2010 — 29 December: Wednesday
As John Wyndham put it, so brilliantly, in the opening sentence of his 1951 novel:1
Lots of fog, in other words, and almost zero Triffid traffic noise. Meanwhile, overnight emails from Big Bro in NZ have revealed extraordinary visual evidence of Third World levels of poverty in the footwear and razor departments:
Compare and contrast with this poor family's situation just over three years ago!
Time to stuff...
... my next crockpot. It's already 10:32 after all. Perhaps I should send them a portion?
Next?
Well, as the crockpot simmers peaceably on its "stun" setting, here's a fine example of exactly my preferred type!
It's what the web is for :-)
Then, just 30 minutes later, I'm reading Sandy Balfour's column for 21 January 2005 (in his 2006 collection of X-Philes stuff from the Grauniad) and, blow me down, there's that clue: "This type shoots back (5)" Is that serendipity or (perhaps) merely serifity? I think it's time for another cuppa, Mrs Landingham. In fact, I'd better make a spot of lunch. I'm feeling peckish and it's 13:22 already.
It's still a bit foggy, but (apart from the BBC 6Music background) quite quiet as the boiler doesn't have so much work to do now that it's risen to a tropical +7.5C out there.
I was blissfully unaware, until...
... taking my web browser out for a cyberspatial spin, that "Hollywood" has remade a favourite Francis Veber film that I bought in Calais...
... and I note they have chickened out of an accurate translation of the title.
I've long been intrigued by the problems posed by translation, having watched Christa grappling with them many, many times in the course of her patents checking work. Cervantes said (presumably in his native Spanish!) "Translation from one language to another is like viewing a piece of tapestry on the wrong side where though the figures are distinguishable yet there are so many ends and threads that the beauty and exactness of the work is obscured". And I once typeset this Russian proverb for Christa's study wall:
R.I.P. Denis Dutton
This is sad news. Here's a New Yorker piece on him. "Arts&Letters" has been a very reliable site.
(Atomic?) blast from the past
Just a month before I retired (back in that distant era when my heart — to [almost] nick a book title from Cornelia Otis Skinner, in fact — was young and gay) I bought an nth hand copy2 of Kingsley Martin's 1960 "Critic's London Diary". It contains about 80,000 words worth of jottings from his New Statesman column between 1931 and the mid 1950s. I've not (yet) read the whole thing, but it's great for casual browsing. For example, on 18th September 1954 (the week of a Soviet nuclear weapon test, I gather) he reported a conversation overheard in his office:
"That sounds all right for Page One. Of course, if the world comes to an end tomorrow, we can always change it."
"Would it be necessary to make a comment in that case?"
"Oh, yes. We should say that though, in principle, we welcomed the event, we couldn't wholly approve of the means employed."
I'm irresistibly reminded of yet another fine drawing by my underground comix hero Ron Cobb:
Just for a change, I'm going to dip a cautious toe back into broadcast TV tonight. An extended length edition of "QI" starts in about 15 minutes so I shall give it a try. My crockpot residue is chilled and decanted into the fridge. The dishes are done. I've had a nice, hot bath. And the only incoming emails just now all seem to be wittering on about Acorn font issues that need no longer trouble me.