in the moment
- Audit your happiness
- Be happy
It occurs to me that Christa had these nailed down long ago. Number #8, of course, is keep your blood sugar up. Time (10:14) for carefully-munched breakfast.
And, almost before I know it, time (13:49) to digest my lunch and contemplate a short but necessary trip out. It's a bit drizzly, and only +2C. Furthermore, my spy tells me there is snow in Newbury. Brrr.
One vast conspiracy...
... seems to exist, whose sole purpose is to deprive me of the next issue of The Word magazine. Either that, or it came out, and sold out, before I even started looking this year. Still, I got a fresh supply of labels (a lifetime supply, I expect) for my DVD storage system. It's funny. In my salaried days (which was the last time I bought any) I thought nothing of the price. Now, in my pensioner's mite days, I find myself wondering how dare they cost so much. Back in time (15:50) to catch some of the Mussorgsky "pictures" before my next dollop of Trollope. In time, too, to make a cuppa.
It's still drizzling and has dipped to a rather cool +1C out there at the moment. I overlooked, by the way, the recent profile of the late Clement Freud in my list of last night's excellent TV. I particularly liked his "headstone": Best before 15.04.2009
I was, until a few minutes ago, blissfully unaware of speech codes.
Can you believe it?
Well, Christa, "they" are going to demolish the dreadful eyesore that is the waterfront building in Bournemouth. What a waste of money. Amazing. (Source.)
Later
It's nice to see that Radcliffe & Maconie make me smile whether I feel like it or not. They're rabbiting on about "American Graffiti", which Christa saw with me in Staines in 1974. I must be getting old... :-)
I'm tired. I think I shall declare it time for sleep, perchance to dream or, failing that, to read Trollope until my eyes slam shut. So what if it's only 21:57? Busy day tomorrow. Besides, it's midwinter.
This globe is way too cool for comment! And this is fascinating, if a little heavy for the time of day.