2010 — 15 July: Thursday
Oops. It's gone midnight but my 1981 Telarc CD of "Carmina Burana" (Robert Shaw and the Atlanta Symphony) hasn't quite finished. For the trivia buffs, I bought that from Covent Garden records, at 84 Charing Cross Road, many years after the address had ceased to be a bookshop. I more often bought LaserDiscs there (and outrageously expensive1 they were, too). City Slickers II (for random example) cost me £34-99 from there:
City Slickers II on LaserDisc from Covent Garden Records
What's a (re)tired chap to do?
G'night.
P-P-P-Pick up a Puffin
Taken on a Canon EOS7D and sent overnight via Big Bro, who may or may not have been the shutter clicker. (If he was, I'm assuming he's granted permission for my use, though I have yet to tease him about his ever more sophisticated cameras.) I have no other details, but a pretty bird is a non-loathsome thing, is it not? Wonder if it's called Billy:
Time (07:54) to pick up my cuppa. Not only did I notice it got quite dark quite early last night, but it's been wet and windy, and is still drizzling. [Pause] Some lovely Arvo Part, but time to get dressed and make some breakfast. Somehow it's already 08:23.
I've managed to put the (surprisingly heavy) chest of drawers back under the stairs, but have rotated it through 90 degrees so it's actually possible to access the shelving at the back, too. Mind you, both it and the shelves are currently empty, as I can't yet figure out what to keep there. Need a cuppa to clarify my thoughts. It's 10:30 and the rain is easing off. I have my next batch of crockpot filling to nip out and buy at some point — Big Bro cannot exist on his usual diet of over-cooked red meat if I'm paying. Nor have I yet burned off the oil residues on the cooker (though it's become cool enough to make that feasible), so he may miss out on his fried breakfasts. Wonder if he's ever eaten salad? One is never too old to learn (or so I've heard).
Once again, I also have to clear a path to Junior's bed for BB, not to mention clear said bed. It's mind-boggling how stuff accretes around here as soon as my back is turned. (It's less than two weeks since that bed was slept on, and now it's barely visible. Inconceivable.) <Sigh>
Where's that cuppa you were going to make me? Oh, stop nagging. Can't you see I'm busy? Yes, but I'm thirsty! It's 11:16 dammit. Oh, OK then, but it's your fault if nothing's
ready in time. Yeah, right, my fault, blame me, that's a good ploy. Who else is there?
Shut up and listen to your new "Word" CD :-)
The Doors
One of my favourite bands, and one of Christa's too, long before we met in 1974. Having nipped out in between showers to grab needed ingredients, I've been lunching and listening to Robby Krieger and Ray Manzarek on Nemone's BBC 6Music show. The film When you're strange sounds interesting. It's now 14:29 so I'd better resume the domestic stuff shifting.
After a short...
... nap to fix the sudden post-lunch drop in energy level (haven't done that for quite a while) my misadventures continued with a short trip back down to Audio T to pick up a fulsome hand-written apology from the Chord cable company and two boxes of freebies by way of tangible compensation — in fact, several hundred pounds worth of replacement speaker cables and a stereo interconnect that alone costs more than my latest Freesat box. Definitely far above and beyond the usual uninspired level of customer service. I shall be writing to thank them.
As I manoeuvred out of the little car park by Audio T (and after quickly assessing the dreadfully-clogged state of the traffic between where I was then and where I live now, caused by a railway bridge hole-in-the-road and temporary traffic lights causing chaos) I then decided it was perfect timing for an opportunistic trip over to Roger and Eileen to claim my free cuppa (cheeky, I know) and show off my audio goodies.
I'm now (20:18) back at Technology Towers, have connected the magic string, and am enjoying the results while gently digesting a culinary first: a "fidget pie" from the Waitrose deli counter. I have also chucked out the remainder of the smooth chicken pate, which I fear I found disgusting. Next move, a cuppa, while I contemplate my pudding choices. A fresh orange, methinks, will do nicely.