2015 — 26 April: Sunday
Oh dear, poor old Brenda is no longer listed1 among the top 300 "richest" (and, doubtless, most charming and talented) individuals in the UK. Doesn't this constitute lèse majesté? I'm reminded of the suggestion that "if you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at those to whom She gives most of the stuff".
Meanwhile...
... my once-fevered brow was still not quite back to "normal" yesterday, so I continued to potter gently around doing not a lot. (It's what I'm good at, after all.) One consequence being that I've now polished off the entire first season of "The Good Wife" which has turned out to be one of my far-better-than-average serendipity-based choices and a thoroughly Good Thing. (Though that could be my weakened system's opinion, of course.)
Tea it is. Followed, no doubt, by brekkie of some sort. Sunday already? Blimey! It looks a bit moist out there at the moment. I think I'll skip church. Again. Like I always have done.
I've been sent...
... a handy stock trading tip from a fellow traveller along my current Probate route. Not buying, but more precisely how to sell the things at low cost. Never having been much of one for shares2 and their accumulation, I appreciate the pointer.
A change of attitude...
I completely agree with this fine lady. (Link.)
Phyllida Law...
... has just told the nation (or, at least, the 1% or so who listen to BBC Radio 3) her "garlic-as-a-cure-for-hemorrhoids incident" story. An amusing woman. (Link.)
Since this delicious...
... item is still on the Chronicle's web site four years on, I couldn't resist repeating it. Source and snippet:
The New Atheists, it seems to me, have outraged the religious establishment by following the lead of the child who sees the Emperor parading along in his alleged new clothes. They have had the effrontery to announce that He is naked, whereupon the critics complain that the boy doesn't appreciate His detailed theological embroidery, hasn't adequately studied the intricacy of invisible clothmaking, or invested the requisite years of hard-headed analysis required to understand why apparent nakedness is actually a special kind of ultra-sophisticated vestment.
Professor Barash still gets my vote. [Pause] Meanwhile, I await news from a chum who's today visiting a mutual chum who's now about to start an unpleasant-sounding round of chemo. Why is it only nice people who get sick? It's often puzzled me. And, given that old saw about "only the good die young" I'm assuming it's an aspect of life that others have noticed, too.