2010 — 21 September: Tuesday
Another relaxing dollop of "West Wing" last night. Now things are off to a misty start at 08:41 and a "healthy" breakfast beckons at Loomies in an hour or so. Then I suspect I'll pop over to the care-home, via a Thorntons choccie shop and back via the storage warehouse. I shall be giving them written notice of my vacating their premises in the next week or so to save the £93/month fee.
My partner in (walking) crime...
... snuck back yesterday to snaffle some sloes and to look out for a fungal view that another pair of walkers had recommended to us the previous day. This wasn't it, but click the pic for a bigger1 view:
BBC Radio 3 has just characterised the slight mist out there as "fog". I used it to clean the car — it works jolly well.
Tolerant? Me?
It's entirely possible that I'm a self-deluding fool, but I like to think, and I like to think I'm a reasonably tolerant sort of chap. So although I was amused at the story of the Irish minister for science attending the launch of an anti-evolution book by a chum of his I initially decided not to link to it. (Besides, he's now been better advised, and has pulled out so the story loses some of its charmlessness.) However, as I was thinking "Well, what actual harm do these guys do with their strange beliefs as long as they leave me alone?" I then was reminded by Ben Goldacre's column on the pope and AIDS that — actually — their strange beliefs help kill people, so to hell with them.
Story of chap initially supporting the launch of a
silly2 book.
Story of chap doing a lot of medical harm around the world.
I would comment about "strange attractors" but let's not go there.
Smile! The pope has compared atheists to Nazis; wasn't he in the Hitler youth as a lad? Crikey.
If I ever needed...
... a reason not to get on a plane ever again, the story behind this graphic would be it:
"SkyRider" indeed.
Phew
Hot or not, it's hard work lugging all the book cartons around. There are 18 remaining in the warehouse, and I've just formally given my written notice to quit, as it were. Two more trips should do the trick. Now, what's next for this sunny/cloudy afternoon? It's 13:36 and I'm partially knackered already. [Pause] Good to see that Staples has a sense of humour. Rather than perform attempt #3 to supply the remaining two undamaged bookcases, they've sent me an offer for some free kitchen stuff. Providing I buy something else, of course. Wait, they've just sent another notice of an impending delivery.
I have a theory: most people don't have a clue about how their PC applications work, let alone how to get the most out of them.3 Today's example, revealed by the phone call from the mechanic chaps who will be doing my car service tomorrow. "Was I coming? They had a blank email from me..." The blank email was the return receipt that they'd requested on their email to me to notify them when I received it. I replied separately, of course, but nobody reads email, do they?
Software, heh? Recall Weinberg's anecdote.
Having debated,...
... albeit very briefly, with myself I decided to push on and empty the warehouse, so I now have a living room again stuffed full of cartons (oh, my back). But there's a tangible sense of achievement, and I'm going to reward myself with a long-overdue cuppa. It's 17:07 and my next adventure is the car's "MOT" and annual service tomorrow afternoon. Wonder if I can find a book to read? Of course, I fully expect Murphy's Law to strike — Mr UKMail is sure to deliver the bookcases while I'm in sunny Millbrook.
It's 22:50 and I'm wiped out for the day. Only 12 cartons still left to unpack...