2015 — 26 August: Wednesday
Any walk today will mean that old saying about "rain before 7, fine before 11" having to be correct.1
Last night's...
... entertainment — crashingly dull in its dialogue and excruciatingly plodding in its pace — was Michael Powell's "Age of Consent". I wasn't watching the DVD that had arrived recently, but a newer US 45th anniversary re-mastered and restored version I'd only just found out about. The film's USP is a comely 15-year-old artistic muse (aka a 24-year-old Helen Mirren in her first film, appearing without benefit of over-much [often, any] involvement of the wardrobe2 department):
Then there was James "Humbert Humbert" Mason as a middle-aged painter loaded with ennui, seeking solitude and artistic renewal on the Great Barrier Reef. Or some such. His dog, Godfrey, showed a rare (and very welcome) comic talent. Maybe I'll re-watch "Sirens" — a modern version of the same tale. Meanwhile, it's time for breakfast. There's been a heavy shower, but it's temporarily brightened up a (very) little.
I don't deliberately...
... steep myself in tales of the loathsome Henry Kissinger, but I do still keep an occasional eye on material about him. His official biographer has an uphill struggle to attempt any rehabilitation, that's for sure. I prefer to recall what Christopher Hitchens said about him in "The Listener" quite some time ago:
When I had finished digesting 'The White House Years', I was so replete with its mendacity and conceit that I took a vow. I swore that I would never read another work by Kissinger until the publication of his prison letters.
Of course, Mr H went on to write a short book suggesting why Dr K should be indicted as a war criminal, but that's another story. [Pause] Today's walk, if it occurs, will be an afternoon affair. And only following a rain check, of course.
I've just finished...
... my latest cull of video titles, adding 5% to the "discard" pile. My selection criterion has been very simple: do I ever wish to watch this again? (Or, in some cases: do I ever wish to finish watching this tripe?) Now I've just been offered the chance to trade in my present PMC speakers for the "new, improved" variants. Would I even be able to hear the difference, I wonder? I rather doubt it.
But I shall trade in my empty mug of tea for a full one. Meanwhile, I still await today's promised Amazon delivery, though it's now getting a bit late. Still, at least the sun is shining, which makes a pleasant change from the several hours of fairly torrential rain we enjoyed earlier.
Big Bro had "no interest"...
... in dear Mama's papers. As I now shred them, I find an occasional gem. Here's a note explicitly addressed to him that she jotted on her accountant's annual invoice in September 2003:
When I read that she had "no-one here to help me" I almost swallowed my chewing gum, and made what could have been interpreted as a rude noise.3 The words "ungrateful" and "unappreciative" came to mind, along with a noun or two. But Bartok's sublime "Concerto for Orchestra" is one of tonight's Prom pieces. Very soothing it is, too.