28/05/97
My dear folks,
There is peace in the house if not exactly order. It’s been a busy 24 hours & quite satisfying. First & foremost, Mr Mavis & Pupu have both paid their reluctant annual visits to the vet. Stef & I met mid-morning at her front door, Pupu squealing in her plastic cage & Mave (who doesn’t run to cages) hissing his displeasure from the top of a partially zipped carry-bag. He’d let me know in no uncertain terms how he felt this mode of transport. We manoeuvred the four of us into the Rocket & set out.
At the vet, the receptionist was carrying on a solemn phone conversation with an unknown party about a pet to be disposed of, its “ashes to be scattered over the animal cemetery”. It’s not Mave’s ashes that get scattered around, it’s his bloody hairs. Mave & I sat there unfeelingly while Pupu got done. When it came to his turn, I got a lecture on the danger of urine crystals which ordinary cat-foods pose, especially to large neutered male felines. Emergency treatment I was warned was “very expensive”. I said I’d operate myself with a screwdriver – horrified gasp from lady carrying meowing tortoiseshell cat. Mave, having had his examination & suffered his jabs, leapt straight back into the carry bag. He’d got to know a good thing when he saw it. Drama over for another year! We both feel we don’t need it.
The rest of the day is going on my next application to BBC OnLine, this time for real jobs. Requires a lengthy exposition of how one would set out the site & reflect the news of 27 May. I spent a couple of hours on the Net last night taking note of what various rival operations had done. You won’t want details. I’ll need to drop in on the Beeb later to fetch the right application form, having been sent the wrong one.
There’s one programme on my computer I must mention in passing. I’d been fiddling around with the multi-media features with a view to adding “audio editing” to my impressive list of PC skills. In doing so, I stumbled across a programme that allows one to compose music on a virtual piano keyboard. You simply mark in the note or notes you want & their length, then you press “play” to hear how your composition sounds. If you’re clever enough, you can add all kinds of features & beats. I suppose that if you’re clever enough, you can compose real music. I didn’t get that far. What I still have to do is to hook up the microphone to the computer, try recording something & then see if I can edit it. I know that one can buy software for this. I’m just not sure if it comes ready supplied.
Awaiting attention are the door & window frames around the patio. They’d long been showing signs of the battering they’ve taken these last two winters. So I’ve rubbed them down & bunged on layers of primer & undercoat. I’ll finish the job with gloss this evening. Looks vastly better already.
Also looking much happier are the patio flowers which I’ve given a good going over, mixing new goo into the troughs, aerating the soil & thoroughly watering everything.. The leaves on the newest climber were getting marked with a nasty bug. I took a leaf along to the nursery, which identified the infection as mildew & supplied me with the appropriate muti. The last few days have started chilly & rapidly warmed up, finishing with long sunny evenings. (Jones CNN forecasts cloud for Faro Wed/Thur and showers Fri/Sat.) I dropped in on Stef & Herman last night to compare notes & holiday plans. For once they’re not trying to finish half a dozen jobs simultaneously. I’m enjoying the second of four consecutive days off (assuming I’m not called in), utter luxury………enough for the moment.
Blessings
T
Sunday, 5 September 2010
25May1997
25/05/97
My dear folks
It’s a glorious Sunday afternoon. Mavis lies pensive in a patch of sunlight on the study carpet. There’s a Grieg nocturne to accompany my thoughts. They are full of flowers & birds & rural scenes. Did you see those “alliance” troops tramping their weary way into Kinshasa a few days ago at the end of a 2,000 mile trek across then Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo)? I think I know how they felt, or at least how their legs felt. For I have had a walking weekend, a very walking weekend indeed.
It began at 9 a.m. yest when knapsack & I set out for Victoria Station to catch the 10.08 to East Croydon en route to the home of nephew Bevan Jones in the village of Balcombe. I’d meant to get away sooner but got caught up with things as one inevitably does. Now it takes 75 mins to walk to Victoria & trying to do it in 65 forces you first into an anxious trot & finally into a desperate canter. Thus I found myself breathless & ticketless trying to make sense of the huge electronic departure board with three minutes to spare when Bevan tapped me on the arm. He’d needed to come into town to buy a book. I was very pleased to see him, especially as I discovered that my notional train didn’t exist. So we walked up to the Economist Bookshop a mile away & then we walked back & made light work of large coffees.
Balcombe is a small village two stops south of Gatwick airport. A pub, a news-agent, a tea-room, a unisex hairdresser & a clothes shop cluster around the crossroads at its heart. You might add a church & a bowling green to a few score houses & you’ve done Balcombe. Bevan has an apartment in a large, sub-divided house, 10 mins from the station. It’s a very neat apartment, reflecting both the Jones genes & Bevan’s naval inheritance. The bathroom utensils line up as immaculately for inspection as the contents of the grocery cupboard. Everything knows its place & keeps it. Bevan made smoked salmon sandwiches to accompany us on our planned walk through the countryside. Mercifully we passed the village pub on the way & I dragged him in for a quick pint, the first I’ve had in some months. Tasted wonderful.
Thence down the road, across the fields, to a large reservoir where we ate the sandwiches & watched sail-boarders skimming over the water – or falling into it – before I fell asleep myself on the bank. Occasional parties of walkers passed by. An ageing Labrador detached himself from his owners to inspect our food bag. It clearly appealed to him & they had to drag him reluctantly away. To our amusement he trailed them for just a few yards before sprinting back to us. It was several minutes before they missed him & returned to claim him a second time. Next we came upon some small boys throwing stones at ducks & we lectured them severely on ducks’ rights. Such are the adventures of the English countryside.
It was a further full hour down country lanes & across green meadows – invisible trains whooshing past & Saturday p.m. music blaring from occasional windows – before the village pub hove back in sight. Not before time. We sat back in the evening sunshine, quaffed beers & talked of barmaids & Porsches & trading steel between third countries, which is what Bevan does for a living.
For supper we caught a train 20 mins down the line to Brighton where we joined the crowds seeking a night out. Brighton is a place that bops, especially on a Saturday evening. The streets were filled with eager crowds. A chill wind swirled down from the hills, bringing a shiver to your more foolish maidens in their summer frocks. Indeed, it was one of those days when it’s hard to be dressed just warmly enough. Either the sun would come out & cook you in a jacket or the wind would sidle up behind you & mug you with a wintry blast.
We found ourselves a fish restaurant that served us a reasonable supper although I don’t think I’d take anyone there again. Just a bit too pedestrian, especially when one has tasted the grilled fish served up at O Muralho in Loule. The return train was packed. There were loudly giggling girls, couples lost in each other’s arms, groups of gays caught up in their world & the odd oldies (just about anything over 40) looking rather out of place. I’ve never taken a train to supper before. A novel experience!
I spent the night at Bevan’s flat. Can’t remember when I did so much sleeping. Once or twice, I woke to turn on the news & remember hearing with dismay that the Taliban had overrun Mazar-i-Sharif, (stronghold of the Uzbek warlord, General Dostum &) the last real obstacle to their total control of the country. Poor Afghans. Heartening then to see that Iran’s ayatollahs have got a clear message from their electorate over the weekend – and it’s not for any more Islamic impositions. I can’t see the Taliban seeking any such mandate from the people of Afghanistan.
And so to my last train of the weekend. In the past two days I have learned a great deal about trains which, until now, have simply sped disinterestedly past me in & out of Paddington as I cycled to & from work. As you know, British Rail is no more. Instead there are any number of privatised companies, two of which work the lines south to Brighton. One uses desirable new coaches with automatic doors, the other old coaches with “slam doors”. There are no railway staff at tiny stations like Balcombe over the weekend. Passengers are meant to purchase a voucher from a machine & then pay the balance owing. But there are few conductors to enforce the system. Clearly, there’s a fine line between the costs of staffing the service & the income to be made from collecting fares. Bevan was familiar with the tricks of the trade & shared them with me. Indeed, the world of the rail commuter was opened to me & I found it quite fascinating.
Tomorrow I work. Then I’m off for a couple of days. Several new posts have now been formally advertised with BBC OnLine & I shall have another crack at it. There are lengthy application forms to be filled in, plus models of how one would cover the news on a particular day. I shall also try to impose a little more discipline on the flat, having seen exactly how it ought to be done…not too much of course. There’s nothing like the golden medium for a happy life.
Blessings
T
My dear folks
It’s a glorious Sunday afternoon. Mavis lies pensive in a patch of sunlight on the study carpet. There’s a Grieg nocturne to accompany my thoughts. They are full of flowers & birds & rural scenes. Did you see those “alliance” troops tramping their weary way into Kinshasa a few days ago at the end of a 2,000 mile trek across then Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo)? I think I know how they felt, or at least how their legs felt. For I have had a walking weekend, a very walking weekend indeed.
It began at 9 a.m. yest when knapsack & I set out for Victoria Station to catch the 10.08 to East Croydon en route to the home of nephew Bevan Jones in the village of Balcombe. I’d meant to get away sooner but got caught up with things as one inevitably does. Now it takes 75 mins to walk to Victoria & trying to do it in 65 forces you first into an anxious trot & finally into a desperate canter. Thus I found myself breathless & ticketless trying to make sense of the huge electronic departure board with three minutes to spare when Bevan tapped me on the arm. He’d needed to come into town to buy a book. I was very pleased to see him, especially as I discovered that my notional train didn’t exist. So we walked up to the Economist Bookshop a mile away & then we walked back & made light work of large coffees.
