2010 — 6 December: Monday
My closing comment1 last night seems equally applicable this morning. It's 08:18 and pale grey. I've been trying Alice Cooper on PlanetRock as my pre-breakfast treat, though he's obviously pre-recorded. As for my observation about using all seven digital audio inputs on my pre-amp, he's coming in (as it were) courtesy of a tiny optical to digital co-ax converter. My old complaint still applies, it seems, in my post-analogue world.
As I sup my tea, my cares fade away... He's just asked: "How about a song about gonorrhea? 'Burning for you'." Try getting away with that on the BBC before the watershed :-)
I found this both amusing and rather sad — both the article and the comments it's attracted.
It's a kind of magic
I knew dear Mama was unwise to throw out some of my books... not that my original Narnia hardbacks were signed. (Source.)
Mildly-related trivium: Colin Wilson (in January 1966) had his hair cut in New Hampshire by a professor's wife who had considered Joy Davidman her closest friend. She told Wilson of Davidman's stated intention (back in 1952) to go to England and marry CS Lewis — exactly what she did, of course.
I'm listening to Yves Smith on Harry Shearer's "Le Show". She is excoriating bankers and talking all about the "mortgage mess" and foreclosures. Amazing stuff.
Head in the clouds
Now that they've banished Wikileaks, and therefore have spare capacity (?), Amazon have just offered me a reliable, cloud-based DNS service. I'm more interested in getting sound to work on BlackBeast. I may yet have to resort to my "hdmi in / DVI-D and digital audio out" box and use the one digital audio input on my minidisc recorder that is as yet unconnected. Of course, that assumes I'll ever be able to find said little box (though I think I know which room it's in). It's 10:35 and I should try to refresh my little vegetables cupboard first, I suppose.
And so it came to pass...
... that not only do I now have all the veggie bits'n'pieces for my next culinary masterwork, but I also have tucked away (in a sock under the bed) the makings of dear Mama's £50 float for the care-home. Straight from her own bank, too. It's still -3C out there but the roads are almost entirely clear of ice. Time (11:58) for the (next) cup that cheers.
Right. Lunch lunched, it's time to whizz over and say "Hi, remember me? It's your son!" to dear Mama. Off we jolly...
Pause
She's fine physically, though remains as mentally out of things as ever. At least she still (more or less) knows who I am (most of the time). She says she "wants to go home" but then adds that she can't, can she? She's got that right.
Stalling between two fools
The Mysterious Case of the Ongoing Non-Collection of my Bulging Bag of Broken Bookcase Bits finally has a partial explanation. I returned from the care home to find yet another invoice requesting payment for damaged goods. When I rang (again) to complain mildly (again) at being invoiced (again) for the delivery of damaged goods (after paying in full on Day One, of course) my latest best buddy Emma in the customer services bit admitted that between their initial delivery and the two or three failed attempts to collect the broken bits from me they had changed contract to use a different delivery service. Quite why that constitutes a good explanation puzzles me, but it seemed to satisfy her. Still, subject to our climate, I now have to stay in next Tuesday (all day) for yet another attempt to pick up the pieces. And (again) the demand for money has been cancelled.
Musical notes
Mr Postie also left a more interesting package from Amazon that I have yet to attend do. It's now 19:15 and my early evening visitor has been sent on his way after a cuppa (of course) and an enjoyable chat about various musicians and some selections played. We both have large, but interestingly not entirely overlapping, music collections. He also tends to get to hear people "live" whereas I've always preferred the studio recordings approach. I suspect he's now dreadfully late for his supper, but then I've given no thought to mine yet. Next task, in fact. Sorted. Thank goodness for my microwave oven!
I noticed it's a nasty -4C out there a few minutes ago. Yuk.
Right. What'cha'got for me there, Mr Postie?
Anything by Lasse Hallström tends to be well worth watching — just think of "Hachi: a dog's tale" (tail?!), "Chocolat", "My life as a dog", "Unfinished Life", "Gilbert Grape". Mike had already lent me "Dear John", so it's a known quantity (as it were). Besides, it's got Amanda Seyfried in it. And Christa and I both enjoyed Julio Medem's "Sex and Lucia", and "Lovers of the Arctic Circle". Here's hoping, therefore.
Nicky Horne: Did you know Bono has love bites all over his body? And every one is self-inflicted :-)
I shall nick a leaf out of dear Mama's book and retire early tonight. I'm curiously tired; it's surprisingly hard work visiting her and trying to chat with her in her present state. Ho-hum.