2012 — 14 November: Wednesday
Alas, alack!1 Not only did I fail to mark the presence of two feetnote/footnotes on yesterday's random jotting (a lapse cunningly repaired just seconds ago) but I never located the round tuit needed to get 'up, close and personal' with the film I mentioned. (Breaks off there to read about the "Amazon Glacier" storage service. My own wetware-based memory sounds remarkably similar: in my case, it's also optimised for data that is infrequently accessed but for which retrieval times of several years are suitable.)
Erm, where was I? Oh, yes. I opted instead for one of the two books I picked up from Jonathan's about-to-close bookshop opposite the opticians after I'd retrieved my 'repaired' reading glasses yesterday afternoon.
I "punished" the Gray and chose the "Torday" simply because — before scanning the two covers — I'd had to seek out a piece of clear film to protect the scanner glass from the label residue still lurking after I'd peeled off the £2 off sticker from "Coda". Last time I ignored such residue I ended up having to buy a new scanner as I was unsuccessful in removing the smudges from the glass afterwards.
Better grab some breakfast before my next supplies sortie. It's not actually raining... yet. Indeed, the sun has turned up in time to greet the green bin men. (The bins are green, not the men.)
Un'manned by a woman's tears
It's enough to make you weep. The link that took me to the link wherein I found this:
... reassuringly explained that "The real tears employed in the study were fresh, emotional tears, taken from female study participants who cried during viewings of sad movies". I know the feeling :-)
Elsewhere I learned that:
Some fictional names are filled with semantic clues about the nature of their owners: you know that someone called Gradgrind will not be an advocate of child-centred learning, and that Luke Skywalker will not stay long on Tatooine. A character called Henleigh Mallinger Grandcourt is likely to be able to offer a girl a big house, though "Mallinger" suggests it will come at a price.
Don't they always? (Read the whole piece to discover anagrams winkled out of the Bard.)
A picture is...
... supposed to be worth 1,000 words. The chart here shows a bunch of senior BBC managers. The nine most senior of these pick up, between them, nearly £3,000,000 per year. I believe the phrase is "nice work, if you can get it". Ironic to see that the relative pauper among them is the hapless chap in charge of Editorial Policy and Standards.
Right. Nearly time I wasn't here if I'm to be there on time. TTFN.