Balcombe is a small village two stops south of Gatwick airport. A pub, a news-agent, a tea-room, a unisex hairdresser & a clothes shop cluster around the crossroads at its heart. You might add a church & a bowling green to a few score houses & you’ve done Balcombe. Bevan has an apartment in a large, sub-divided house, 10 mins from the station. It’s a very neat apartment, reflecting both the Jones genes & Bevan’s naval inheritance. The bathroom utensils line up as immaculately for inspection as the contents of the grocery cupboard. Everything knows its place & keeps it. Bevan made smoked salmon sandwiches to accompany us on our planned walk through the countryside. Mercifully we passed the village pub on the way & I dragged him in for a quick pint, the first I’ve had in some months. Tasted wonderful.
Thence down the road, across the fields, to a large reservoir where we ate the sandwiches & watched sail-boarders skimming over the water – or falling into it – before I fell asleep myself on the bank. Occasional parties of walkers passed by. An ageing Labrador detached himself from his owners to inspect our food bag. It clearly appealed to him & they had to drag him reluctantly away. To our amusement he trailed them for just a few yards before sprinting back to us. It was several minutes before they missed him & returned to claim him a second time. Next we came upon some small boys throwing stones at ducks & we lectured them severely on ducks’ rights. Such are the adventures of the English countryside.
It was a further full hour down country lanes & across green meadows – invisible trains whooshing past & Saturday p.m. music blaring from occasional windows – before the village pub hove back in sight. Not before time. We sat back in the evening sunshine, quaffed beers & talked of barmaids & Porsches & trading steel between third countries, which is what Bevan does for a living.
For supper we caught a train 20 mins down the line to Brighton where we joined the crowds seeking a night out. Brighton is a place that bops, especially on a Saturday evening. The streets were filled with eager crowds. A chill wind swirled down from the hills, bringing a shiver to your more foolish maidens in their summer frocks. Indeed, it was one of those days when it’s hard to be dressed just warmly enough. Either the sun would come out & cook you in a jacket or the wind would sidle up behind you & mug you with a wintry blast.
We found ourselves a fish restaurant that served us a reasonable supper although I don’t think I’d take anyone there again. Just a bit too pedestrian, especially when one has tasted the grilled fish served up at O Muralho in Loule. The return train was packed. There were loudly giggling girls, couples lost in each other’s arms, groups of gays caught up in their world & the odd oldies (just about anything over 40) looking rather out of place. I’ve never taken a train to supper before. A novel experience!
I spent the night at Bevan’s flat. Can’t remember when I did so much sleeping. Once or twice, I woke to turn on the news & remember hearing with dismay that the Taliban had overrun Mazar-i-Sharif, (stronghold of the Uzbek warlord, General Dostum &) the last real obstacle to their total control of the country. Poor Afghans. Heartening then to see that Iran’s ayatollahs have got a clear message from their electorate over the weekend – and it’s not for any more Islamic impositions. I can’t see the Taliban seeking any such mandate from the people of Afghanistan.
And so to my last train of the weekend. In the past two days I have learned a great deal about trains which, until now, have simply sped disinterestedly past me in & out of Paddington as I cycled to & from work. As you know, British Rail is no more. Instead there are any number of privatised companies, two of which work the lines south to Brighton. One uses desirable new coaches with automatic doors, the other old coaches with “slam doors”. There are no railway staff at tiny stations like Balcombe over the weekend. Passengers are meant to purchase a voucher from a machine & then pay the balance owing. But there are few conductors to enforce the system. Clearly, there’s a fine line between the costs of staffing the service & the income to be made from collecting fares. Bevan was familiar with the tricks of the trade & shared them with me. Indeed, the world of the rail commuter was opened to me & I found it quite fascinating.
Tomorrow I work. Then I’m off for a couple of days. Several new posts have now been formally advertised with BBC OnLine & I shall have another crack at it. There are lengthy application forms to be filled in, plus models of how one would cover the news on a particular day. I shall also try to impose a little more discipline on the flat, having seen exactly how it ought to be done…not too much of course. There’s nothing like the golden medium for a happy life.
Blessings
T
21May1997
21/05/97
My dear folks
I have meant all week to tell you about the most significant event this year in Maida Vale - & each day it’s escaped me. “The Elgin Lokanta” is no more. It was there that I led my “flat” acquaintances last week, only to find the place closed without explanation. Very puzzling! The Lokanta was one of your 365 day a year phenomena. It was only when I subsequently bumped into the manager outside the tube station that the truth emerged. It was being sold. My horror was genuine, all the more so when I heard that it was to become a Thai restaurant; we’ve enough of those already. The manager told me that his brother & partner had twice had to undergo radical heart surgery & they’d thought it time to call it a day. It feels like the removal of a familiar & reassuring milestone. We’d patronised it ever since our arrival here in 1980 & few were the family & friends we did not take there for a meal.
It’s been a mucky day. I mis-installed some software & had to spend an hour trying to sort it out. Very annoying. I took myself off for a long reassuring walk around Hyde Park, dropping in at the supermarket on the way home to replenish stocks. The cashier’s electronic till gave the ghost mid-way & needed machine heart massage to process the rest of my order. The cashier apologised profusely. I assured her that my computer could be just as awkward & I was quite used to it. I staggered home with a bulging backpack & two plastic bags slung over a stick on my shoulder. Dick Whittington must have walked lopsided by the time he arrived in London. Mavis promptly stuck his nose into a large pack of cat biscuits & indicated that an early tea wouldn’t go amiss. Jones, where did you buy that molasses? I need another bottle.
I see that wedding arrangements continue apace in Calgary. These things do pick up a certain momentum, like a cart that’s over the brow of the hill. As you will gather Canadians, I think a bed in the study or wherever will do me very well. My only complaint concerns the malicious rumours being put about that I dislike presents. Lord knows! the last thing I should want is to dissuade any patrons & sponsors. I am as ready as the next man to accept tribute graciously. What I dislike is merely rushing to strip gifts untimely naked, like some impatiently groping youth. As for your hopeless weather forecasters, they’re probably accountants on career breaks. I’ll send you some of our forecasts instead. They tend to be quite good.
Here, the Labour govt has outlawed the use of personnel landmines & will get rid of its stocks. Interesting! Princess Di, no less, has campaigned for the cause. After seeing the one-legged rural populations of Cambodia & Angola, I applaud the move. As Martin Bell says, personnel mines don’t respect a ceasefire. Sadly, others will quickly step in to supply any demand. Government officials have also been talking to Sinn Fein, making an early start at a resolution of the Irish problem. I wish them luck. In my experience, trying to solve the Irish problem is like trying to dance in superglue!
Cathy, thank you for your call & your considerate offer. I tore up my copy of the Namibia report a couple of years back, consigning it to one of my past lives. I think I shall ask you to do the same with your copy. Jones, I’ve had a message from Lo asking me to call her back, which I’ll do. I also had a letter & cheque today from Mary Cockerell who arrives in Faro at 10.10 on Sunday 8 June for a week. (Sunday to Sunday, not Monday to Monday as indicated on the schedule.) I shall write back & ask her if she’d like us to try to lay on your tame taxi driver to meet her. Do you know approximately what he charges for the trip?
My dear folks
I have meant all week to tell you about the most significant event this year in Maida Vale - & each day it’s escaped me. “The Elgin Lokanta” is no more. It was there that I led my “flat” acquaintances last week, only to find the place closed without explanation. Very puzzling! The Lokanta was one of your 365 day a year phenomena. It was only when I subsequently bumped into the manager outside the tube station that the truth emerged. It was being sold. My horror was genuine, all the more so when I heard that it was to become a Thai restaurant; we’ve enough of those already. The manager told me that his brother & partner had twice had to undergo radical heart surgery & they’d thought it time to call it a day. It feels like the removal of a familiar & reassuring milestone. We’d patronised it ever since our arrival here in 1980 & few were the family & friends we did not take there for a meal.
It’s been a mucky day. I mis-installed some software & had to spend an hour trying to sort it out. Very annoying. I took myself off for a long reassuring walk around Hyde Park, dropping in at the supermarket on the way home to replenish stocks. The cashier’s electronic till gave the ghost mid-way & needed machine heart massage to process the rest of my order. The cashier apologised profusely. I assured her that my computer could be just as awkward & I was quite used to it. I staggered home with a bulging backpack & two plastic bags slung over a stick on my shoulder. Dick Whittington must have walked lopsided by the time he arrived in London. Mavis promptly stuck his nose into a large pack of cat biscuits & indicated that an early tea wouldn’t go amiss. Jones, where did you buy that molasses? I need another bottle.
I see that wedding arrangements continue apace in Calgary. These things do pick up a certain momentum, like a cart that’s over the brow of the hill. As you will gather Canadians, I think a bed in the study or wherever will do me very well. My only complaint concerns the malicious rumours being put about that I dislike presents. Lord knows! the last thing I should want is to dissuade any patrons & sponsors. I am as ready as the next man to accept tribute graciously. What I dislike is merely rushing to strip gifts untimely naked, like some impatiently groping youth. As for your hopeless weather forecasters, they’re probably accountants on career breaks. I’ll send you some of our forecasts instead. They tend to be quite good.
Here, the Labour govt has outlawed the use of personnel landmines & will get rid of its stocks. Interesting! Princess Di, no less, has campaigned for the cause. After seeing the one-legged rural populations of Cambodia & Angola, I applaud the move. As Martin Bell says, personnel mines don’t respect a ceasefire. Sadly, others will quickly step in to supply any demand. Government officials have also been talking to Sinn Fein, making an early start at a resolution of the Irish problem. I wish them luck. In my experience, trying to solve the Irish problem is like trying to dance in superglue!
