2016 — 11 March: Friday
Even the tiny doses of political news1 that trickle through the BBC Radio 3 filtration process are almost unbearable. I have little desire to be guided in life by a lying former Prime Minister (see footnote) or a chap who takes his own guidance from an imaginary superbeing (see footnote). Nor do I really need to know that the White House still feels cuddly towards No. 10...
In those famous words from the time of Profumo that so often apply: "Well, he would say that, wouldn't he?"
Today's adventures...
... began with a pre-breakfast hunter-gathering trip to make good on yesterday's apparent overdose of nepenthe — when it wore off I also discovered that I had failed to "advance" the little date display on my watch by the two days that February lacked this year. I can only read the date if I take off my glasses — and I only ever wear the watch if I'm out and about (with glasses firmly on, to modify the incoming visual data). I find I rarely need to know the date. Indeed, I'm not even sure I need to know the time. Or the day.
More importantly, the spuds are safely gathered in. I even pushed the boat out (curious phrase) to the extent of getting another batch of root veg rather than salvaging what I could from the last lot. They are not quite at the point where they need shaving, but the last of the tomatoes were all sprouting white whiskers last time I inspected them, so it's only a matter of time.
There's even a croissant or two on the weekend menu if the young people manage to arrive before I've scoffed them all. And, inevitably, a spot of entropic perturbation is now on the day's agenda ahead of their arrival. I should hate them to start2 thinking I can't manage on my own. Who can fathom the inner workings of the younger generation? Not I! I gave that doomed endeavour up years ago.
I made a start...
... on Lee Smolin's account of his own seemingly-doomed endeavour — String Theory — last night. What an infinitely tangled web the younger generation of theoretical physicists has been weaving while I was busy having a Life and obviously looking the other way. It's enough to make your head spin to the point where you start reaching for another glass of nepenthe...
If only I hadn't forgotten where I keep it.
Found...
... in a comment thread to Yet Another Story about IBM job cuts and share buy-backs:
"How can IBM management not spot the obvious?"
Not to offend, but these incredibly short-sighted greedy American businesspeople fail to note that their actions are almost exactly identical to what brought Great Britain's magnificent industrial economy to a crashing halt: executives play Deck Chairs on the Titanic, patting
one another on the back while keeping their incomes, whilst cutting every production corner and penny/pound possible out of the system, thereby cheapening the value of the product to the actual consumers.
"But, Yossarian, suppose everybody felt that way?" "Then I'd be a damn fool to feel any different, wouldn't I?"
Sliced, diced,...
... and now on its thermal journey to my tum this evening. I've earned my next cuppa, methinks. After which, I will have succeeded in putting off the tidying-up for just about as long as I can. The sun is shining in a most Spring-like way hereabouts.
Having only recently...
... documented photographic evidence of dear Mama's generally unsmiling approach to Life, I was reminded (by this very ¬blog entry, so it must be true!) it was exactly nine years ago that Christa and I made what turned out to be our last-ever visit to the little bat cave in the Midlands. I took my camera, but was (as usual) forbidden to use it.
We got home after the 320-mile round trip just in time to watch the not-exactly relaxing Adam Curtis documentary "The Trap: what happened to our dream of freedom?" — I've found an interesting review here.
Time, as they say, flies. And freedom continues to evaporate.