2012 — 29 March: Thursday
Today1 we have not 'naming of parts' but rather 'making of crockpot'. Probably preceded by 'getting of supplies'. And followed by 'meeting for lunch'. So far, it looks a nice day for it.
Reasons to be cheerful... part #n?
Hard though it is to imagine the content of a "key conversation" in March 2003 between the lovely Tony Bliar and the doubtless equally-fragrant Shrub, it's certainly easy to picture the anguish within the Foreign Office as they try to keep a lid on it nearly a decade later. I do enjoy a good sunshine test. (Link.)
I never (that's never) buy anything from someone who randomly cold-calls me or, as happened moments ago, knocks on my door apparently wanting to offer me 'Jesus'. But I am becoming slightly more polite in my dismissal technique. Christa would be pleased. (She used to race me to the door sometimes as she hated the way I treated these unwelcome visits.)
Supplies obtained. Breakfast ingested. Time (10:35) to start slicing and dicing. [Pause] If the weather stays like this, I shall have to revise my evening meals as hot casserole type things, no matter how easy and convenient, aren't going to remain top of my menu choices. Still, I've always eaten less when the weather is warm. Now it's nearly time to hit the road in search of my lunch companion. Must remember to try not to run over any members of the God Squad.
Disaster!
Sadly, the "Wheatsheaf" is (at least temporarily) closed as its sister business has gone under, dragging it down. So, what to do? Simple. Drive over to the "Three Tuns" on the edge of Romsey and be mightily impressed. (It has links to the "Chesil" in Winklechestershire, but is rather lower-priced, which suits this impoverished ex-IBM pensioner just fine.) From there, a short hop to a crowded Carlo's for yet another delicious vanilla cone, and back for a natter and to inspect the ever-growing 'boys' (Len's pair of Siberian cats). It's a good job they like me, as they're getting really quite large.
Also found these quite tasty. And Word magazine's weekly email suggests:
Buy a parrot. Teach the parrot to say, "Help! I've been turned into a parrot."
More here.
I am old enough...
... and cynical enough to find little remaining in the world that can genuinely shock me. This did:
Government inspectors were aware that minors were being castrated while being looked after in Catholic-run psychiatric institutions, local paper the Limburger reported on Monday.
The NRC reported on Saturday at least one boy under the age of 16 was castrated to 'help' his homosexual feelings while in Catholic church care in the 1950s.
Minutes of meetings held in the 1950s show inspectors were present when the castrations were openly discussed, the Limburger said. The minutes also showed directors of the
institutions did not think parents needed to be involved in the decision-making process when minors were involved.
My last manager in ICL in 1980 was a talented and enthusiastic exponent of tmesis. In his words: "Un-f*****g-believable".
It's only belatedly...
... occurred to me that this book — being one of only 400 copies printed — may just actually be the rarest item in my little library:
I was using it earlier after the 'shock' of discovering that "David Grinnell" was but one of several pseudonyms of Donald A Wollheim — if you have to ask, I'm certainly not going to tell you :-)