Cathy, thank you for your call & your considerate offer. I tore up my copy of the Namibia report a couple of years back, consigning it to one of my past lives. I think I shall ask you to do the same with your copy. Jones, I’ve had a message from Lo asking me to call her back, which I’ll do. I also had a letter & cheque today from Mary Cockerell who arrives in Faro at 10.10 on Sunday 8 June for a week. (Sunday to Sunday, not Monday to Monday as indicated on the schedule.) I shall write back & ask her if she’d like us to try to lay on your tame taxi driver to meet her. Do you know approximately what he charges for the trip?
20May1997
Tuesday 20 May 1997
My dear folks,
I’ve got two bags of goo bubbling away in a saucepan on the stove. We’ve nearing the end of a showery day. Old Mave made it plain on my arrival back from a shopping trip this p.m. that an early supper would be in order. He’s now retired to his lamp & his thoughts. The early evening news is telling us about all the world’s problems & I am writing to you.
The morning went on working out the annual accounts for 4 of “my flats”. It’s a proper pain & one I put off for as long as possible. It means comparing cheque stubs, bank statements & invoices, & a gale of files strewn around the study, as I prepare accounts for the auditors. At least I had an undisturbed morning to get on with it. An hour went into exploring the capabilities of my super-clever Office 97 spreadsheets, a great advance on the Works software I’ve used previously. The programme constantly tries to guess what you might want next, hovering in the background like a helpful assistant & making occasional suggestions about working methods. Some of them are really useful, too. By lunch I was all but done. Now I have to repeat the exercise with 3 more flats & finally with the 90 Shirland Road Management Company of which I have been Secretary these past 10 years.
I was glad to get out of the flat after the lunchtime news. It took me ten minutes of peering through the front windows at the vacillating drizzle before I decided on using the bike rather than my feet. After the inevitable round of stops in Maida Vale (you must surely know them my heart) I cycled into town to raid a music store or two. I have got to know my current CD repertoire by heart & was bent on extending it. I’ve taken the trouble to set up a database of all the classical recordings on my shelf – and took the list with me to town. There are several big music stores on Oxford Street & close by. In the event, I spent an hour in the first one I came to (HMV) & then played hide & seek with the rain showers as I returned home with a knapsack full of (mainly cut-price) CDs. I’ve added their details to the database & begun listening to them – with much pleasure.
Jones I got hold of Bevan this p.m. & arranged to spend Saturday with him. I had another enquiry about the Quinta but not for a period when we have any vacancies. The patio garden has been prospering, especially those plants which made their own way into the tubs & troughs. There are several that absolutely leap up & have a brilliant head of flowers on them in a matter of weeks. Both the pink & white roses are flowering & the climbers are climbing. The one death trap is the round tub in the corner of the patio. Everything I plant there just keels over. I pulled out a couple of corpses yesterday, both of them lacking roots. There must be some monster that lives just under the surface & devours everything that comes its way. The troughs overlooking the street are looking good, with faithful pink geraniums in pride of place.
There’s another shower plicketing on the patio outside. They’re welcome all to be sure. Cathy I scanned a couple of those early letters (of mine that you returned) into the computer last night. Most of them made sense & were really interesting to dip back into, a great improvement on the first one I read with such dismay. The scanner is very fussy. It needs clear type if it’s to work properly. Try it with a carbon copy or a faint type face & it throws a word salad at you.
Enough for one night
love
T
My dear folks,
I’ve got two bags of goo bubbling away in a saucepan on the stove. We’ve nearing the end of a showery day. Old Mave made it plain on my arrival back from a shopping trip this p.m. that an early supper would be in order. He’s now retired to his lamp & his thoughts. The early evening news is telling us about all the world’s problems & I am writing to you.
The morning went on working out the annual accounts for 4 of “my flats”. It’s a proper pain & one I put off for as long as possible. It means comparing cheque stubs, bank statements & invoices, & a gale of files strewn around the study, as I prepare accounts for the auditors. At least I had an undisturbed morning to get on with it. An hour went into exploring the capabilities of my super-clever Office 97 spreadsheets, a great advance on the Works software I’ve used previously. The programme constantly tries to guess what you might want next, hovering in the background like a helpful assistant & making occasional suggestions about working methods. Some of them are really useful, too. By lunch I was all but done. Now I have to repeat the exercise with 3 more flats & finally with the 90 Shirland Road Management Company of which I have been Secretary these past 10 years.
I was glad to get out of the flat after the lunchtime news. It took me ten minutes of peering through the front windows at the vacillating drizzle before I decided on using the bike rather than my feet. After the inevitable round of stops in Maida Vale (you must surely know them my heart) I cycled into town to raid a music store or two. I have got to know my current CD repertoire by heart & was bent on extending it. I’ve taken the trouble to set up a database of all the classical recordings on my shelf – and took the list with me to town. There are several big music stores on Oxford Street & close by. In the event, I spent an hour in the first one I came to (HMV) & then played hide & seek with the rain showers as I returned home with a knapsack full of (mainly cut-price) CDs. I’ve added their details to the database & begun listening to them – with much pleasure.
Jones I got hold of Bevan this p.m. & arranged to spend Saturday with him. I had another enquiry about the Quinta but not for a period when we have any vacancies. The patio garden has been prospering, especially those plants which made their own way into the tubs & troughs. There are several that absolutely leap up & have a brilliant head of flowers on them in a matter of weeks. Both the pink & white roses are flowering & the climbers are climbing. The one death trap is the round tub in the corner of the patio. Everything I plant there just keels over. I pulled out a couple of corpses yesterday, both of them lacking roots. There must be some monster that lives just under the surface & devours everything that comes its way. The troughs overlooking the street are looking good, with faithful pink geraniums in pride of place.
There’s another shower plicketing on the patio outside. They’re welcome all to be sure. Cathy I scanned a couple of those early letters (of mine that you returned) into the computer last night. Most of them made sense & were really interesting to dip back into, a great improvement on the first one I read with such dismay. The scanner is very fussy. It needs clear type if it’s to work properly. Try it with a carbon copy or a faint type face & it throws a word salad at you.
Enough for one night
love
T
19May1997
Monday 19
(To strains of Beethoven’s piano sonatas.)
Mother your three page fax has just rolled off the machine. Thank you. You have had a busy week, have you not & a splendid one by the sound of it. I can’t speak for Iris’s phone bill but I’ve no doubt that Kenneth winces. And it’s not too late for either of you to go on to email. You’ve been preached at enough, I know, but you can send 50 emails for the price of a local phone call & I often do. I should be only too happy to spend a couple of July days inducting you into the mysteries if you should feel in the least tempted.
Re our new Labour government, so far it wins my full approval & that’s something not lightly given. I commend its parliamentary programme & its first moves on Northern Ireland; likewise its handing control over interest rates to the Bank of England & its whacking of our water companies (with their huge profits & leaks) sharply over the knuckles. No doubt the honeymoon will end, as all honeymoons must. But the new government has put its right foot very firmly forward. The Conservatives are still hopelessly divided as they bicker & backstab in the run up to their leadership contest. One candidate, my most odious villain, Michael Howard, the former Home Secretary, is being mauled by his former deputy, the formidable Ann Widdecombe, who says he’s a proper shit & not trustworthy. She’s quite right too. His hopes are all but dashed. It can only be a good thing for his party. Meanwhile, I note that Canada is preparing for its own election. Your views??
I hadn’t spoken to Kevin & Ann about accommodation, although I’d assumed that I’d be staying in the B&B. But to be with them will suit me very well indeed – and them too in all likelihood, as you say. I had a note from Penny yesterday asking if I’d read a passage from Paul at the wedding service. Said if she thought I was a suitable person to do so, it was fine by me.
It’s a muggy day here, with the odd light shower. I spent two hours getting through a mound of washing & ironing before doing my usual rounds. The phone went at one point. Turned out to be Beeb short-handed yet again & wondering if I might do another extra shift. I groaned so loudly that I barely had to reply. I did feel for the shift lady though. She has an impossible task trying to fill the gaps that arise all the time. Most of us have all the work we can cope with & are not looking for more. And it’s going to get steadily worse as the drift to new departments continues.
Anyhow, I don’t mean to end on a negative note. I have the most heavenly music rolling through my superb new speakers & a tranquil afternoon & evening to look forward to. Will leave it there and send you lots of love.
(To strains of Beethoven’s piano sonatas.)
Mother your three page fax has just rolled off the machine. Thank you. You have had a busy week, have you not & a splendid one by the sound of it. I can’t speak for Iris’s phone bill but I’ve no doubt that Kenneth winces. And it’s not too late for either of you to go on to email. You’ve been preached at enough, I know, but you can send 50 emails for the price of a local phone call & I often do. I should be only too happy to spend a couple of July days inducting you into the mysteries if you should feel in the least tempted.
Re our new Labour government, so far it wins my full approval & that’s something not lightly given. I commend its parliamentary programme & its first moves on Northern Ireland; likewise its handing control over interest rates to the Bank of England & its whacking of our water companies (with their huge profits & leaks) sharply over the knuckles. No doubt the honeymoon will end, as all honeymoons must. But the new government has put its right foot very firmly forward. The Conservatives are still hopelessly divided as they bicker & backstab in the run up to their leadership contest. One candidate, my most odious villain, Michael Howard, the former Home Secretary, is being mauled by his former deputy, the formidable Ann Widdecombe, who says he’s a proper shit & not trustworthy. She’s quite right too. His hopes are all but dashed. It can only be a good thing for his party. Meanwhile, I note that Canada is preparing for its own election. Your views??
