2014 — 6 July: Sunday
Start the day as you mean to continue.1 We've plotted a little local walk for a couple of hours from now — hopefully ahead of any incoming rain. First, tea! And brekkie, of course. I note, too, a pension-sized hole in my account just waiting to be filled tomorrow...
Our fragrant guvmint's...
... fragrant Home Office could also have done some backing-up, it seems. Files are going missing "on an industrial scale". How could that possibly be? Of course, they could always just ask for copies from their chums over the water. Surely to goodness our elected MPs behave better than a few rotten apples in other slightly more entertainment-oriented walks of UK life when it comes to child sex abuse? Still, the boy Dave has asked that "answers" be found — apparently by reviewing the review of what, if anything, they got up to in the past. I feel greatly reassured. (Link.)
Five years on...
... I wearily note that this item on legal euthanasia is still true, in spades:
Let us note how the archbishops and rabbi stand together to block progress towards more humane laws. Technically, of course, each archbishop is doctrinally obliged to regard the other
one and the rabbi as one or more of heretic, infidel or apostate; their organisations spent most of history fighting, persecuting and executing each other; indeed all religions have to
regard all other religions as getting it wrong and misleading their votaries.
But when the religions are after a common goal, as with getting our tax money for their faith-based schools, or exemption from discrimination laws, or seats in parliament, they are a
united front. This used to be called hypocrisy, but no doubt modern theology has come up with a convoluted polysyllable to redefine it.
Tick-tock.
Back...
... and tucking into a light lunch accompanied by the last few minutes of Cerys on 6Music. This, after first chatting to the staff nurse at dear Mama's care-home. It seems dM has fresh, and unexplained, subcutaneous blood on her lower limbs. Mind you, her skin has for the last couple of decades been like tissue paper, so just bashing one leg against the other could well have caused this (painless) condition. She was completely unaware of it, as she is of 99% of everything, and thus unable to account for it. She's also in no apparent distress, but an 'investigatory team' now has to swing into action in strict adherence to the care-home's policy. Fair enough.
One could say "the clot thickens".
I was just...
... browsing through Larry Flynt's book, struck (among other things) by the fact that it's been 10 years since its publication...
... and things really haven't changed much. And certainly haven't improved, either. I'd pop a quote or two here, but there's just so much to choose between!
The Jennifer Morgue...
... has maintained the style, pace and humour of The Atrocity Archives, so I shall be moving on to The Fuller Memorandum this evening. However, feeding the Inner Man will have to come first, I suspect. [Pause] I wonder how many readers got this reference?
I notice her hands are a mess, reddish-brown grime ingrained around her nail beds: Jonathan Hoag territory.
Clue.