Ah. January

Well I don't know about you, but I was just getting used to 2005 when it finished.

It's pretty much like that every year; it was deep into the year 2000 before I stopped writing 19... in the date section of cheques, and most years it takes until about mid February before use of the correct last two digits in the date become habit. Luckily I rarely have to write the date any more, computers do that for me. I guess it's a little like the handwriting thing I mentioned some time back, though I expect my mistakes have more to do with encroaching senility than any lack of practice.

I shan't be going to bed for another hour or so, I had a late meal and think I might have over done it slightly (amount wise, rather than the cooking per se). After spending the biggest part of the past fortnight eating very tasty, but comparatively rich food, I deliberately dropped off the bottom of the haute cuisine table (unintended pun, by George) and made myself fish and chips. Very nice, but perhaps a chip too many. Sadly, this was not apparent until after colonel_maxim had wandered in and indicated that he might need help polishing off a bread and butter pudding and tub of double cream. It would have been churlish to refuse to help, and I consider myself to a polite and helpful cove, so I took half of the amount available, and he the other.

It might have been the coffee to follow that caused the current unwillingness to go to bed for another hour or so...

I hope that one and all had a splendid New Year. I did. Quiet, but splendid, which is how I like them.

Further experimentation with the laser pointer over the weekend revealed to me the existence of either the world's laziest or most intelligent cat. It spotted the the red dot bouncing in front of it on the floor, watched it for a moment and then wandered into the other room. So much for my planned entertainment, watching the poor feline beast try to scuff something that wasn't there.

Ah. January

Well I don't know about you, but I was just getting used to 2005 when it finished.

It's pretty much like that every year; it was deep into the year 2000 before I stopped writing 19... in the date section of cheques, and most years it takes until about mid February before use of the correct last two digits in the date become habit. Luckily I rarely have to write the date any more, computers do that for me. I guess it's a little like the handwriting thing I mentioned some time back, though I expect my mistakes have more to do with encroaching senility than any lack of practice.

I shan't be going to bed for another hour or so, I had a late meal and think I might have over done it slightly (amount wise, rather than the cooking per se). After spending the biggest part of the past fortnight eating very tasty, but comparatively rich food, I deliberately dropped off the bottom of the haute cuisine table (unintended pun, by George) and made myself fish and chips. Very nice, but perhaps a chip too many. Sadly, this was not apparent until after colonel_maxim had wandered in and indicated that he might need help polishing off a bread and butter pudding and tub of double cream. It would have been churlish to refuse to help, and I consider myself to a polite and helpful cove, so I took half of the amount available, and he the other.

It might have been the coffee to follow that caused the current unwillingness to go to bed for another hour or so...

I hope that one and all had a splendid New Year. I did. Quiet, but splendid, which is how I like them.

Further experimentation with the laser pointer over the weekend revealed to me the existence of either the world's laziest or most intelligent cat. It spotted the the red dot bouncing in front of it on the floor, watched it for a moment and then wandered into the other room. So much for my planned entertainment, watching the poor feline beast try to scuff something that wasn't there.

Umbrella Stands

Where does the time go? My last day before going back to work is more than half over, and tomorrow it will automatically feel as though there's been no holiday at all. Ah well, c'est la vie.

Having spent much of the past fortnight elsewhere, I shall have to nip out to Waitrose later this afternoon and purchase viands¹ for the forthcoming (half) week. Basic fare is most welcome after the past couple of weeks, but when it falls to bread, butter and a few digestive biscuits, you know instinctively that it is time to do the shopping.

The Athenaeum Club is still distressingly tidy, and continuing in his phase of uncharacteristic domesticity, Beastie (colonel_maxim) has acquired a few cheap lamp shades. An unexpected development, but not unwelcome. It had not occurred to me before, but some of the rooms in the club had a distinct Stasi interrogation room feel, with all the bare bulbs on display. The downside is that I can no longer blow smoke at the light fittings, swing the bulbs and pretend that I am in the opening credits of an episode of Callan².

