2013 — 19 July: Friday
Bliss!1 I've just enjoyed some more of the recently-thawed ancient fruit as it's had no ill-effects so far. On top of which (as it were) I've already chanted the Magic Spell that downloads last night's eminently repeatable "Late Junction" radio. It included a pleasant 24-minute African jazz piece I shall enjoy hearing again.
In some danger...
... of bursting my own bliss bubble by reading of Mary-Louise Parker's wanting to quit acting, and of Clancy Martin's wish to get us talking more about suicide, I thought I'd turn to algorithmic thoughts of unhappy truckers:
No wonder parcels take ages to turn up. [Pause] 25.9C and climbing, by the way, at 10:09.
Is it time...
... to increase my monthly download cap, I wonder? Where's the snag? Not the "potent curatorial cocktail", surely? More likely it will only work on US-based domains. [Pause] Not so. One of my technological ice-breakers has just phoned me to confirm it works here in the UK. Thanks for the tip, Brian.
26.7C <Sigh> Or should that be <Pant>? I hope the lunch venue has air-conditioning.
Long pause
It didn't have, but was tolerably well-aired. We've decided we may try a Chinese place next — today's was somewhat more Anatolian. After our usual wide-ranging chat about this, that, and the other (accompanied by a chocolate éclair from the latest Patisserie to open for trade in Hiltingbury) I got back home not quite in time for the start of the evening radio news, but thought it best first to 'water' the thermometer on the porch. In direct sunshine it was reading 44C and I didn't want it to blow the top of its little head off. I long ago wrapped some absorbent paper around the bulb, and can reduce its thermal agitation by at least 10C within a matter of seconds. Would that I could pull the same trick on me.
Still, a quick shower helps.
There's an amusing...
... "Kiwi segment" I spotted in the current issue of "Private Eye" while my evening meal — a delicious chicken saag masala — was cooling towards edibility:
Sir,
Re your airport Chicken Desk cartoon (p. 15, eye 1343). A friend returned from a holiday in New Zealand and reported that at the airport she was puzzled by announcements calling passengers to "The Mystic Chicken", before she realised that this is NZ for "domestic check-in".
CHRIS PADLEY
The accent is accurately captured, I think, if my four nieces are any indication.
Having picked up...
... and put back, this little gem a number of times, I finally took the plunge (having with me the various loyalty cards and what-not that Waterstone's has loaded me with):
The pleasure was tempered, however, on learning that my young friend, and assistant manager, whom I first met when he worked for Tony Martin in Southampton's Bargate bookshop over 20 years ago, has been made redundant (Waterstone's has no further need, it seems, for assistant managers).