2011 — 13 October: Thursday
The penultimate track played on last night's "Late Junction" by Verity Sharp from Keith Jarrett's clavichord album "Book of Ways"1 was something I hadn't heard in too long, and sent me scurrying off up the Amazon in search of the lost (clavi)chord (as it were). I snaffled what they claimed was their last copy and, in my haste, totally forgot to click on "free shipping". Oops. Of course, checking the order this morning shows me they have restocked overnight — quite possibly I was not the only acquisitive late-night listener.
The sun is trying to do its 'sunny side up' job, but there are some substantial fluffy things getting in the way. It's 09:03 and I seem to be running out of time to make Junior's room fully habitable for tomorrow's birthday visit.
My occasionally rocky...
... and largely auto-didactic road to culinary godhood in the last four years has yet to take me through Quincetown. In the cold light of day, I thus find myself looking at yesterday's fruit a bit suspiciously, though I must admit the tough-looking skin has a delicious smell. All I know is that I must peel and core the thing. How hard can that be?
The only mention...
... I can recall in Chris Patten's 2005 book "Not quite the diplomat" of the BBC was an aside that Thatcher "hated it". No surprises there, then. The current issue of "Private Eye" has this to add:
Neat.
Back, after a lunch...
... followed by a visit with Len, to trip over a small pile of postal video goodness:
Having noted (here) the then unavailability of the excellent film "White Mischief" on DVD, and later burned my own copy, I eventually gave in and ordered a Dutch DVD. Even though it was only 4:3 aspect ratio. Finally, you can get, and I have just got, an official UK release in 16:9 widescreen. As for "Being Human", I hadn't even finished watching the first two seasons before Junior snaffled them, so I can't really start season #3 yet, can I. But perhaps I can use it as a bargaining ploy to get the other DVDs back from him.
I also have my new certificate of car insurance. In just two days short of four years driving I now have a "protected 8-year no-claims discount". I know Time flies, but this is ridiculous.
My quince is cooling down after a brutal knife attack followed by a concentrated burst of radio-frequency waves (or were they particles?). I added tiny amounts of sugar and lemon juice, then mashed the hot result, and suspect it will go nicely with some vanilla icecream later this evening. Somehow, it's become 17:37 already.