I hadn’t spoken to Kevin & Ann about accommodation, although I’d assumed that I’d be staying in the B&B. But to be with them will suit me very well indeed – and them too in all likelihood, as you say. I had a note from Penny yesterday asking if I’d read a passage from Paul at the wedding service. Said if she thought I was a suitable person to do so, it was fine by me.
It’s a muggy day here, with the odd light shower. I spent two hours getting through a mound of washing & ironing before doing my usual rounds. The phone went at one point. Turned out to be Beeb short-handed yet again & wondering if I might do another extra shift. I groaned so loudly that I barely had to reply. I did feel for the shift lady though. She has an impossible task trying to fill the gaps that arise all the time. Most of us have all the work we can cope with & are not looking for more. And it’s going to get steadily worse as the drift to new departments continues.
Anyhow, I don’t mean to end on a negative note. I have the most heavenly music rolling through my superb new speakers & a tranquil afternoon & evening to look forward to. Will leave it there and send you lots of love.
18May1997
My dear folks, Sunday 18/05/97
The end of a long week! I’m near worked into the ground. With any luck, I now have three days off – unless I’m cruelly called in. Oh what a blissfully sweet thought. I can’t tell you how I relish it. Thank you for lots of faxes & emails. I’ll sit down and go through them again, properly, before this is done. It’s been a Zaire weekend. It’s a story I’ve long been following & I promoted it heavily on Wednesday to the evening current affairs editor who paid me the compliment of making it the lead. That was when Laurent Kabila’s forces started to break through the army lines at a bridgehead 100 kms from Kinshasa.
I had Thursday off; went walking with cousin Jud in the morning & then had a session – including a winey dinner out – with a couple of “my” flat owners. On Friday, I went in to work an extra shift on a news review programme but found myself sucked into the Zaire drama as news emerged of Mobutu’s flight from the capital & the rebel advance. We went live for 3 hours with a rolling news programme.
Saturday Kabila’s troops rolled into town. Proved a busy day for them and us, as well as our several correspondents in the capital. The Beeb is a hungry machine with half a dozen radio & TV channels that want endless tracks & live interviews – most of them by phone as satellite feeds cost a fortune. Our team was two down & struggling to cope. I was midway through one bulletin transmission when we glimpsed a Kinshasa feed coming in on one of the screens. It turned out that there were a couple of minutes to spare at the end of the satellite booking & we broke our backs to get a correspondent up & into the programme. I also near broke my leg falling over a bench as I was leaping about the gallery. We got our interview, counting the presenter down to the very last second available on the feed. I’ve also got a bloody weal across my shins for my pains. Today was easier especially as we were up to strength again. I briefly napped on the boss’s couch both days – going out like a light & waking much refreshed.
Friday night it started to pour as I left the Beeb & I left reluctantly abandoned the bike & took a mini-cab from the dingy office at White City station, just over the road. To my utter astonishment, the driver took a short cut that I’d never dreamed existed – after two years of cycling through the area. I gave him a generous tip & a warm good night. I was able to walk to work in 45 mins the next morning instead of the hour it’s taken before - & to ride home in 15 mins that evening instead of 20. I celebrated the same route again this morning. There’s nothing else on the roads at 6.30 a.m. on a Sunday. The sun was up & I rejoiced in the freshness & tranquillity of the day. It felt even better as I returned with the day behind me this evening.
So that’s been my week. Cathy, an amazing conclusion to your soaked cellar episode & a welcome one – with the insurance company to pick up the tab. Was it just a bad joint in the pipe that was causing the problem? With leaking roofs in London & Portugal making a formative part of our own experience, we empathise in your troubles. I note that Anita is now off to her own French family. Oh but they grow up so fast! Makes me recall – I’m not sure why – the mob of shriekies who spent the whole of yesterday clustered outside the BBC gates, keening every time they thought they glimpsed some boy pop star. Throughout the day, their shrill wailing filled the corridors. They were still determinedly clustered there when I left yest, the victims of some exploding female hormone. Must be utterly terrifying to be the object of their attentions.
Thank you too Jones for your Quintassential accounts. However unseasonable & disruptive the rain showers, the garden will have been glad of them. Warming fires in mid-May do sound slightly ridiculous. According to the CNN weather forecast, you are due for partly cloudy conditions all week with temps rising several degrees over the next few days from current lows of 12 / highs of 20. I note the successful departure of Lo & that Piet is back on the job. Please pass my thanks on to him. There are deck chairs on sale in Swiss cottage. I plan to bring some down with me in June unless you advise me otherwise.
The end of a long week! I’m near worked into the ground. With any luck, I now have three days off – unless I’m cruelly called in. Oh what a blissfully sweet thought. I can’t tell you how I relish it. Thank you for lots of faxes & emails. I’ll sit down and go through them again, properly, before this is done. It’s been a Zaire weekend. It’s a story I’ve long been following & I promoted it heavily on Wednesday to the evening current affairs editor who paid me the compliment of making it the lead. That was when Laurent Kabila’s forces started to break through the army lines at a bridgehead 100 kms from Kinshasa.
I had Thursday off; went walking with cousin Jud in the morning & then had a session – including a winey dinner out – with a couple of “my” flat owners. On Friday, I went in to work an extra shift on a news review programme but found myself sucked into the Zaire drama as news emerged of Mobutu’s flight from the capital & the rebel advance. We went live for 3 hours with a rolling news programme.
Saturday Kabila’s troops rolled into town. Proved a busy day for them and us, as well as our several correspondents in the capital. The Beeb is a hungry machine with half a dozen radio & TV channels that want endless tracks & live interviews – most of them by phone as satellite feeds cost a fortune. Our team was two down & struggling to cope. I was midway through one bulletin transmission when we glimpsed a Kinshasa feed coming in on one of the screens. It turned out that there were a couple of minutes to spare at the end of the satellite booking & we broke our backs to get a correspondent up & into the programme. I also near broke my leg falling over a bench as I was leaping about the gallery. We got our interview, counting the presenter down to the very last second available on the feed. I’ve also got a bloody weal across my shins for my pains. Today was easier especially as we were up to strength again. I briefly napped on the boss’s couch both days – going out like a light & waking much refreshed.
Friday night it started to pour as I left the Beeb & I left reluctantly abandoned the bike & took a mini-cab from the dingy office at White City station, just over the road. To my utter astonishment, the driver took a short cut that I’d never dreamed existed – after two years of cycling through the area. I gave him a generous tip & a warm good night. I was able to walk to work in 45 mins the next morning instead of the hour it’s taken before - & to ride home in 15 mins that evening instead of 20. I celebrated the same route again this morning. There’s nothing else on the roads at 6.30 a.m. on a Sunday. The sun was up & I rejoiced in the freshness & tranquillity of the day. It felt even better as I returned with the day behind me this evening.
So that’s been my week. Cathy, an amazing conclusion to your soaked cellar episode & a welcome one – with the insurance company to pick up the tab. Was it just a bad joint in the pipe that was causing the problem? With leaking roofs in London & Portugal making a formative part of our own experience, we empathise in your troubles. I note that Anita is now off to her own French family. Oh but they grow up so fast! Makes me recall – I’m not sure why – the mob of shriekies who spent the whole of yesterday clustered outside the BBC gates, keening every time they thought they glimpsed some boy pop star. Throughout the day, their shrill wailing filled the corridors. They were still determinedly clustered there when I left yest, the victims of some exploding female hormone. Must be utterly terrifying to be the object of their attentions.
Thank you too Jones for your Quintassential accounts. However unseasonable & disruptive the rain showers, the garden will have been glad of them. Warming fires in mid-May do sound slightly ridiculous. According to the CNN weather forecast, you are due for partly cloudy conditions all week with temps rising several degrees over the next few days from current lows of 12 / highs of 20. I note the successful departure of Lo & that Piet is back on the job. Please pass my thanks on to him. There are deck chairs on sale in Swiss cottage. I plan to bring some down with me in June unless you advise me otherwise.
16May1997
My dear folks,
Forgive my silence. It’s been a working silence, sort of. One of my flat owners, Geoff, came around yest. p.m. for a session that ended up over rather a pleasant supper with a third person from the house in which he has an interest. Geoff also has an interest in wines & ordered a couple of bottles of something special (one at a time) of which I probably had one glass more than was wise. Given my recent abstention, I think I’ll make that “definitely” one glass more than was wise. So I’m blinking ever so slightly this a.m. as I await a knock on the door from cousins Judy & Morna with whom I’m going off to downtown Maida Vale for brunch. I’m not suffering or anything; don’t get me wrong. I just feel as though a couple of hours more sleep would be rather nice.
I rang one of the Online chiefs yest. to ask if there was any point in my going to speak to him & he said yes. So I made an arrangement to see him at midday. I’ve not yet given up hope of joining Online entirely but I’m disinclined to invest any thing more in the project if I’m going to be wasting my time. I had a quiet word a couple of days ago with another senior bod who said: a) don’t quote me, and: b) that there are bits of the BBC where the people who sit on boards tend to rule out candidates over 50, confirming my own suspicions of the likely circumstances of the case. As one of your less politically correct members of society, I am deeply suspicious of most “isms”. So maybe the gods of ageism are taking their revenge. It’s funny how the years creep up on us, something that mother has probably been reflecting as well.
Thank you Jones & Cathy for your faxes. Cathy I rejoice with you in the good news about the comparatively inexpensive repair of your leaking basement walls. And Jones I’m pleased at the prospect of a week at the Quinta in June. It came about because the rota lady moved me to another team, inadvertently giving me a series of additional night shifts. She apologised when I pointed this out (ever so politely) and I asked whether I couldn’t take the last two nights as leave. It’s given me an unexpected & welcome week off.
