2013 — 21 August: Wednesday
Having woken up1 in time to wheel out the 'green' bin and greet a delicious little cat by the garden gate, it occurs to me that the parlous state of Mother Hubbard's cupboard should be fixed before much else happens today...
I have a tendency to forget these things. (Dear mama, of course, was always quick to remind me that "You'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on" — such a delightfully elegant, erm, wit, she had back when she still had a functioning set of synapses, even though their output seemed only to be best displayed in regard to my various faults and shortcomings. Strange female.)
In fact, I also vaguely seem to recall a discussion on our walk only yesterday on the oddity that is my memory. Now, what was it? :-)
Aside to Christa
This is the second year running that I've just retrieved a shrink-wrapped phone directory from the front doorstep only to find the previous one — still shrink-wrapped — in "its place" on top of one of the freezers. (The spare one, as it happens; a single occupant [this one, at least] has little need of a second freezer these days.)
I noticed that Waitrose is once again stocking their ever-so-convenient packs of veggies suitable for crockpottery purposes. Is it that time again already? Crikey.
I'm willing to bet...
... that, with my twisted sense of ironic humour (honed, as it has been by close study of the works of the divine Jane Austen) I find this story...
... a great deal more amusing than the boy Dave will should he ever return from his holidays to resume "running" the country. I fear our shadowy Whitehall masters have no-one to blame but themselves, which makes it all the richer. Come back, HL Mencken, we need you for our defence against that "endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary" that you identified as being the whole aim of practical politics to create.
Much else (see above)...
... now having happened, I'm back at Technology Towers in time to catch (and ignore) the early evening news. I have a date with a heavy-duty dose of Bill the Bard. I no more "get" Shakespeare than I do Wagner, but I hope it's never quite too late to learn. We (or I, at least) shall see. Now, about that next cuppa...
Having just performed my second-ever smartphone s/w update I've also discovered that the best reception in the house (currently) is right at the top of the stairs. There, I get four bars. Down here, I get the insulting "No Service". And 34 Apps have updated themselves. I find myself wondering what they all do.