2010 — 3 September: Friday

It's nice and bright sunshine out there again and, just as soon as cuppa #1 is safely onboard, I expect I shall start to wake up. It's 08:35 but I've already noted that ERNIE has treated me with disdain this month. If he thinks nine prizes in six months is enough, he's wrong.

I'm predicting1 a brief hop over to see dear Mama this afternoon ahead of Big Bro's visit this Sunday. I doubt that she'll recall it — my visit or his plans — but I've been mentioning the subject every time I've seen her for the last month. Ever onward.

Don't'cha love it...

... when a chief rabbi[t] (and a noble lord, at that) accuses an astrophysicist with a world-class mind of committing an elementary fallacy of logic? (Said fallacy looks to me far more like a nifty piece of linguistic legerdemain on the part of the rabbi[t].)

There is a difference between science and religion. Science is about explanation. Religion is about interpretation. The Bible simply isn't interested in how the universe came into being... But there is more to wisdom than science. It cannot tell us why we are here or how we should live. Science masquerading as religion is as unseemly as religion masquerading as science.

Riazat Butt in The Guardian

Excuse me, but what's the bible got to do with the price of tea in China? Besides, what's the "Guardian" doing with a "religious affairs" correspondent polluting the shades of Pemberley in its "science" section in the first place? I shall have to cancel my subscription. Wait, I already did that.

Now I'm awake.

The body politic

I'm listening to the final excerpt from the Mullin diaries ("a panic needs to be organised in good time for the election") while reading the various nuggets in this interesting piece.

178 minus 6 equals ?

As I was on my way back from B&Q,2 I thought I might as well swing into the self-storage warehouse and pick up the first six cartons of books. Been there, done that. Time for a cuppa. [Pause] Time for lunch. [Pause] Time to fit the new toilet seat. [Pause] Time to hit the road. I've decided a visit to dear Mama is (slightly) preferable to unpacking six cartons of books, with all the associated angst of deciding which to keep and which to part with. But not very :-)

I knew cycling was more dangerous than riding in a car. But I didn't know walking was so hazardous. (Source.)


Good move to avoid the motorway on the way back from Winchester. Typical jam-packed Friday late afternoon traffic. As far as I can tell, there's zero chance that dear Mama will remember the fact that Bro and I will see her together in 48 hours; she doesn't even remember the fact that she gets afternoon tea-and-a-cake every day — while being quite convinced she "hoovers" her room every day. This would be funny, if only it were funny. Sadly, it isn't. It's a pathetic end to the mental life of what was an intelligent woman. Intelligent Design? Don't make me vomit.

It occurs to me — we had a Hoover once!

Hoover and Peter



1  And have cunningly lined up a comfort cuppa for afterwards.
2  My nice new toilet seat had thrown their automated scan and checkout system into a wobbly loop. It identified the item, and correctly displayed both its price and description, but then single-mindedly insisted (in that charming but relentless way that only really badly-programmed computer systems can manage) that my mandatory next step had to be to put the item on the scales, remove the item from the scales, put the item on the scales, etc etc