2011 — 9 March: Wednesday

Somewhat to my surprise1 the film version of the original TV series "Edge of Darkness" worked, and was executed, very well. OK, it's not as good as the 1985 original (but then, very little is). It's now a bit late to start "Sicko" — it will keep. I'm going to get me a bit of sleep. G'night.

Now that I realise...

... it's three days later than I thought(!) there's just barely time to wish my friend Gill a "happy bidet" by email (done, minutes ago) as the snail variety wouldn't get up to Hurstbourne Priors in time this morning, what with it being 05:39 and all). It's bein' so well-organised as keeps me goin' these days.

Still, the birds are twittering away already out in the mostly dark garden and the cuppa has done wonders for the nasty stuff in my throat that was making breathing so interesting. Splutter. Yuk. Put kettle back on, Mrs Landingham, I'm going to need reinforcements. Breakfast cereal plums are freshly stewed and the latest crop of security patches installed, too. This early morning lark is quite productive.

Remember Chernobyl?

There's a nice article on the aftermath nearly 25 years on. Source and snippet:

It's weirdly distressing to be here. As a human, it's like staring down the barrel of our likely fate. We may wipe ourselves out with a nuclear holocaust, or with carbon and methane, or some other way we can't yet conceive of. Or nature may do it for us. When it happens, trees may or may not mind. Cyanobacteria poisoned their own atmosphere two and a half billion years ago by releasing vast quantities of a gas that was poisonous to them — oxygen — and in the process created an atmosphere suited to higher forms of land life. Who knows what creatures may adapt to a high-carbon, high-methane atmosphere if we keep going the way we are? They may include us, or not.

Henry Shukman in Outside Online


It reminded me very much of Sterling Lanier's 1973 novel Hiero's Journey. Not to mention Larry Niven's sting-in-the-tail 1980 short The green marauder. [Pause] Time marches on; it's 09:10 and the sun is shining.

Now it's 11:11 and another small batch of this'n'that is safely gathered in ahead of what look like massing storm clouds. I may yet dash out again.

Since Mr Postie...

... was kind enough to drop off a pair of billets-doux from unwicked Uncle ERNIE, and since the rain had still not begun, I nipped out again after lunch to the bank and then went for a quick mooch around the not very exciting shelves of Asda. I'd forgotten to check with ERNIE earlier — having just done so, I can see there's actually a third win on the way, too. Cool!

Less cool is my mild fever. I've eased off what I was doing, and even popped an aspirin. I don't much like sore throats. I've also just re-read Paul Graham's excellent essay "Why nerds are unpopular" — I re-visit it occasionally as it's a very good piece of writing. It's now 18:20 and I think I could do with some food.

  

Footnote

1  It happens occasionally.