One of the side effects of this continued tidiness is that the last few stacks of oddities we have not secreted elsewhere tend to stick out like sore thumbs. In the (for want of a better name) utility room for example, we have four walking sticks, three rubber swords, two umbrellas and a crossbow: this is completely true, and the numerical progression is both pleasing and entirely accidental. Stacked as they are, behind the door, they now look untidy and at least one is taking damage. We need an umbrella stand, but it must be a big one to cope; ideally an elephant's foot. I don't suppose anyone has one? No? Well, there's a project for the new year.


¹As was pointed out elsewhere on this journal some time back, it is impossible to buy mere victuals from Waitrose. The Upper Middle Class sensibilities and/or aspirations of the John Lewis Partnership demand that at the very least their retail outlets purvey nothing less than viands, and some will not drop their standards below sweet-meats. For the lesser, bulk commodities, one is required to don carpet slippers and a headscarf and wander in to Sainsbury's or, Heaven forbid, Tesco's. Of course in so doing, life takes on a rather worrying League of Gentlemen slant, and we don't want that, do we?

²A number of my younger readers will not have the faintest clue what I'm talking about here: I suggest Google. Explanations spoil the effect.<sup>3

3</sup>D'OH!

Umbrella Stands

Where does the time go? My last day before going back to work is more than half over, and tomorrow it will automatically feel as though there's been no holiday at all. Ah well, c'est la vie.

Having spent much of the past fortnight elsewhere, I shall have to nip out to Waitrose later this afternoon and purchase viands¹ for the forthcoming (half) week. Basic fare is most welcome after the past couple of weeks, but when it falls to bread, butter and a few digestive biscuits, you know instinctively that it is time to do the shopping.

The Athenaeum Club is still distressingly tidy, and continuing in his phase of uncharacteristic domesticity, Beastie (colonel_maxim) has acquired a few cheap lamp shades. An unexpected development, but not unwelcome. It had not occurred to me before, but some of the rooms in the club had a distinct Stasi interrogation room feel, with all the bare bulbs on display. The downside is that I can no longer blow smoke at the light fittings, swing the bulbs and pretend that I am in the opening credits of an episode of Callan².

One of the side effects of this continued tidiness is that the last few stacks of oddities we have not secreted elsewhere tend to stick out like sore thumbs. In the (for want of a better name) utility room for example, we have four walking sticks, three rubber swords, two umbrellas and a crossbow: this is completely true, and the numerical progression is both pleasing and entirely accidental. Stacked as they are, behind the door, they now look untidy and at least one is taking damage. We need an umbrella stand, but it must be a big one to cope; ideally an elephant's foot. I don't suppose anyone has one? No? Well, there's a project for the new year.


¹As was pointed out elsewhere on this journal some time back, it is impossible to buy mere victuals from Waitrose. The Upper Middle Class sensibilities and/or aspirations of the John Lewis Partnership demand that at the very least their retail outlets purvey nothing less than viands, and some will not drop their standards below sweet-meats. For the lesser, bulk commodities, one is required to don carpet slippers and a headscarf and wander in to Sainsbury's or, Heaven forbid, Tesco's. Of course in so doing, life takes on a rather worrying League of Gentlemen slant, and we don't want that, do we?

²A number of my younger readers will not have the faintest clue what I'm talking about here: I suggest Google. Explanations spoil the effect.<sup>3

3</sup>D'OH!

Good Lord

Reading through various friends' entries, I happened upon this rather basic face recognition site, which had been posted up in keresaspa's journal.

It took me several attempts to find a photo that the software recognised as having a face in it (stop laughing in the cheap seats). Once I had found a picture the site was happy with (!), it decided that I have a 67% similarity with Henry Fonda. I was quite pleased with that, though I don't see a similarity myself.

I should have left it there, but further fiddling suggested that I have a 62% facial similarity with JK Rowling.

Somebody should sue someone...

Good Lord

Reading through various friends' entries, I happened upon this rather basic face recognition site, which had been posted up in keresaspa's journal.

It took me several attempts to find a photo that the software recognised as having a face in it (stop laughing in the cheap seats). Once I had found a picture the site was happy with (!), it decided that I have a 67% similarity with Henry Fonda. I was quite pleased with that, though I don't see a similarity myself.

I should have left it there, but further fiddling suggested that I have a 62% facial similarity with JK Rowling.

Somebody should sue someone...