Cathy, thank you also for the envelope bearing my old letters which popped through the door earlier in the week. I took a look at a couple of them & was taken aback by the mixture of impenetrable politics & turgid prose. “Holy Smoke!” I thought, “did I write that rubbish?” And I wondered whether you had read it (because it was virtually unreadable) & what you must have thought if you had. I’m surprised the letters didn’t end up on the fire. Truly, our sins come back to haunt us. I’ll take a closer look at the others when I get a moment, if only for the lessons I should learn.
Am working from midday today & full day-shifts (7 to 7) over the weekend.
Forgive my silence. It’s been a working silence, sort of. One of my flat owners, Geoff, came around yest. p.m. for a session that ended up over rather a pleasant supper with a third person from the house in which he has an interest. Geoff also has an interest in wines & ordered a couple of bottles of something special (one at a time) of which I probably had one glass more than was wise. Given my recent abstention, I think I’ll make that “definitely” one glass more than was wise. So I’m blinking ever so slightly this a.m. as I await a knock on the door from cousins Judy & Morna with whom I’m going off to downtown Maida Vale for brunch. I’m not suffering or anything; don’t get me wrong. I just feel as though a couple of hours more sleep would be rather nice.
I rang one of the Online chiefs yest. to ask if there was any point in my going to speak to him & he said yes. So I made an arrangement to see him at midday. I’ve not yet given up hope of joining Online entirely but I’m disinclined to invest any thing more in the project if I’m going to be wasting my time. I had a quiet word a couple of days ago with another senior bod who said: a) don’t quote me, and: b) that there are bits of the BBC where the people who sit on boards tend to rule out candidates over 50, confirming my own suspicions of the likely circumstances of the case. As one of your less politically correct members of society, I am deeply suspicious of most “isms”. So maybe the gods of ageism are taking their revenge. It’s funny how the years creep up on us, something that mother has probably been reflecting as well.
Thank you Jones & Cathy for your faxes. Cathy I rejoice with you in the good news about the comparatively inexpensive repair of your leaking basement walls. And Jones I’m pleased at the prospect of a week at the Quinta in June. It came about because the rota lady moved me to another team, inadvertently giving me a series of additional night shifts. She apologised when I pointed this out (ever so politely) and I asked whether I couldn’t take the last two nights as leave. It’s given me an unexpected & welcome week off.
Cathy, thank you also for the envelope bearing my old letters which popped through the door earlier in the week. I took a look at a couple of them & was taken aback by the mixture of impenetrable politics & turgid prose. “Holy Smoke!” I thought, “did I write that rubbish?” And I wondered whether you had read it (because it was virtually unreadable) & what you must have thought if you had. I’m surprised the letters didn’t end up on the fire. Truly, our sins come back to haunt us. I’ll take a closer look at the others when I get a moment, if only for the lessons I should learn.
Am working from midday today & full day-shifts (7 to 7) over the weekend.
12May1997
12 May 97
My dear folks
I started the day with the firm intention of doing a number of pressing chores, none of which has been accomplished. Even so I have been very busy & have chalked up several small victories as well as some mini defeats. I set out on my bicycle through the showers early in the day for Tottenham Court Road to obtain some extra back-up tapes for my computer as well as a couple of items of software I wanted. These required much searching out but I eventually secured them all & returned through further showers clutching my booty.
One item of software proved a winner. I’d already tried a demo version & been much impressed. The second, acquired on the advice of the salesman, proved a £40 flop. So I phoned the shop in high dudgeon to register my dismay. The salesman, to his credit, merely invited me to exchange the product for another. Out with the bike again & back into town through further showers. You’ll be getting the drift! In short, the later product is exactly what I wanted & already Dan (the brand name of the new computer) is staggering under a shelf-load of applications & utilities that I’ve been installing all weekend. Okay, that’s quite enough of computers for today. You can take as read the usual stops at the health food shop, fruit shop & bank.
I’m racking my brains to see what else I can put to my credit but can only come up with a few miserly phone calls & a minor tidy up. Not a lot of souls out of purgatory today – not on my account at least. You’ll have gathered that it’s been a rhythmic melody of sunshine & showers – with more in store. (Judging by the clouds over Portugal, you’ll have had much of the same Jones. [Thank you for your fax & your news])
It was the same story when I went walking with cousin Judy at Cliveden yest. We did a long tour of the property (down the river & back through the woods) thrusting the golf umbrella in the face of the occasional squalls & talking of weighty things. Down the bottom of the property we discovered a parking lot where visitors were charged a mere £2 a head as opposed to the £4.50 imposed on us at the main entrance (1km away). In future, we decided, we’d park & walk to the house & spend our savings at the tea-room. It’s a super tea room where we spent our money anyhow. Indeed we were its first clients of the day. We both of us needed the outing & the exercise & returned rather the better for wear.
Herman invited me down to the basement in the evening for a drink & a chat. His partner, Stef, had suggested that her folks from Italy might stay in our flat in July while I’m away – & wondered what I might charge for this service. I readily agreed and named a fee. Stef found my proposed charge steep but descended into blushes & stammers (so to speak) when I asked her how much she thought was appropriate. She confessed herself to be a bad negotiator. Herman promptly halved the proposed amount & I agreed immediately. That threw Stef into another confusion lest I was now undercharging her – while Herman & I sealed the agreement with another glass of excellent Budweiser beer (the Czech original, not the American take off!)
You will note that we did not seal it with champagne – for such a seal on the deal between former ministers Hague & Howard over the so-called dream team for the Tory leadership didn’t last the night. The two gentlemen were noticed to be taking great pains to avoid each other at the most recent Tory gathering. Quite fascinating to watch. But sufficient unto the day.
Blessings
T
My dear folks
I started the day with the firm intention of doing a number of pressing chores, none of which has been accomplished. Even so I have been very busy & have chalked up several small victories as well as some mini defeats. I set out on my bicycle through the showers early in the day for Tottenham Court Road to obtain some extra back-up tapes for my computer as well as a couple of items of software I wanted. These required much searching out but I eventually secured them all & returned through further showers clutching my booty.
One item of software proved a winner. I’d already tried a demo version & been much impressed. The second, acquired on the advice of the salesman, proved a £40 flop. So I phoned the shop in high dudgeon to register my dismay. The salesman, to his credit, merely invited me to exchange the product for another. Out with the bike again & back into town through further showers. You’ll be getting the drift! In short, the later product is exactly what I wanted & already Dan (the brand name of the new computer) is staggering under a shelf-load of applications & utilities that I’ve been installing all weekend. Okay, that’s quite enough of computers for today. You can take as read the usual stops at the health food shop, fruit shop & bank.
I’m racking my brains to see what else I can put to my credit but can only come up with a few miserly phone calls & a minor tidy up. Not a lot of souls out of purgatory today – not on my account at least. You’ll have gathered that it’s been a rhythmic melody of sunshine & showers – with more in store. (Judging by the clouds over Portugal, you’ll have had much of the same Jones. [Thank you for your fax & your news])
It was the same story when I went walking with cousin Judy at Cliveden yest. We did a long tour of the property (down the river & back through the woods) thrusting the golf umbrella in the face of the occasional squalls & talking of weighty things. Down the bottom of the property we discovered a parking lot where visitors were charged a mere £2 a head as opposed to the £4.50 imposed on us at the main entrance (1km away). In future, we decided, we’d park & walk to the house & spend our savings at the tea-room. It’s a super tea room where we spent our money anyhow. Indeed we were its first clients of the day. We both of us needed the outing & the exercise & returned rather the better for wear.
Herman invited me down to the basement in the evening for a drink & a chat. His partner, Stef, had suggested that her folks from Italy might stay in our flat in July while I’m away – & wondered what I might charge for this service. I readily agreed and named a fee. Stef found my proposed charge steep but descended into blushes & stammers (so to speak) when I asked her how much she thought was appropriate. She confessed herself to be a bad negotiator. Herman promptly halved the proposed amount & I agreed immediately. That threw Stef into another confusion lest I was now undercharging her – while Herman & I sealed the agreement with another glass of excellent Budweiser beer (the Czech original, not the American take off!)
You will note that we did not seal it with champagne – for such a seal on the deal between former ministers Hague & Howard over the so-called dream team for the Tory leadership didn’t last the night. The two gentlemen were noticed to be taking great pains to avoid each other at the most recent Tory gathering. Quite fascinating to watch. But sufficient unto the day.
Blessings
T
10May1997
10 May 1997
My dear folks,
The safest way of starting a letter or a conversation is often the weather. So let me tell you that it’s a showery Saturday afternoon. The window panes are spattered with evidence of the last shower & grey clouds overhead are promising us the next one shortly. As I type, Manuel is busy playing his Music of the Mountains through the sound system that has come with my new computer. Jones asked if I expected to buy any more computers & all I could tell her was not for a while. Certainly, this one ought to see the millennium in. It’s a very beautiful computer the finer points of which you probably don’t want to know about. So let me tell you only that it comes with a 17” screen (that’s big), 3 glorious Yamaha speakers, (& for the nerds, 200MMX CPU, a 5.2 gig hard disk & 32mb of Ram). It’s not quite up to challenging Garry Kasparov but we’re getting there.
