2011 — 4 April: Monday
Terry Pratchett (in his book "Mort") gave us the idea of Death needing a holiday — as, indeed, did Piers Anthony (in a fashion) in the first of his "Incarnations of Mortality" titles "On a pale horse".1 Neil Gaiman gave us an attractive Goth female as Death — she, too, would take an occasional week off to reconnect with Life. I guess, with life being over in such a short time, we prefer to imagine something that outlasts us all.
Well, last night's video2 entertainment, clocking in at just about three hours, nearly outlasted me. It was Martin Brest's excellent film "Meet Joe Black" which I remember watching just once before, with Christa, when I first bought it on DVD. It's safe to say my attitude towards it this second time around was much more positive. (It also seems that Mr Brest's career was fatally derailed after "Gigli" as he doesn't seem to have produced, written, or directed anything since that poorly-received title.)
Meanwhile, this morning, the sun is shining. Why it couldn't do that yesterday is another of Life's little mysteries. It's 08:19 and the living room (I've changed theme, honestly!) currently looks rather like a war zone. So, a wake-me-up cuppa, some breakfast, a few chores, and I shall start repair work.
Krumpet, again?
Some time back, I bought and watched (and very much enjoyed) the 2003 Oscar-winning short claymation film "Harvie Krumpet". So I've just ordered a very promising-looking new title ("Mary and Max") by the same chap. Watch this space.
How to become...
... a philosopher? Source and snippet:
If Grayling does have one fundamentalist article of faith, it is that all of us are capable of understanding philosophy. He grew up in a colonial family in what is now Zambia, where the grownups' chief preoccupation was adultery, leaving him free to bury himself in books. He first read Plato at 12, and says enthusiastically, "Anybody could read Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics in the bath, it's great stuff!" — although I suspect his idea of an easy read may not be the same as yours or mine.
Well, some of my reading at 12 was (I suppose) not exactly mainstream, but I know it didn't include Plato. Most of it was very other-worldly (in the SF sense).
There's a first time for everything. Today's first was preparing my next batch of crockpot stuff while listening to Dave Gilmour as the castaway on Desert Island Discs. (The DID Archive is here, and has now got to 2,848 episodes!) What's next, Mrs Landingham? Tea? Yes, why not!
I find...
... a wandering chap can sometimes tell where he is by pinpointing where he isn't. Yesterday, I wasn't here, but rather here:
And by the time I've caught up with the DID archive I will, no doubt, have been everywhere.
Speaking of catching up...
... it's 15:22, and I've finally been able to kick off the Post Office mail redirecting for dear Mama. I figure over the course of the next 12 months anyone who normally sends her stuff will do so, and I shall be able to catch them, one by one, and get them to update their records. What a long business this has been since the end of last July. Mind you, the fact that I stopped all her direct debits may provoke speedier responses in some cases :-)
I'm now nipping over to Winklechestershire to blag a much-needed cuppa. [Pause] I picked up a rare shot — me, smiling. But first, a nice study in red and green (as not-quite-promised yesterday). Click the pic for a bigger image:
And, by way of contrast:
Sur le pont, d'Arle...
"Smile!"
It's 18:04; let's see what's in the crockpot. [Pause] Yum; very tasty.
I thought I'd take...
... the BBC's new RadioPlayer out for an audio spin. And see a) what the quality's like, and b) what sort of bandwidth it burns up. The answers are a) fine, and b) apparently less than 1% of my network, most of the time. (Click the pic.)
Not that I actually have enough time to listen to all the music I like, let alone to watch all the videos I want to see, and/or read all the books I want to read, or even write all the stuff (and nonsense) I want to write, while getting a modicum of "out and about in the fresh air" time in any given period of 24 hours, some six or so of which are invariably spent asleep (as far as I can tell) in any case!
46p just to send one standard first-class snail mail? Has the world gone barking mad???
Aside to Christa
I've invented a new colour. Don't know the name, but the process is dead easy: wash white cotton polo and T-shirts with the dark olive-green walking jacket in the washing machine at the same time. It's a doddle. Any fool can do it.