2010 — 4 November: Thursday
A depressed overnight email from my friend Carol in New York.1 Can you imagine California being about the only state to recognise reality?
Tea and breakfast, Mrs Landingham. Quickly! I have a busy day ahead and it's already 08:21. There's some new technology to be inspected — where better than at "Nova Tech"?2 And an evening meal at a gathering of the (four) birthday chums. First task, however, is the more mundane business of some further supplies. A chap hasta eat. Hasta la vista.
Supplies gathered. I balked at the nectarines when I realised they are nearly 85p each. Mercy me! Tea will do, instead... This shopping for food for one lark can be extremely uneconomic. Perhaps I'd better find myself another lark?
Larkin about
Having listened to another chunk of the rather morose but beautifully written "Letters to Monica" ...
Honestly I don't think I did anything I wanted ALL DAY except go to the lavatory... Mother's electric blanket broke, & I have 'mended' it, so she may be practising suttee involuntarily before long.
... I fancied a more international flavour. "Working non-stop to re-invigorate Middle East Peace talks". Now where, and when, could I possibly have heard that before, I wonder? Too wearisome for words when none of the parties actually seems to have any great interest in any viewpoints than his/her own. Impossible situation. That's enough NPR. I shall have to twitch the dial further along and try Planet Rock even though it involves switching off the higher cerebral functions :-)
Now, how about that tea?
The cyclic nature...
... of my universe: I mentioned (here) that I'd just (re-)ripped one of my nicest CDs to mp3. Mere minutes ago I re-scanned the artwork for my "permanent" collection, and I'm currently (11:30) listening to the CD, too. I have no idea, and even less interest, what dear Mama did with the original vinyl album that I'd given to Dad 38 years ago. Fine, fine music.
Time to go postal?
Dear Mama's obliging ex-neighbour up in the Midlands has kindly sent along yet another accumulation of snailmail (necessitating yet another swift trip to the local postal depot to pay the underpaid postage and the £1 "collection fee"). At least I now know, therefore, that the Office of the Public Grauniad (or whatever) has managed to send her one of the two notification letters regarding her handover of decision-making to me and Big Bro. Not that this would now mean anything to her. She's also had more luck (yet more luck, I should say) with ERNIE.
Big Bro, in turn, has also received his two notifications, each omitting a crucial line of data from his address downunder in NZ's "Rural Delivery" hinterland. But since it was he or his #3 daughter who supplied that information, and since he got his delivery, I remain calmly unaffected by this intelligence despite Sis-in-law's assertion that he knows his own address. Personally, I don't even know my own collar size but, heh, I'm not my sibling's keeper.
Time to go eat?
Yep. Back later... [Pause] And so, after a meal and a showing of "Silk" (visually lush, but otherwise rather empty, alas) to bed just this side of midnight. It's quite windy out there, but still very mild. G'night.