2010 — 26 September: Sunday
Most odd1 — no matter what time I head for bed I now seem to wake up just over six hours later. So this (sunny) morning, having enjoyed my first cuppa while the central heating was kicking in (far more silently than its predecessor, I might add) and it was still basically dark I've just finished Temple Grandin's updated "Thinking in pictures", cleaned the condensation off the car windscreen, noted it was a mere 4C out there, and decided where to try next to get my 12 shelves. If I can't get them from the giant B&Q at Lord's Hill I shall be surprised.
Before that, though, there's the matter of breakfast and a local stroll with Mike around Shawford. It's 08:22 and highly autumnal. Joan Armatrading on BBC 6Music; what's not to like?
Speaking of shelves... I was idly assessing the gaps on the shelves in Peter's room as he continues the slow process of moving out. So that's where my "Lensman" books are. I was reminded of their absence (as it were) when reading this only slightly silly piece. I wonder if I will ever re-read the saga? (I remember it even featured in the 1966 novel "The watch below" by James White — I read that before I'd tracked down and bought all six2 of the "Doc" Smith books.)
Time (08:55) for a bite to eat. Need the calories for the walk.
In another universe...
Yep! I was pretty sure this was still on my shelves. It cost me a staggering 21 shillings from "Dark They Were and Golden-Eyed" back in 1969.
I note the variant cover design here. Perhaps my edition had to be changed because of its artwork.
Somewhat later
It's 15:02 — the walk was very satisfactorily walked, (the rain held off, and we had some useful chatter about storage systems3), lunch was then lunched, and then it was time to scoot over to that giant B&Q where a nice young giant helped me select, carry, and then slice neatly down to size six Contiboard "planks" into eight bookshelves for the landing and the remaining four (of eight) for the front of the living room. Roughly speaking, I'm gaining another 16 metres of shelf space. Of course, I first have to drill 30 neat holes into my breeze block walls, plug them, and attach five uprights.
Well, second. First is a fresh cuppa.
Bibliophilia all around
Thinking that Peter and Peter's g/f must be diving in sunny warm water by now, I find myself wondering if he remembers us taking him for two weeks to neighbouring Lanzarote in the mid-1980s? It was during that holiday he made a conceptual breakthrough, suddenly realising he actually didn't need anybody to read his "Emil the Detective" book to him. After that, there was (literally) no stopping him — must be where I get it from... Come to think of it, when I wasn't lifting a book gently from his clutches and switching off his bedside light I was usually doing the same for Christa — and removing her glasses in later years.
On that tack:
It's been one of those weeks. Peter gave me a fright last night. There I was watching a tape I'd made of an amazing stage performance called Give 'em hell, Harry (Truman) just after 11.30 and he yells down "Dad!!" (Christa being sound asleep next door to him). I figure either he's just redecorated his room one way or another or found a burglar at the very least. No. All he wants to do is tell me he's now finished a 200-page book of science fantasy stories aimed at teenagers and, if you please, he'd like another one, and, by the way (yawn) what time is it?! Kids!
I still remember, too, how shocked both Christa and I were in 1976, on our first inspection of the house4 we bought in Old Windsor, to find it contained not a single book.
Butting heads
Mike was exercising his Nikon despite the general lack of sunshine:
Wonder what Dr Grandin would have to say?
Taking a brief break from yet further book-shifting (to clear the ground upstairs for the new shelves), and ignoring the nettle stings inflicted while harvesting another dozen or more pears, I've been reading this at my chum Ian's suggestion. It will give us some material to chew over when I see him on Tuesday. Meanwhile, Jarvis Cocker is doing a grand job and has just promised us some TS Eliot.
Of what programming environment (if that's what it is) do you suppose this has been said?
Very complex, poor documentation, many gotchas. To succeed you have to be very smart and very single. Up there with the classic hard things of modern times: landing the Space Shuttle on a rainy night, hitting a major-league fast ball, or explaining Dan Quayle to an extraterrestrial.
Phew!
The eight larger shelves (120cm each) on the landing are now up, and populated...
... just in time for me to collapse downstairs to the sounds chosen by Guy Garvey. Earlier, I caught a wonderful track ("Rocket Falls" by Yanqui UXO — no, I'd never heard of this either) during the Freak Zone; my order is with Amazon as I type. Now, where's that refreshing cuppa?