(no subject)

Well, you can tell it's a bank holiday weekend, all right. The clouds are dark and heavy: promising, but not yet delivering rain; there is a hint of dampness in the air. The wind has dropped, but left the ambient temperature where it fell at around 18 degrees (Celsius - it's not that cold).

At some point this afternoon, I shall bestir myself for a short trip into Finchley to find somewhere where I can buy new speakers for this aging PC, something that will play through then USB port and play in stereo, too, without me berating the speakers (or indeed occasionally belabouring them).

I have successfully lounged this morning away, so the projected clean up has yet to begin. The dust bunnies in The Tower are joyous at this news, but their reprieve is but a short one. I am determined that there will be a cleaning and a sorting and a throwing away of stuff. The latter of that list will be the hardest to do since I am an inveterate hoarder. Maybe I should dig a hole out back and place surplus stuff in there and then forget about it for the benefit of future archaeologists, though that does seem like an awful lot of work for a joke that will only come to fruition long after I'm dead.

And now, food, I think. Then I shall gird my loins (hush, binidj) and wander into Finchley.

I have decided that the words vittles and victuals shall now be replaced in polite conversation with the word, provender.

(no subject)

Well, you can tell it's a bank holiday weekend, all right. The clouds are dark and heavy: promising, but not yet delivering rain; there is a hint of dampness in the air. The wind has dropped, but left the ambient temperature where it fell at around 18 degrees (Celsius - it's not that cold).

At some point this afternoon, I shall bestir myself for a short trip into Finchley to find somewhere where I can buy new speakers for this aging PC, something that will play through then USB port and play in stereo, too, without me berating the speakers (or indeed occasionally belabouring them).

I have successfully lounged this morning away, so the projected clean up has yet to begin. The dust bunnies in The Tower are joyous at this news, but their reprieve is but a short one. I am determined that there will be a cleaning and a sorting and a throwing away of stuff. The latter of that list will be the hardest to do since I am an inveterate hoarder. Maybe I should dig a hole out back and place surplus stuff in there and then forget about it for the benefit of future archaeologists, though that does seem like an awful lot of work for a joke that will only come to fruition long after I'm dead.

And now, food, I think. Then I shall gird my loins (hush, binidj) and wander into Finchley.

I have decided that the words vittles and victuals shall now be replaced in polite conversation with the word, provender.