2010 — 18 July: Sunday
Try as I might, since the misadventure of the dislocated toe during the previous carpet installation exercise here in the living room...
On Monday the carpet fitters rang up and asked if they could come right away (one day early). Of course, we said yes and I stayed at home to shift stuff around, unplumb the hi-fi, and so on. And, while kneeling to pay homage to my amplifier when reconnecting it, there was an almighty click as I popped the big toe of my left foot out of its socket/joint or whatever the bit is that stops it flapping on the floor. Having spent the next minute or so howling and cursing while hopping and laughing, and the following half an hour trying to phone my local doctor to see whether I should go straight to hospital, Christa and Peter unsympathetically returned and whisked me off for an X-ray in Southampton General just in case.
... I find it difficult to sit for too long on my supposedly healthy "body" chair ...
... because it bends my toes1 too far back. Ho hum. The amplifier I was lifting at the time was a stonking great and very clean-sounding Hitachi early power MOSFET device review sample that I'd somehow permanently acquired. (I ended up giving it to Christa's brother Georg [to his delight, as far as I could tell, though I think Gisela was rather dubious] to free up some space. Come to think of it, that's been a familiar theme over the years.)
Right. Time (00.39) for bed despite all the fine music on offer from Bob Harris on BBC Radio 2.
G'night.
Listening, as I am...
... to a rather downbeat Patti Smith track played by an amiable redhead yclept "Jo Good" (whose BBC bio needs a good bit of poofredding) ...
... on my preferred station while drinking, as I am, cuppa #1, I'm thinking I've done a pretty good job on putting the living room back "together" in its revised layout. One room down, as it were, and rather too many to go.
It's looking (at the moment) like perfect strolling weather, but there's a spot of breakfast to negotiate first. Not to mention the hunt for my walking socks. It's 09:14 or thereabouts.
Don't know if anyone followed this recent link, but it shows (among other data) the original forecast for the cost of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan ($60 billion [forecast in 2003] and $3000 billion [2009 figure]) and can now be supplemented by the ghastly graphic here...
... to which I was led via the latest nasty suicide bombing story. Meanwhile Damian Green (our immigration minister) has said a "burka ban" would be "un-British". And apparently Zsa Zsa Gabor has fallen out of bed. I see the silly season is upon us. What a weird world.
Nearly time to get out and clear my head, I think. Breakfast first, though, and a clothe or two.
In approximate priority...
... self into shower, clothes into washing machine, fresh cuppa into self, a quick nibble of lunch and then off to Waitrose to help make Bro's stay more enjoyable. But not too enjoyable, of course :-)
It's 14:13 and we did six miles or so around Twyford, starting from Shawford, on a walk new to both of us. It was warm and very humid.
Big Bro has landed...
... nearly two hours ago, in fact. I was just about to set off on that shopping trip when he squeezed on to the drive in his hired Polo, so I left him to make a cuppa while I went out to stock up. I've now wired him up, defined him as a non-intruder, and he's emailing the results of our little planning session down to NZ. (Told you he was an ace planner.)
Meanwhile, Mike has kindly sent over the photo I took, using his splendid Nikon, of an intriguing bit of flora. Click the pic for the fuller version:
Don't have a clue what it is, but I thought its architecture was pretty wonderful.