2014 — 2 January: Thursday
Life was just a little difficult1 until I realised the extent of the changes in the interface of my preferred tool (WinSCP) for logging in to, and working with, files on my web servers. Each session now has its own tab (fine once you realise) and the link to my preferred editor needed updating (and is now opened in a subtly different way). But change is good and helps keep my mind alert (or something). As does fresh food, so that's on my next priority task list (were I ever to create one) for the morning.
Which, so far, appears to be dry.
Big Bro...
... asked me for a higher-quality scan of the ancient photo of the three Mounces that he (I assume, belatedly) spotted linked from yesterday's entry. I've rescanned it and had another gentle tinker with it but, starting as I did from a tiny Box Brownie Ilford print, any enhancement options at this point have pretty much blown away in the sands of Time.
He thought it dated from 1958, but Logic suggests that would have meant my parents had bought me a school uniform two years before I'd passed the entrance exam. And it would also have to have been shot in the back garden of our then-unbuilt house. Now I know the world of grown-ups is both mysterious and illogical, but I doubt that degree of temporal upheaval (not to mention expenditure). Though it does bring to mind the horrific solipsistic twist at the end of Heinlein's scary little story "They", (which you can find in "The unpleasant profession of Jonathan Hoag").
Which I had not then read. Come on! Where was I going to find four shillings from when my weekly pocket money was probably about six pence? :-)
That fabulous cover illustration (of my 1966 Penguin edition of the original 1959 collection) is by Alan "Kaleidoscope Eyes" Aldridge, by the way. Just thought I'd throw that in.
Glad to see...
... there's been no drop in quality of the pies available for lunch at the "Wheatsheaf" in the new year! But there are once again thick rather rain-filled looking clouds gathering as dusk now comes hurtling towards me.
Some years back...
... I enjoyed this book — her second — by one of the late Roy Porter's PhD students. Not only did it have a wonderful title, but it told you (well, me) quite possibly more than you (well, me) really needed to know about sexuality and an eye-watering range of exuberant shenanigans in the 18th century, though she cheated a bit, actually stretching out her investigations by 50% to enable her to cover the years between 1680 and 1830:
I found it quite by chance while browsing in Waterstone's in May 2005. I didn't buy her next book (apparently it's a six-volume cultural history of sexuality) because, well, Life's probably a bit too short. Besides, (a) I was unaware of it, and (b) I've yet to tackle Proust, dagnabbit. However, her latest book caught my eye. It turned up today...
... along with the definitive collection of "Opus" (a cartoon hero and rôle model of mine) in his final five-year burst (2003 to 2008) of Sunday Comics colour glory, and the Blu-ray of "Cloud Atlas". That will probably get re-watched tonight, assuming I don't get flooded out of my house.
I've been jotting these notes while listening to an amazing story by the lady I first tried to watch here on the iPlayer, and then snaffled here on some DVDs. I recognised her voice :-)
Somewhat later
I have now re-watched the film, and seen all the 'extras' for the first time. It still impresses me. I note it also impressed Roger Ebert back in October 2012 (six months before he died).