2015 — 16 October: Friday
I continue to be impressed by the erudition of my chums.1 Last time I recall having anything to do with baking soda it was in the context of those little plastic submarines that would fall out of boxes of cornflakes. I've been confidently assured that judicious application of the stuff to my sink, followed by rinsing it off with vinegar, then deodorising what (if anything) remains of my sink by rubbing with lemon or orange peel, and buffing with a paper towel and some olive oil should restore my missing shine for up to a month.
Who knew? Well, in this case, it was Steve, the ex-owner of Pinpoint Music. Ta ever so!
I shall add...
... baking soda (which I'm fairly sure is different from caustic soda) to my next non-existent shopping list. I don't do lists. My modus operandi is first to glance into the fridge, the freezer, and Mother Hubbard's cupboard space, then compose a mental verse snippet of a string of appropriate nouns just before setting off on each trip. Short-term memory generally does the rest. Though I admit it's not a fool-proof system — I've been known to forget my wallet, or my destination. Or arrive an hour before they open.2
I don't believe...
... I've previously read a book review written by a chap on 23-hour punishment lockdown. Source and snippet:
It's likewise difficult to see how Franzen can be entirely unaware ... that we are concerned with the combination of state and corporate power exercised in secret, drawing upon advanced and little-known information technology, wielded in such a way as to narrow further and further the potential for truly private life while also contaminating the very information flow that a citizenry requires if it is to survive above the level of a subject population, defended by an opaque protocol of deception and retaliation, and aided and abetted by a dysfunctional establishment culture that was unequipped to even discover the problem without a great deal of help from outside that establishment, which has nonetheless studiously refrained from learning any lessons from all of this.
In a moment...
... of madness3 I'm dipping a cautious culinary toe (as it were) back into the wonderful world of crockpottery. Assuming I can locate the crockpot in the wake of Peter's g/f's re-org of my kitchen and dining room. I hope I still have my slicing and dicing skills, too. [Pause] It took me a while to find the new hiding place for my lamb stock, but I knew I'd insisted it not be chucked out as it wasn't due to go toxic before 08:40 on the 9th of September... I also took the precaution of washing my veg this time. I confess that was a first. The new batch is now embarked on its thermal adventure. It has a splash of real (Meisenheim) wine in it, too.
I can't quite bring myself to tackle the unstainless steel though I now own a little tub of "Bicarbonate of soda for bubbly batters". The lady in Waitrose said she combines it with vinegar to remove (for example) tea stains.
Ironic...
... that I should have mentioned Stendhal Syndrome just yesterday. Today I see it may not even have happened in the time and place described by Stendhal. Or at all. Is nothing immutable? (Link.)
Now that's...
... a low blow. Pity its demographic won't ever know it was struck:
Gotta love North American "politics" and the media circus clowns act.
Sadly, the programmer...
... who set up the online payee system at my bank failed to allow for the full baroque complexity of our splendid guvmint's Department of Work and Pensions. (Hard to believe, isn't it?) I have two separate repayments4 to make from dear Mama's estate. Both need to hit the same sort code and account, but each has its own "reference" number. Guess who never thought of that edge case?
Payment #1 under reference #1 shot through like greased lightning. OK, that was easy. Now load up payment #2. Cripes. Can't change its reference number. OK. Try to fool it with a different payee name (since only the sort code and account number actually matters). Oops, "ERROR, Account number is wrong." OK, now try the "amend the payee details" option (just to change the reference number). "WARNING, there's an inflight payment to that payee." (Yes, I know there is.) "It will be nuked if you alter any of these details." (That, I did not know.) This, despite "Faster Payments" assuring me my first payment has been made, and indeed I can already see the reduced account balance left in its wake, too.
I shall nip...
... gently and calmly across the village to Roger and Eileen to demand a soothing cuppa. With luck, this will give the bank's "system" enough time to finish fully digesting payment #1. When I get back, I shall first decant part of my delicious crockpot creation into a bowl and tuck in. Only then will I try deleting the payee completely and creating a "new" one, this time with the second reference number. Why am I singing that Flanders and Swann song about the gasman?
Chorus: "Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do..."
It's nice to walk back in...
... my door, knowing the house is warm, and there's a tasty evening meal waiting for me. While I admit it's not quite in the same league as Christa's hug and a smile, I can cope. (After all, I've had eight years of practice.)
Last time...
... I used a half-decent outliner was back in my RISC OS phase (which lasted 13 years, recall). I've just had Zim pointed out to me. A name I only previously know from the sergeant in the 1997 Verhoeven film "Starship Troopers" for which I retain5 a soft spot. Zim looks rather nice. Mind you, last time I actually needed a half-decent outliner was also back in my RISC OS phase... Most of the outlining I do these days is in my head as most of the 'projects' I tackle also fit in there. With room to spare.
x + y...
... is a marvellous film, by the way.