2010 — 27 June: Sunday
The next crockpot has just embarked on its slow journey to nutritious tastiness. It will soon be time to see if the Young Master is stirring. I heard him retire, as it were, at about 02:30 but he seems dead to the world right now — it's 09:06 and starting to warm up again. A mere 20C in the hallway on first descent, but now up to 21C. Mention was made of being taken out to lunch. A grand scheme, in my opinion.
He's also going to take Christa's bike back with him for his g/f, freeing up yet more priceless space in the original shed. He seems to approve of the changes1 hereabouts, remarking enthusiastically "Dad, a radiator's just a radiator, you know?" Aah, the innocence of youth.
An email from niece #3 has confirmed that three-quarters of "Team NZ Mounce" intends to descend on their grandmother today up in the Midlands. Should be interesting.
Larkin(g) around
Just found my next book, I strongly suspect. (Source.) 7,500 pages of letters, heh? Why, that's more than I've written!
I must admit I'd given little or no thought to "conflict" minerals. (Source.) And, if you've the stomach for it, this is also an interesting read for anyone who has a heart. Intelligent design? Don't even go there.
Post-prandial hi-jinks
After a delicious lunch at Prezzo it was off to Ikea to buy two precisely-specified household items: a coffee table and a mirror. We're now (16:03) back, and he's just removed cobwebs from the bike before stowing it away into the non-capacious Toyota Aygo. It's been a very pleasant visit.
Naturally, I only noticed after he'd set off that he'd forgotten the little pack of woodscrews he's going to need to mount the mirror. I was too busy watering the porch thermometer to forestall it blowing its little top off. It was reading 44C in direct sunlight, and there's still some more of that up there. It's 19:18 and I've just learned that Al Stewart (who played the first-ever Glastonbury) played on the acoustic stage there yesterday. I can still clearly remember playing my copy of "Past, present and future" to Christa in the vicarage — a mind-boggling 36 years ago.
If I understand correctly, it seems the England footie fellas are on their way home to a less than rapturous welcome. Good job it's only a game, I guess. (Actually, I couldn't care less, but I'm sure Christa would have been tickled by who beat them.) It's 20:47 and just marginally cooler. I'm doing some database cleanup.
Maternal news
The nieces just called (en route back to London from a flying hospital visit) with optimistic news of dear Mama. She's basically now been given a clean bill of health, but the local team is to assess her capability for continued independent living with varying degrees of care team visits. They also gave her house a quick tidy-up, for which I'm inordinately grateful. The plumbing, cooker, and carpet chaos here at Technology Towers couldn't really have been worse timed, I guess. It's 21:41 and there's a pleasant breeze out there, so I've angled the skylight to catch it.
[Pause] Just answered an email inquiry from my Northampton aunt checking up on me and mater. I've been staring up at Ursa Major while cooling off under the skylight breeze. And listening to some amazing music from Glastonbury on good ol' BBC 6Music. But I'm tired, it's 23:26, and I'm heading for bed.