2010 — 22 October: Friday
Sleep having fled rather earlier1 than usual this morning, I've given up making or reviewing mental "to do" lists, made a cuppa, got up, and started my pottering regime, as it were, while still in the dark. I must say, you do seem to get a whole different flavour of radio at this unusual hour. I've also fired up the iMac lest it feels neglected, so there's another huge dollop of Java update now settling down in its new home.
Until a few minutes ago, I was blissfully unaware of the existence of a "Guardian" sports blog. Having read this weird item...
... I'm neither wiser, nor considerably better-informed. Is it some form of satire? I obviously need another cuppa.
Brighter later
Just back from an irritating 20-minute wait to pay in two cheques at my local bank. (I didn't trust their magic machine to read them as they're both hand-scrawled, and it had just eaten another customer's cheque while I queued.) My bank had somehow failed to tell me the branch is closing for a couple of weeks while they (no doubt expensively) repaint it to look like Santander rather than Alliance. And I also heard the financial advisor telling a client that she recommends closing the savings account linked to the current account (the same setup I have) because it now pays next to zip. That, too, is something she could have told me, I feel. Mind you, I'd already noticed that the monthly interest from my current account adds up to more in a year than the annual interest from said "savings" account. I tell you, the system is broken.
Still, my IBM pittance has allowed me to fill in the gaps in Mother Hubbard's cupboard with some fine comestibles from Waitrose and, unless my young relatives descend on me again, I should survive until next week. (It took me a day to put the kitchen back together though I have to admit the bathroom has never been so clean in all its years.) It's only 10:46 and the sun is shining away up there. Time for a cuppa, I think.
Having cautiously corrected my sister-in-law's misuses of an apostrophe, this might make her smile again:
After the apprentice effort What's New Pussycat? (missing, like the song it references, a direct-address comma), Allen redeemed himself and reached some measure of creative maturity with What's Up, Tiger Lily?, a charming and, more to the point, brilliantly punctuated feature. From there, he was borne forward on a wave of good comma-ic energy. The year 1972 brought another direct-address victory in Play It Again, Sam, shortly followed by the creatively but rigorously punctuated Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex*/ *But Were Afraid To Ask. From there, the triumphs of Annie Hall, Manhattan, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Crimes and Misdemeanors, all beautifully and necessarily unpunctuated, seemed inevitable.
At some point in the mid-1990s, though, curious things began to happen... By 2000, the director had inflicted on the world something called Small Time Crooks — not, in fact, a film about dwarf ne'er-do-wells who steal time, although Copy-Editing the Culture might have found that premise more rewarding.
Then again, it might not.
Some days, I think...
... to myself: "What's the point of being mobile, almost solvent, and retired, if I can't treat myself to a nice, tasty lunch that I haven't first prepared for myself?" The inevitable answer (of course) is there is none, and I then take myself out for a nice, tasty lunch. Where's the crime in that? :-)
Not guilty. And, if my main co-pilot's "liverishness" wears off later, there's an afternoon tea in prospect somewhere, too. Fingers crossed. It's 13:44 and there are some hefty clouds scudding around up there blocking off my nice sunshine from time to time.
Sigh
Mr Postie has just delivered stuff for #20 to me, which probably means my stuff has in turn been delivered to #18 — the problem being that #18 is now empty except when he pops back briefly to make sure it hasn't burned down. Grrr. Mr Postie would do better if he didn't walk around on autopilot in an iPod trance.
Sigh (2)
I'd much prefer to watch BBC4 in hi-def, but BBC1 goes hi-def on Freesat in a fortnight. "Programmes that aren't yet made in HD will be upscaled"... (Source.)
Oops
One has to wonder just how much more technologically sophisticated a £1,000,000,000 brand new nuclear submarine has to become to be able to avoid running aground on a bed of silt. During its sea trials.
It's now 22:57 but I'm drooping more than somewhat after my unusually early start to the day, so I'm calling it a night, as it were. G'night.