2015 — 23 November: Monday
What a glorious way to start a frosty Monday morning!1 It's all that Clemency woman's fault, of course. I'd literally just switched on the radio in the middle of some gently jazz-inflected Purcell of a quality to stop me doing anything else... except take a gander at the programme's playlist, summon Mrs Google, and hand her the salient detail from it...
The rest was easy-peasy. Simply order both the CD it came from and a companion CD that also looks very promising. And I'm not even half-way through my first cuppa. Add them to yesterday's spot of Blu-ray self-indulgence...
... and that's my Xmas shopping for today, methinks. Well, before breakfast.
Neruda's love nest?
Is nothing sacred?
What struck me wasn't just the phalanx of pewter steins, crystal goblets and liquor bottles atop a ship's bar complete with wavelike chrome trim. Nor the iridescent green, red and blue wine glasses. Nor the huge technicolor watermelon-slice-in-a-bathtub oil painting, nor the blue-and-orange plaster walls, nor the Polish handmade dolls. Not even the barge of a table decked with traditional blue-and-white china, all looking almost normal until you notice the salt and pepper shakers are marked "Marijuana" and "Morphine."
So I seem to be...
... in the top 5% of global income distribution. Blimey!
In real purchasing power — not just money — someone living below the US poverty level, earning $11,000 a year, is in the top 15 per cent of the world income distribution. Someone earning $28,000 a year, the median individual income in the US, is in the
top 5 per cent... The bottom 20 per cent of the world's population earns less than $550 a year in US purchasing power...
Westerners should give to no beneficiaries in their own countries, only to charities that benefit the poorest people in the world in the cheapest possible way — usually by preventing or treating illnesses that hardly exist in our countries because they are
so easy to eliminate.
I lived in blissful ignorance of the concept of a QALY. It's a fascinating article.
The barometer...
... having shot up to "Schön" and the outside thermometer having soared all the way up to +4C I deemed it both safe and expedient to nip out on a quick pre-noon supplies sortie.
It's undeniably amusing...
... to think that I will never know if Christa was as adept at removing all visible evidence of mould from bread as I find I have perforce become in the last eight years.2 She may have been the factory owner's daughter, but she also spent six years as a relatively impoverished student — to some extent because she'd rejected her father's career plans for her — before coming over to the UK to make her own way in the world.
I've just eaten my last slice of de-mouldified bread — with relish (as it were) — as part of my "Good God! When did it become 14:55?" hastily-prepped accompaniment to my delicious crockpottery. "What happens in my kitchen stays in my kitchen."
:-)
You just can't stop...
... the music, can you? While I was rectifying Saturday's CD oversight ("The colours of the night") by Pete Atkin and Clive James I also made the mistake of visiting Pete's web site where I learned of, and thus caught up with, several more collaborations that are even now en route.
And I then went on to convince myself these were a grand idea, too...
Love, Poetry and Revolution (1966 to 1972)
This 2013 compilation is described as "A journey through the British psychedelic and underground scenes":
There's a pleasantly low degree of overlap with other such compilations of psychedelia I already own. And a wealth of trivia buried in the accompanying booklet.
Dust on the Nettles (1967 to 1972)
I'm somewhat less familiar with the material on this second set, but I'm always willing to give things a listen. This 2015 compilation is described as "A journey through the British underground folk scene":
I don't like to think how much of this little lot was spread across the vinyl albums I set loose over three decades ago... Meanwhile, all that lovely L'Arpeggiata has been jogging merrily along, allowing me to ignore the gathering twilight and think of my next cuppa instead.
Well over three hours later... there's not a duff track on the underground folk set. A very enjoyable collection. I shall be interested to hear what one of my keen folk-enthusiast chums makes of it.