2011 — 14 June: Tuesday
For a change I've been listening to the BBC Radio 4 news this morning. The trouble is nothing seems to change as a revolving cast of spokespeople trot out their fixed opinions on what seems to be a static set of problems. I shall be reverting to music very soon.
Meanwhile, a photo from the winter of 1981 in Old Windsor with Christa looking pleased at the preparations she's made to keep Peter "snug as a bug in a rug" for a stroll (in all probability down to Bowsher's newsagent1 by the "Little Chef" across the road from the Bells of Ouseley pub mentioned in "Three Men in a Boat"):
Since it's apparently going to be fine, dry, and becoming warm I sense a minor-league expotition of some sort today. But not before breakfast.
I should know better, but I've been dipping into one of my books of jokes (again). Here's #212:
Said McCarthy to O'Brien, "Did you hear about poor Houlihan?"
"No," said O'Brien, "What about poor Houlihan?"
"The poor man fell into a vat of beer and drowned."
"Saints preserve us," said O'Brien, shocked. "The poor fellow never had a chance."
"Yes, he did," said McCarthy. "He got out three times to go to the men's room."
The Great Escape
I had no idea the half onion I'd kept was so desperate to escape my clutches that it would grow legs and become a Triffid:
It's enough to make a grown man cry.
Life can't be all...
... roses without the occasional thorn rearing its ugly whatever. So, a morning's gentle self-indulgence (score: eight pairs of socks from M&S, a can of 'Airduster', a "2 for £20" pair of Blu-rays, and the latest issue of Word magazine) now has to be paid for by a trip over to the care-home. Dear Mama also received a statement of one of her 'stocks and shares' ISAs that suggests some form of mild recovery is taking place. It's actually an amount that would cover the cost of a Dignitas-assisted departure, which strikes me as mildly ironic.