It was due for delivery on Monday but as it was ready yest. I drove out to Dan (15 mins away) to pick it up. It took me 12 hours to transfer data off my old one before its buyer arrived to fetch it mid-morning. And I needed them all. The flat was a tip of cardboard boxes & wires (eight plugs requiring sockets), to say nothing of files & clothes & everything else that needed moving for the occasion. Mavis promptly jumped up on to a box & adopted his “don’t look at me” pose. There was much crawling around under the desk while I removed the old model to the dining room (for the purchaser to inspect) & set up the new. I had to appeal to the Dan telephone helpline to set up the speakers. There were simply more wires & sockets than I could make sense of. The accompanying diagrams & pigeon English instructions were classic. There was also a missing link, as it turned out, which Dan promised to post. I got one from a specialist shop for a couple of quid this a.m. It was worth the effort. The sound system is a joy.
The early hours were upon me before I had installed & configured all the software required to connect with my Internet Service Provider & managed to download my email. I left the machine backing up all the files overnight. I was hard at it again this a.m. as I remembered I’d forgotten to transfer fax, email & Internet files. The buyer arrived late with a “computer expert” friend & both were much impressed with what they were getting. It’s nice when buyer & seller both feel they’ve got a square deal. I barely managed to get the flat into passable order by the time they turned up. It was one of those situations with so many things scattered about that every time I started to clear something up, I saw something else that needed doing more urgently.
So that’s the good news, especially as I don’t have to face the bill for another month. The bad news is that I didn’t get the attachment I wanted to Online. The news arrived by way of a telephone message while I slept after a night shift. It did not please me at all & I accepted the invitation to phone the personnel lady concerned to enquire further. I was told that my experience was too “international” for the small team that is to begin with British news. I wasn’t much impressed & asked what qualities the successful candidates had shown which I’d lacked. The personnel lady spent 5 mins saying it had been a hard decision & talking about the balance of the team before admitting that she was waffling hopelessly & suggesting that I try again when the section is expanded to take in world news. We’ll see.
Having got that out of the way, I set about trying to get down to Portugal at the end of the month. But the weekend concerned turned out to be a Bank Holiday weekend with only Club Class tickets left & those only to Lisbon or Seville. I declined, as much on principle as financial grounds, as I cannot bear the thought of forking out an additional £150 merely for the privilege of going on board first & being offered an extra drink.
And that’s all you get for your money, unless you value having a curtain between you & the plebs. Jones was disappointed too & confessed that she had to go outside & attack a patch of weeds quite mercilessly to get over the news. I’m now into the negotiations which may make a June trip possible. I’ve already got one booked for July. Oh for a little lottery win tonight. It would be so timely.
That’s more or less the story of my week. It omits 5 twelve-hour night shifts that took up the rest of my time, those & trying to sleep during the day. They were okay shifts during which I managed to get a number of packages done (I now get feedback from both Canada & Portugal); also, our unfavourite presenter has mercifully gone down with some illness which we all fervently hope will persist for the rest of her life. She has developed the knack of making herself loathed into a fine art. The weather turned cold which helped the sleeping. In fact, there was sleet across much of London & yesterday brought a light hail shower rattling the study window. I was alarmed for the new flowers I’d put in, to say nothing of the old ones. The shower was brief & the damage slight.
I had one of my occasional alcohol free hangovers at work two nights ago. Had to sluk a couple of killer pills & go & line down for a while to let it pass. They seem to be a product of insane sleeping patterns. I thought how long it had been since I’d had a real hangover….months & months ago. There are real benefits to being on the wagon, even if one does get down from it to stretch ones legs once in a while. Exactly 85 kgs the scale said this a.m. I’m still aiming at 80 but I confess that I’m starting to relax a little.
I’ve spoken to Cathy (who’s miffed because unexpected work commitments have upset Rolf’s plans for July in Canada) & to Jones who’s been busy with the thousand things that always need doing. (A call there Jones from Lynn & Bill to saying they’re flying down to the Quinta on June 17 [usual TAP flight] for a week, as arranged.) Thank you Mum for your fax earlier in the week. (Mother, “prandial” derives from “prandium”, Latin for a meal & commonly refers to dinner or lunch – says my OED – promptly installed on the new computer. Hence, post prandial = after lunch, typically a nap or walk.) Once I’ve sorted out the piles of paper work littering the bed, I shall read it again & the rest of the recent correspondence over a leisurely cup of coffee.
The rain is with us again. I’m not displeased. We need it badly. It forced me to jump on to a bus as I walking down to Edgware Road this a.m. for the speaker lead. Cost me 60p for 3 stops, which I resented. I can see that Jones values are starting to impinge, not before time. I did walk home again though, with a stop at the health shop for a loaf of their excellent 3-seeds bread. Now I have a further two days to sort out the flat & my files & for that I’m very grateful. I was reflecting on life’s little ups & downs this a.m. when I saw a guy travelling down the pavement on a skateboard. He’d lost both legs above the knee. He grasped the skateboard with two hands, rested one stump on the board & used his other stump to propel himself. It worked quite well although he found the pavements a bit of a bugger. I guess it’s all relative.
Thinking of you.
Lots of love
T
My dear folks,
The safest way of starting a letter or a conversation is often the weather. So let me tell you that it’s a showery Saturday afternoon. The window panes are spattered with evidence of the last shower & grey clouds overhead are promising us the next one shortly. As I type, Manuel is busy playing his Music of the Mountains through the sound system that has come with my new computer. Jones asked if I expected to buy any more computers & all I could tell her was not for a while. Certainly, this one ought to see the millennium in. It’s a very beautiful computer the finer points of which you probably don’t want to know about. So let me tell you only that it comes with a 17” screen (that’s big), 3 glorious Yamaha speakers, (& for the nerds, 200MMX CPU, a 5.2 gig hard disk & 32mb of Ram). It’s not quite up to challenging Garry Kasparov but we’re getting there.
It was due for delivery on Monday but as it was ready yest. I drove out to Dan (15 mins away) to pick it up. It took me 12 hours to transfer data off my old one before its buyer arrived to fetch it mid-morning. And I needed them all. The flat was a tip of cardboard boxes & wires (eight plugs requiring sockets), to say nothing of files & clothes & everything else that needed moving for the occasion. Mavis promptly jumped up on to a box & adopted his “don’t look at me” pose. There was much crawling around under the desk while I removed the old model to the dining room (for the purchaser to inspect) & set up the new. I had to appeal to the Dan telephone helpline to set up the speakers. There were simply more wires & sockets than I could make sense of. The accompanying diagrams & pigeon English instructions were classic. There was also a missing link, as it turned out, which Dan promised to post. I got one from a specialist shop for a couple of quid this a.m. It was worth the effort. The sound system is a joy.
The early hours were upon me before I had installed & configured all the software required to connect with my Internet Service Provider & managed to download my email. I left the machine backing up all the files overnight. I was hard at it again this a.m. as I remembered I’d forgotten to transfer fax, email & Internet files. The buyer arrived late with a “computer expert” friend & both were much impressed with what they were getting. It’s nice when buyer & seller both feel they’ve got a square deal. I barely managed to get the flat into passable order by the time they turned up. It was one of those situations with so many things scattered about that every time I started to clear something up, I saw something else that needed doing more urgently.
So that’s the good news, especially as I don’t have to face the bill for another month. The bad news is that I didn’t get the attachment I wanted to Online. The news arrived by way of a telephone message while I slept after a night shift. It did not please me at all & I accepted the invitation to phone the personnel lady concerned to enquire further. I was told that my experience was too “international” for the small team that is to begin with British news. I wasn’t much impressed & asked what qualities the successful candidates had shown which I’d lacked. The personnel lady spent 5 mins saying it had been a hard decision & talking about the balance of the team before admitting that she was waffling hopelessly & suggesting that I try again when the section is expanded to take in world news. We’ll see.
Having got that out of the way, I set about trying to get down to Portugal at the end of the month. But the weekend concerned turned out to be a Bank Holiday weekend with only Club Class tickets left & those only to Lisbon or Seville. I declined, as much on principle as financial grounds, as I cannot bear the thought of forking out an additional £150 merely for the privilege of going on board first & being offered an extra drink.
And that’s all you get for your money, unless you value having a curtain between you & the plebs. Jones was disappointed too & confessed that she had to go outside & attack a patch of weeds quite mercilessly to get over the news. I’m now into the negotiations which may make a June trip possible. I’ve already got one booked for July. Oh for a little lottery win tonight. It would be so timely.
That’s more or less the story of my week. It omits 5 twelve-hour night shifts that took up the rest of my time, those & trying to sleep during the day. They were okay shifts during which I managed to get a number of packages done (I now get feedback from both Canada & Portugal); also, our unfavourite presenter has mercifully gone down with some illness which we all fervently hope will persist for the rest of her life. She has developed the knack of making herself loathed into a fine art. The weather turned cold which helped the sleeping. In fact, there was sleet across much of London & yesterday brought a light hail shower rattling the study window. I was alarmed for the new flowers I’d put in, to say nothing of the old ones. The shower was brief & the damage slight.
I had one of my occasional alcohol free hangovers at work two nights ago. Had to sluk a couple of killer pills & go & line down for a while to let it pass. They seem to be a product of insane sleeping patterns. I thought how long it had been since I’d had a real hangover….months & months ago. There are real benefits to being on the wagon, even if one does get down from it to stretch ones legs once in a while. Exactly 85 kgs the scale said this a.m. I’m still aiming at 80 but I confess that I’m starting to relax a little.
I’ve spoken to Cathy (who’s miffed because unexpected work commitments have upset Rolf’s plans for July in Canada) & to Jones who’s been busy with the thousand things that always need doing. (A call there Jones from Lynn & Bill to saying they’re flying down to the Quinta on June 17 [usual TAP flight] for a week, as arranged.) Thank you Mum for your fax earlier in the week. (Mother, “prandial” derives from “prandium”, Latin for a meal & commonly refers to dinner or lunch – says my OED – promptly installed on the new computer. Hence, post prandial = after lunch, typically a nap or walk.) Once I’ve sorted out the piles of paper work littering the bed, I shall read it again & the rest of the recent correspondence over a leisurely cup of coffee.
