Crazy, Man

One of the features I most treasure about my Network Walkman is the shuffle play mode. It's got to the point where I rarely listen to an album straight through, but just have the contents (currently at about 5,000 tracks) of my walkman shuffled for my pleasure.

Tonight it seems to have themes its selections. In my head I have been to the oddest gig ever. In random selection, I have just had five consecutive live tracks featuring variously, Anglagård, The Ozric Tentacles, Curved Air, Oasis and Rod Stewart. The applause between songs merged seamlessly. Fantastic.

With a single studio interlude from Ringo (Bless him), I am back on the live tracks with another Anglagård number, Jordrök.

Fantastic.

Crazy, Man

One of the features I most treasure about my Network Walkman is the shuffle play mode. It's got to the point where I rarely listen to an album straight through, but just have the contents (currently at about 5,000 tracks) of my walkman shuffled for my pleasure.

Tonight it seems to have themes its selections. In my head I have been to the oddest gig ever. In random selection, I have just had five consecutive live tracks featuring variously, Anglagård, The Ozric Tentacles, Curved Air, Oasis and Rod Stewart. The applause between songs merged seamlessly. Fantastic.

With a single studio interlude from Ringo (Bless him), I am back on the live tracks with another Anglagård number, Jordrök.

Fantastic.

Odd

Alerted by mr_h_r_hughes, I have just had a quick peek around various LJs on my friends list. There seems to be a problem with the system; my LJ appears to be OK thus far, but a number of you seem to have lost all recent posts (or rather they are there on your calendars but inaccessible).

You may find that the system will not let you upload new posts, either. (I am hoping this will post, but I have no way of knowing at this moment).

LJ has been a bit squiffy since they upgraded the servers.

Odd

Alerted by mr_h_r_hughes, I have just had a quick peek around various LJs on my friends list. There seems to be a problem with the system; my LJ appears to be OK thus far, but a number of you seem to have lost all recent posts (or rather they are there on your calendars but inaccessible).

You may find that the system will not let you upload new posts, either. (I am hoping this will post, but I have no way of knowing at this moment).

LJ has been a bit squiffy since they upgraded the servers.

Domestic reality for our time

A stitch in time, they say, saves nine.

True enough, I suppose, if taken literally. I can assure you though, that as a proverb it stinks.

Earlier this evening I ironed a nice clean shirt ready for tomorrow's working day. I noticed that one button was hanging on by little more than a single thread, and the one next to it was also reaching for the revolver. It occurred to me that this was a bad thing. I think we can all agree that no-one wants my copious belly bursting out of a shirt with alien-like glee on an unsuspecting world. Especially when, as they say, a stitch in time saves nine.

Of course, for this to be true in all senses, there have to be certain criteria in place. One must know where the spare reel of cotton thread is hiding. Not only that, it has to bear at least a reasonable approximation to the colour of the shirt you are proposing to mend. Six will buy you four that you can dig out thread every other colour of the rainbow within seconds. The colour you want, for the sake of argument, let's call it pale brown - bordering on ochre, takes much, much longer to find. It is in none of the usual nooks and crannies where useful stuff hides. It won't be in The Drawer - you know the one I mean, the drawer everyone has which contains a random assortment of useful but small tranquilments, together with an array of bakelite and plastic curios of uncertain function which may come in handy one day. No, it won't be there.

It will tease you, for you will know that you have seen it recently whilst hunting down another piece of domestic ephemera (which you no longer need, but which you will find while looking for the thread: Alum Key, j'accuse). Assuming you find the thing you're looking for, and this depends entirely upon the caprice of the Karma Pixies it will take you a significant portion of your evening.

Most of all, it won't be quite the right shade of pale-brown-let's-call-it-ochre after all.

Eventually, you will find either the thread or something you now accept to be close enough (ie visible to the naked eye) and you will bring thread and shirt together. At this point you will discover that the sewing needle and all its kin has done a runner. It is no longer where you distinctly recall having left it before you, the bearers and every Sherpa in the Himalayas set out on the Great Thread Quest.

I generally find that unless you have done something despicable in the recent past, something of the order of punching someone's granny and making off with her pension book, the Karma Pixies relent after say, forty-five minutes to an hour, and you can get on with what you started all that time back.

Or you can buy a new shirt.

A stitch in time saves nine? Riiiight.

Domestic reality for our time

A stitch in time, they say, saves nine.

True enough, I suppose, if taken literally. I can assure you though, that as a proverb it stinks.

Earlier this evening I ironed a nice clean shirt ready for tomorrow's working day. I noticed that one button was hanging on by little more than a single thread, and the one next to it was also reaching for the revolver. It occurred to me that this was a bad thing. I think we can all agree that no-one wants my copious belly bursting out of a shirt with alien-like glee on an unsuspecting world. Especially when, as they say, a stitch in time saves nine.

Of course, for this to be true in all senses, there have to be certain criteria in place. One must know where the spare reel of cotton thread is hiding. Not only that, it has to bear at least a reasonable approximation to the colour of the shirt you are proposing to mend. Six will buy you four that you can dig out thread every other colour of the rainbow within seconds. The colour you want, for the sake of argument, let's call it pale brown - bordering on ochre, takes much, much longer to find. It is in none of the usual nooks and crannies where useful stuff hides. It won't be in The Drawer - you know the one I mean, the drawer everyone has which contains a random assortment of useful but small tranquilments, together with an array of bakelite and plastic curios of uncertain function which may come in handy one day. No, it won't be there.

It will tease you, for you will know that you have seen it recently whilst hunting down another piece of domestic ephemera (which you no longer need, but which you will find while looking for the thread: Alum Key, j'accuse). Assuming you find the thing you're looking for, and this depends entirely upon the caprice of the Karma Pixies it will take you a significant portion of your evening.

Most of all, it won't be quite the right shade of pale-brown-let's-call-it-ochre after all.

Eventually, you will find either the thread or something you now accept to be close enough (ie visible to the naked eye) and you will bring thread and shirt together. At this point you will discover that the sewing needle and all its kin has done a runner. It is no longer where you distinctly recall having left it before you, the bearers and every Sherpa in the Himalayas set out on the Great Thread Quest.

I generally find that unless you have done something despicable in the recent past, something of the order of punching someone's granny and making off with her pension book, the Karma Pixies relent after say, forty-five minutes to an hour, and you can get on with what you started all that time back.

Or you can buy a new shirt.

A stitch in time saves nine? Riiiight.