2011 — 12 March: Saturday
As usual1 the remnants of my "cold in da dose" are far worse first thing in the morning, and being upright and moving around helps. Hence, I was already sitting at BlackBeast when a chum emailed me this morning a few minutes ago to answer my actually-not-rhetorical question a couple of days ago about the frightfully nice Fred the Shred. According to the "Independent" he'd obtained a Super Injunction banning the media from identifying him as a banker (wonder why?) but (sadly) it was blasted away by a question asked on the floor of the House of Commons where the damnable thing cannot be applied — something about Free Speech, or some such tosh. (Link.)
I suppose it's nice to know that money can't always buy everything. (But even I could have told him that.)
Howling
It's now 06:34 and I've just once again proved that my subconscious is a lot smarter than I am. Having watched "Howl" last night, Mike kindly offered to lend it to me as he thought I'd enjoy it every bit as much as he had. I probably would, I thought to myself, but I'd like to reread the poem first. Could I find my copy? Don't be ridiculous! Ten minutes of shelf-scouring proved fruitless. I knew it was a physically small book and, of course, these tend to get tucked away more or less wherever is convenient.
Almost as soon as I'd unglued my eyelids this morning I realised I knew exactly where it was. And that's exactly where I found it. Crammed between Martin Gilbert's "Finest Hour" and Janet Gleeson's "The Arcanum". Where else could it possibly have been? :-)
I need another cuppa, and a change of radio station.
I enjoy and admire...
... good writing, wherever I happen to find it. Even in the middle of an article about the art of the police report. Source and snippet:
The perpetrator in a crime report is always the "Suspect", even when 15 witnesses, half of them preachers, see him exit his car and shoot his cousin at point-blank range in a church parking lot. Until a jury reviews the evidence and pronounces, under the law, no crime took place. The police narrator is careful not to imply that he thinks otherwise.
Trust in me, just in me
Hard though it is to believe, "surprise has been expressed at the peer's relative lack of knowledge of the BBC's output".
Must be an ideal candidate to become chairman of the BBC Trust, mustn't he? I hope he knows enough to leave 6Music alone.
It's 10:02 and I'm just back from Soton, clutching my latest copy of Word magazine. I thought I'd nip in and out ahead of the shoppers and any rotten weather. Now it's time to start stuffing my next crockpot.
It seems David Lodge has a new novel out featuring HG Wells. Should be good. (Link.)
Where's all that...
... nice sunshine gone? It's 15:49 and completely greyed-out skies. [Pause] Well, the throat remains quite sore and the fever, though mild, remains above "normal", so I intend to confine myself to barracks tomorrow. It's 20:58, feels quite cold out there, and has been quite a long day, somehow. Still, my latest crockpot creation was very tasty, and the rest is now chilling out in the fridge.