The rain is with us again. I’m not displeased. We need it badly. It forced me to jump on to a bus as I walking down to Edgware Road this a.m. for the speaker lead. Cost me 60p for 3 stops, which I resented. I can see that Jones values are starting to impinge, not before time. I did walk home again though, with a stop at the health shop for a loaf of their excellent 3-seeds bread. Now I have a further two days to sort out the flat & my files & for that I’m very grateful. I was reflecting on life’s little ups & downs this a.m. when I saw a guy travelling down the pavement on a skateboard. He’d lost both legs above the knee. He grasped the skateboard with two hands, rested one stump on the board & used his other stump to propel himself. It worked quite well although he found the pavements a bit of a bugger. I guess it’s all relative.
Thinking of you.
Lots of love
T
6May1997
6 May 1997
My dear folks,
Sun & showers & spring temps. They’re welcome all. I stuck a hottie under my back when I went to bed last night & another between my feet. Slept like a bird till 0700 when Mavis popped up to invite me to serve breakfast, his i.e.. After some strong coffee, I spent a couple of hours reviewing developments in my latest computer mags & making notes before cycling down to White City (200m from TV Centre) for an interview re News Online. It went okay. There were just two bods there, from personnel & from Online (I knew the latter). I did most of the talking about the project as I saw it & the way ahead. ‘Twas all very informal. Now we’ll see. All that’s at stake at this stage is an attachment….no promotion or permanent job.
I have to rack my brains to remember what happened to yesterday; it seems so far away. I finished the last of 3 overnight shifts at 0800 & returned to the multi-storey car park with a colleague whom I occasionally drop off – to find the Rocket with a flat tyre, the 1st I can recall in its 17 year history. There are bad times to get flats & worse ones. I didn’t need it at the end of a shift. Still, these things happen. Colleague (a Canadian girl who lives around the corner) hung around while I dumped the contents of the boot on the ground, dug out the spare & did the necessary. Back into the boot went all the junk & home I came to sleep. Mave was waiting in the hall where he’d elected to spend the night. I was zapped. In the afternoon I went for my usual trot but found both the health food shop & greengrocer closed. Monday Bank holiday! Cullens had to do.
In the evening I drove over to Islington for supper with Penny & Richard. He is working flat out in his high-powered ICI job. I took a look at his computer files. The amount of email flying around ICI is scary. Hundreds of messages were lined up awaiting attention under all kinds of headings. In his shoes I think I’d be tempted just to pretend they weren’t there & play patience instead. Penny prepared the starter with the kind of dramatic utterances she’s liable too when the salad won’t lie down or oil heats up too fast. Delicious of course! So were the lamb goodies that Richard followed up with (sorry Anita) & the desert from Penny (more utterances when it didn’t look or behave the way she’d expected). She’s working hard towards the conclusion of an academic course. I took a glass or wine or two as it would have been churlish to refuse, especially such a fine wine as Richard offered. Otherwise, I remained on the straight & narrow. I’ve hit a plateau at 85/86 kgs which I have to break through. My BP seems to be back to normal…hallelujah!
Hats off to the new chancellor, Gordon Brown. After a little post prandial nap, Mave & I awoke to news that Mr Brown had given the Bank of England control of interest rates – in effect, making it an independent central bank. In spite of the enviable records set by the German & US central banks, Britain’s politicians have until now held on to the reins themselves (in the name of parliament), often for narrow political purposes. Today’s announcement came as a complete surprise. It wasn’t part of the Labour manifesto. If the new government carries on this like, I could get to like it. I was delighted too to see Labour’s man arrive in Brussels with the declared intention of working with Britain’s European partners rather than frustrating them. I’d become heartily sick of the xenophobic rantings & flag waving of the previous lot, protesting about the sovereignty of the pound. There’s wasn’t much sovereignty evident when George Soros was stripping it naked & Norman Lamont was wetting his Chancellor’s pants in the City. It was an episode that cost me dear & there was none more pleased than I to see ousted MP Mr Lamont looking for a new job last Friday.
The Conservatives are in the throes of their own campaign to elect a new leader. It’s looking messy. The only one of my Tory “nasties” to retain his seat, Michael Howard, is among the runners. I half hope he wins. He’s such a thoroughly repulsive character that he’ll bury the party for good & all.
Lots of publicity here about the huge losses suffered by the Canadian mining co. Bre-X as a result of the scam around the so-called Borneo discovery. We had pix of angry investors & of the Bre-x chairman rushing to escape the horsefly media. I thought he might be sharing my Canadian brother’s dislike of journalists, given the outrage of his denuded shareholders & the difficulty of explaining who perpetrated the “salting” fraud of the century. Hoo boy! The guys who creamed it must be chortling over their champagne in the Bahamas. Talk about the South Sea bubble.
Since we’re on things Canadian, let me express my pleasure in receiving your lengthy fax Ann. I’d feared that you’d long since succumbed to writer’s cramp. All the greater delight then in catching up on your lives. I’m grateful for your guidance on the wedding (why didn’t Penny just wear the dress back from Chicago & avoid paying any duty on it?) I’ll let you know that I still possess several suits from my correspondent’s days. Not only do I possess them, the chances are that I could just about get into them again. They’ve been mouldering up in the cupboard these last 10 years. I’ll see if I can find a guide on the Internet on dinner dance etiquette. Lord knows when I last attended one of those. Which foot does one put forward? Good luck for Alan’s matric & Mark’s theatre diploma course. Sounds like your racing drivers could use a little luck as well. My own memories of Australia echo your reflections. Somehow I liked Canada much more.
My dear Jones, I hope the French are now reconciled to their move. The election & subsequent budget have forced Tim Franks to cancel his July booking. I’ve re-advertised & told him that we should be able to fill the vacancy. No progress yet on my own attempts to get down at the end of May. I’ve left several messages to which I may find some response when I return to work tomorrow night. Work Wed/Thur nights & am then off until Tuesday. The forecasts showed huge showers moving your way. I guess you’ve had a wet day. (Sun has come out here for the evening & the wind has gone away!) A colleague has asked to buy my “old” computer. He’s due around to inspect it on Saturday. With any luck I’ll get the new one on Monday.
Cath, you have been a busy little bee. I was glad to hear better news of Rolf’s job & to catch up with your growing up daughters. Don’t let them grow up too fast, Mavis wouldn’t be pleased. Ouch for Anita’s finger. How on earth did she get it caught in the bread machine? And is it better yet. Gives me the wobbleys in the gobbleys. Hope your dental problem has been sorted out.
Since I began this letter, I’ve taken the car around to Kwikfit & had the puncture repaired. There was a great big wicked nail through it. They didn’t even charge me. I gave the bod who fixed it a healthy tip & brought the car home via the health food shop. I confess that there was a small loaf of fruit bread in the car when I left the shop that wasn’t there when I got home. I was ravenous. The fridge is stuffed full of Mr Sainsbury’s best micro-wavables – as I stopped over there on my way back from the Beeb this p.m. I settled down in the TV chair at 0200 to listen to the World News & woke exactly an hour later feeling refreshed. Mave must have been pretty refreshed as well.
My dear folks,
Sun & showers & spring temps. They’re welcome all. I stuck a hottie under my back when I went to bed last night & another between my feet. Slept like a bird till 0700 when Mavis popped up to invite me to serve breakfast, his i.e.. After some strong coffee, I spent a couple of hours reviewing developments in my latest computer mags & making notes before cycling down to White City (200m from TV Centre) for an interview re News Online. It went okay. There were just two bods there, from personnel & from Online (I knew the latter). I did most of the talking about the project as I saw it & the way ahead. ‘Twas all very informal. Now we’ll see. All that’s at stake at this stage is an attachment….no promotion or permanent job.
I have to rack my brains to remember what happened to yesterday; it seems so far away. I finished the last of 3 overnight shifts at 0800 & returned to the multi-storey car park with a colleague whom I occasionally drop off – to find the Rocket with a flat tyre, the 1st I can recall in its 17 year history. There are bad times to get flats & worse ones. I didn’t need it at the end of a shift. Still, these things happen. Colleague (a Canadian girl who lives around the corner) hung around while I dumped the contents of the boot on the ground, dug out the spare & did the necessary. Back into the boot went all the junk & home I came to sleep. Mave was waiting in the hall where he’d elected to spend the night. I was zapped. In the afternoon I went for my usual trot but found both the health food shop & greengrocer closed. Monday Bank holiday! Cullens had to do.
In the evening I drove over to Islington for supper with Penny & Richard. He is working flat out in his high-powered ICI job. I took a look at his computer files. The amount of email flying around ICI is scary. Hundreds of messages were lined up awaiting attention under all kinds of headings. In his shoes I think I’d be tempted just to pretend they weren’t there & play patience instead. Penny prepared the starter with the kind of dramatic utterances she’s liable too when the salad won’t lie down or oil heats up too fast. Delicious of course! So were the lamb goodies that Richard followed up with (sorry Anita) & the desert from Penny (more utterances when it didn’t look or behave the way she’d expected). She’s working hard towards the conclusion of an academic course. I took a glass or wine or two as it would have been churlish to refuse, especially such a fine wine as Richard offered. Otherwise, I remained on the straight & narrow. I’ve hit a plateau at 85/86 kgs which I have to break through. My BP seems to be back to normal…hallelujah!
