2013 — 13 February: Wednesday

It's a good job I'm up early1 as I'd forgotten to wheel out my 'black' bin last night.

My passengers are due here in two hours for my taxi-to-hospital duties. Should give me time to grab a bite and stow a few more bytes. And find a few coins for the car park. Mike tells me it's one of those pay in advance places so, if I can, I shall try to pause in a "loading and unloading" bay (if such a thing exists) and decant the duo there. It's fair to say I hate hospitals.

It's now 10:25 and...

... I would have been back sooner had I (a) not turned the wrong (unsignposted) way and been trapped for a few minutes in the queue to a car park I no longer needed, having done the duo-decanting, and (b) having eventually managed a multiple-point turn and made my escape not ended up behind a Nervous Nora in a Citroen C1, who maintained a steady 29mph in a 40 limit, and then cautiously inched up to nearly 31mph in the following derestricted section.

My job now is to sit tight here, awaiting the "Can you come and get us?" call in whatever good time the NHS takes. And shovel some more bytes over to the NAS. And treat myself to another cuppa. It's about +2C out there, and dry. Thank you, Universe.

No comment

But thanks for the link!

The virtuous Victorian twin sisters who acquired a unique archive of medieval Jewish documents from Cairo could never have known the true nature of one tattered parchment: it is a magic spell to persuade a woman (sic) have sex with a man — his part is to recite it while running around her room naked with his trousers on his head, while she sleeps.
"Frankly by the time you're running around her room with your trousers on your head you're two-thirds of the way there," curator Ben Outhwaite, who can read the text, observed.

EduData UK

Those Victorians. And, if they spoke 12 languages, perhaps they did indeed understand the spell? [Pause] And here I am again, taxi-duties done for the day, just in neat time for my next cuppa. It's a grey day out there as noon now sneaks up on me.

Thanks, Mr Postie

It's been quite a while (six years?!) since my last batch of escapist cowboy nonsense, picked up in the good ol' days of Fopp, Virgin, and HMV down in Soton. About time for my next batch, therefore:


"Pass the bullets, Mabel." [Pause] The Universe has now (14:59) turned the rain back on though, if it was just 1C cooler, I reckon it would be falling as snow. Brrr. [Pause] I've just pounced on a hardback copy of Simon Garfield's book about maps as I reckon it's dipped to the cheapest I'm likely to pay for it. Meanwhile, I've now finished refreshing all the MP3 files on my NAS, with a total of 45,681 give-or-take. I also know two files have faults that will require me to excavate the original CDs for re-ripping. That can definitely wait for a year or so.

Right. It's been a long day. G'night.



1  Well, early-ish :-)