2012 — 7 January: Saturday
The clock is ticking1 in a countdown for a local walk to re-acquaint ourselves with the mid-winter appearance of the Sumach tree. Before that, a chap needs a bite of breakfast and at least an initial cuppa.
Strange dream...
... is the only way to describe the one I had inside the head of an author who was (on daytime consideration) a composite of Arthur Ransome and CS Lewis. This 'chimera' was pondering a typesetting and printing issue at the foot of one of his pages. Quite amusing, but best dispelled by some fresh air...
Return of...
... the 'boids'. As I mentioned, in 1982 I bought Christa a huge, one-volume reproduction copy of Audubon's water-colour paintings for his monumental "The Birds of America". Now another of the original edition of 120 copies is to be auctioned. (Source.)
Some six miles later I can confirm that Mr Sumach, though bereft of leaves, is still going strong...
Rather muddy, our route today. But it was mild whenever we were out of the breeze. It's now very definitely time for a cuppa and a mouthful or two of lunch. 13:52, indeed.
I know it's Saturday, so why doesn't it feel like Saturday? A lingering ripple from the recent festive spasm, perhaps? While adding the photo above I'm listening, again, to the Kermode discussion of the 'Thatcher' movie. Not one I shall be watching.
Mr Postie...
... brought me the first credit card bill of the new year (joy) and some bumph about member-elected directors of my pension fund. A fee of £6,000 per year doesn't strike me as even nearly adequate compensation for the dubious privileges associated with wrangling about such matters for 50 hours per year in meetings plus (doubtless) endless extra prep time. Nope. I prefer being retired.
Besides, I'm not even sure I know five retired ex-colleagues who'd be prepared to nominate me. I certainly wouldn't be prepared to nominate me :-)