2010 — 20 June: Sunday
I have until Monday morning to clear out the kitchen cupboard under the sink. Should be an interesting voyage of discovery. There's also a fresh crockpot to be stuffed. But for now, sleep. G'night.
Early to rise...
Not all that early (of course) but it's only 07:56 and a cuppa is at hand. (Gotta protect that heart!) If I find the roll of black plastic waste sacks then I'm Tip(arary) bound with the carpet (what's left of it) from Christa's study and some disassembled cardboard document holders whose storage volume rather exceeds their load-bearing capacity. Still, they served both of us well over two decades. [Pause] "Tick, vg, David" Mission accomplished by 08:43 so you can now claim a second cuppa and some breakfast. I must say, if one has to pootle around the streets of Eastleigh, this is certainly the day and time to be doing it. (Or maybe everyone is hungover following a footie match. Who knows?)
Lofty ambitions
Although my working theory (one of them) is "if you haven't needed it in thirty months it may be redundant" — which I'm thinking of applying to the contents of the two sheds — on opening one of them to remind myself what (besides dead bikes) is in there, I'm confronted by wedged in hi-fi and video kit boxes. If I keep1 these at all, they'd do better tucked away in a far recess of the loft. So I shall tackle these before my plumber starts clambering and hammering around up there. A pre-emptive strike, if you will. But I must first stuff that crockpot if I want a tasty (rather than nasty) hot meal tonight. It's 09:28 and my NZ sister-in-law is asking about the health benefits of tea...
I see Christopher Hitchens is rabble-rousing again. Calling one-time Gordonstoun head boy the Prince of Piffle. Tsk, tsk.
Well, the aroma from the crockpot is already causing Pavlov's dog (me) to salivate, but there's still plenty to get done before I have the luxury of enjoying its contents. I shall break for a burst of "lemonses" and then start the wearisome task of shifting clutter around in the loft. And, possibly, disposing of some more of the dear girl's clothes. I've no intention of becoming a cross-dresser at my time of life :-)
BBC 6Music (and Cerys) is wonderful today. It's 11:41 — tick-tock. [Pause] Next tip trip coming up. Then a bite to eat... it's already 13:44 and a glorious day out there. [Pause] It's a lot more like Piccadilly Circus out there now. People visiting people for Father's Day lunches, perhaps? A bunch of ancient toys and board games have now left the building, as previously discussed with Peter, of course. I've retained the deluxe Scrabble and (for unfathomable reasons) the UK, US, and German editions of Monopoly. So, next up a late lunch, and then it's time to stir things up under the kitchen sink. It's 14:23 — tick-tock.
Generational gaps
Having only belatedly discovered the parsnip I'd forgotten to add to the rich mixture in the crock pot — a semi-senior moment, perhaps? — and having been sent this item earlier today...
... I was once again reminded of the fine quotation here by (I relatively recently discovered) Hans Küng. Not to mention that remark2 attributed to Isaac Newton about seeing further because he stood on the shoulders of giants.
Late lunch — a salad with a fairly ancient tin of sardines I should have eaten by last Christmas — having been late lunched, I shall now see if I can remember where the kitchen sink lurks these days. [Pause] Today's archaeological discoveries have included one of the fattest spiders I've ever seen in Shed #1, a whole set of garden tools I never suspected we owned3 in Shed #2, and (stuffed right at the back of the space beneath the kitchen sink) a 3 meter roll of 600 mm aluminium foil specifically for wrapping a turkey. (I shall skip over the various packs of baking yeast, the ancient cinnamon, the raisins, the solidified demerara, and the variety of bird food.)
Young Mr Cocker is on fine form. It's 17:19 and lovely weather out there. [Pause] Right! I declare "work" at an end for today. I'm fair tuckered. But quite a lot has been tidied away, or tipped, or dismantled pending final decisions. It's 17:53 and the prospect of a relaxing evening is a very pleasant one.
After a bath, and some laundry, sadly, my choice of viewing — the recently-delivered "Fierce people" — didn't turn out to suit my mood, so I'm going to curl up with the ever-reliable Jane (Austen) instead. Peter called, arranging to pop down at some point next weekend. I've warned him the accommodation prospects are sub-optimal for the time being. He may take one of the two bikes from Shed #1 back for his g/f (I didn't even realise it had been Christa's). Having just heard Tyler Rix (on Guy Garvey's BBC 6Music finest hour) playing his beautiful sax version of Eno's "An ending (ascent)" — the same music I'd used at the end of Christa's service — my order has just gone off to Amazon. Nice.