Hats off to the new chancellor, Gordon Brown. After a little post prandial nap, Mave & I awoke to news that Mr Brown had given the Bank of England control of interest rates – in effect, making it an independent central bank. In spite of the enviable records set by the German & US central banks, Britain’s politicians have until now held on to the reins themselves (in the name of parliament), often for narrow political purposes. Today’s announcement came as a complete surprise. It wasn’t part of the Labour manifesto. If the new government carries on this like, I could get to like it. I was delighted too to see Labour’s man arrive in Brussels with the declared intention of working with Britain’s European partners rather than frustrating them. I’d become heartily sick of the xenophobic rantings & flag waving of the previous lot, protesting about the sovereignty of the pound. There’s wasn’t much sovereignty evident when George Soros was stripping it naked & Norman Lamont was wetting his Chancellor’s pants in the City. It was an episode that cost me dear & there was none more pleased than I to see ousted MP Mr Lamont looking for a new job last Friday.
The Conservatives are in the throes of their own campaign to elect a new leader. It’s looking messy. The only one of my Tory “nasties” to retain his seat, Michael Howard, is among the runners. I half hope he wins. He’s such a thoroughly repulsive character that he’ll bury the party for good & all.
Lots of publicity here about the huge losses suffered by the Canadian mining co. Bre-X as a result of the scam around the so-called Borneo discovery. We had pix of angry investors & of the Bre-x chairman rushing to escape the horsefly media. I thought he might be sharing my Canadian brother’s dislike of journalists, given the outrage of his denuded shareholders & the difficulty of explaining who perpetrated the “salting” fraud of the century. Hoo boy! The guys who creamed it must be chortling over their champagne in the Bahamas. Talk about the South Sea bubble.
Since we’re on things Canadian, let me express my pleasure in receiving your lengthy fax Ann. I’d feared that you’d long since succumbed to writer’s cramp. All the greater delight then in catching up on your lives. I’m grateful for your guidance on the wedding (why didn’t Penny just wear the dress back from Chicago & avoid paying any duty on it?) I’ll let you know that I still possess several suits from my correspondent’s days. Not only do I possess them, the chances are that I could just about get into them again. They’ve been mouldering up in the cupboard these last 10 years. I’ll see if I can find a guide on the Internet on dinner dance etiquette. Lord knows when I last attended one of those. Which foot does one put forward? Good luck for Alan’s matric & Mark’s theatre diploma course. Sounds like your racing drivers could use a little luck as well. My own memories of Australia echo your reflections. Somehow I liked Canada much more.
My dear Jones, I hope the French are now reconciled to their move. The election & subsequent budget have forced Tim Franks to cancel his July booking. I’ve re-advertised & told him that we should be able to fill the vacancy. No progress yet on my own attempts to get down at the end of May. I’ve left several messages to which I may find some response when I return to work tomorrow night. Work Wed/Thur nights & am then off until Tuesday. The forecasts showed huge showers moving your way. I guess you’ve had a wet day. (Sun has come out here for the evening & the wind has gone away!) A colleague has asked to buy my “old” computer. He’s due around to inspect it on Saturday. With any luck I’ll get the new one on Monday.
Cath, you have been a busy little bee. I was glad to hear better news of Rolf’s job & to catch up with your growing up daughters. Don’t let them grow up too fast, Mavis wouldn’t be pleased. Ouch for Anita’s finger. How on earth did she get it caught in the bread machine? And is it better yet. Gives me the wobbleys in the gobbleys. Hope your dental problem has been sorted out.
Since I began this letter, I’ve taken the car around to Kwikfit & had the puncture repaired. There was a great big wicked nail through it. They didn’t even charge me. I gave the bod who fixed it a healthy tip & brought the car home via the health food shop. I confess that there was a small loaf of fruit bread in the car when I left the shop that wasn’t there when I got home. I was ravenous. The fridge is stuffed full of Mr Sainsbury’s best micro-wavables – as I stopped over there on my way back from the Beeb this p.m. I settled down in the TV chair at 0200 to listen to the World News & woke exactly an hour later feeling refreshed. Mave must have been pretty refreshed as well.
1May1997
My dear folks,
Wot a scorcher! The hottest day of the year, we’re told & I don’t doubt it for a moment. I delved into the eaves to find a fan which is nodding back & forth in the corner of the study, bringing some relief. My day waited on the washing machine repair man who failed to turn up early as promised to fix a problem in the ground floor flat. When he did, it was to discover that the company had provided him with the wrong replacement part. Fortunately, he had the necessary part in the van & was able to mend the machine. The bad news was that he’d failed to put sufficient cash in the parking meter over the road to last the distance. He saw a meter man coming & rushed out to feed the meter, only to get done for “feeding”. He wasn’t a happy repair man. He reckoned that meter people’s parents weren’t married.
There’s a problem with the plumbing too but my fixer didn’t think he could get a plumber until the morning. So I took the car up to Kilburn (cursing the traffic) to look for a table to extend my desk which has become congested beyond endurance (with the fax, computer tower, keyboard, monitor, speakers, printer & scanner). I wanted something portable & extendable as well as inexpensive. An hour of tramping the pavements led me to think that the exercise was futile. What was available ran into three figures. It was at a second hand furniture shop that I chanced on an ancient fold-up table with a holey baize cover that was going for a tenner. I carted it off in triumph. It’s been dusted down & is already earning its keep.
Back home to find my neighbour about to walk her dog & to learn that the plumber had called in my absence & departed in a bad humour when he couldn’t get in. Hasty phone calls found him within reach & brought him back. He did some puzzling & concluded that the system should never have worked at all, it was such a mess. He’s to return tomorrow to try to do something about it. Said he comes from Kent but has to travel to London to find work – and that most of it is putting right the cock ups wrought by London cowboys. Rings true enough.
I must confess that I have finally settled on a new desktop computer. After months of studying magazine comparisons, visits to showrooms, quotes & telephone conversations about options, I have ordered a fairly potent desktop model with some useful bells & whistles, not to mention a hard disk capable of putting away a London bus. The decision required a lot of examination of conscience, with Jones’s “do you need it?” whispering in my ears. I’m not sure that I do. I can certainly get by with what I’ve got. Yet, even though it’s been heavily upgraded in the 27 months since I bought it, it no longer even meets “entry grade” specifications. I’m in two minds about whether to hang on to my current model or flog it. The industry has reached the stage where a week away from the latest developments means that you’re a week out of date. Kinda scary!
Still a couple of hours before the polls close. It’s going to be an interesting night! There was a trickle of voters when I went around mid morning to vote at the school round the corner. As I write, I’ve half an eye on the most awful pictures of dying refugee children in Zaire. The correspondent says these are the acceptable pictures; those of starving children being eaten alive by maggots are untransmissible. One bit of me says that human history is the history of misery & that’s just the way it is. Another bit asks me why I’m buying new computers. I don’t know. Makes me very grateful for loving wife and family.
I count my blessings.
T
Wot a scorcher! The hottest day of the year, we’re told & I don’t doubt it for a moment. I delved into the eaves to find a fan which is nodding back & forth in the corner of the study, bringing some relief. My day waited on the washing machine repair man who failed to turn up early as promised to fix a problem in the ground floor flat. When he did, it was to discover that the company had provided him with the wrong replacement part. Fortunately, he had the necessary part in the van & was able to mend the machine. The bad news was that he’d failed to put sufficient cash in the parking meter over the road to last the distance. He saw a meter man coming & rushed out to feed the meter, only to get done for “feeding”. He wasn’t a happy repair man. He reckoned that meter people’s parents weren’t married.
There’s a problem with the plumbing too but my fixer didn’t think he could get a plumber until the morning. So I took the car up to Kilburn (cursing the traffic) to look for a table to extend my desk which has become congested beyond endurance (with the fax, computer tower, keyboard, monitor, speakers, printer & scanner). I wanted something portable & extendable as well as inexpensive. An hour of tramping the pavements led me to think that the exercise was futile. What was available ran into three figures. It was at a second hand furniture shop that I chanced on an ancient fold-up table with a holey baize cover that was going for a tenner. I carted it off in triumph. It’s been dusted down & is already earning its keep.
Back home to find my neighbour about to walk her dog & to learn that the plumber had called in my absence & departed in a bad humour when he couldn’t get in. Hasty phone calls found him within reach & brought him back. He did some puzzling & concluded that the system should never have worked at all, it was such a mess. He’s to return tomorrow to try to do something about it. Said he comes from Kent but has to travel to London to find work – and that most of it is putting right the cock ups wrought by London cowboys. Rings true enough.
I must confess that I have finally settled on a new desktop computer. After months of studying magazine comparisons, visits to showrooms, quotes & telephone conversations about options, I have ordered a fairly potent desktop model with some useful bells & whistles, not to mention a hard disk capable of putting away a London bus. The decision required a lot of examination of conscience, with Jones’s “do you need it?” whispering in my ears. I’m not sure that I do. I can certainly get by with what I’ve got. Yet, even though it’s been heavily upgraded in the 27 months since I bought it, it no longer even meets “entry grade” specifications. I’m in two minds about whether to hang on to my current model or flog it. The industry has reached the stage where a week away from the latest developments means that you’re a week out of date. Kinda scary!
Still a couple of hours before the polls close. It’s going to be an interesting night! There was a trickle of voters when I went around mid morning to vote at the school round the corner. As I write, I’ve half an eye on the most awful pictures of dying refugee children in Zaire. The correspondent says these are the acceptable pictures; those of starving children being eaten alive by maggots are untransmissible. One bit of me says that human history is the history of misery & that’s just the way it is. Another bit asks me why I’m buying new computers. I don’t know. Makes me very grateful for loving wife and family.
I count my blessings.
T
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