No frozen ducks' bums...

So I made it up to St James's Park at lunchtime (yesterday, now) and remembered to take my camera with me.

Sadly, it wasn't as cold as it has been and not only was there was no new frost, but there was a minor thaw setting in. On the section of the lake nearest the palace there was no ice, but as I wandered up the length of the park toward Horse Guards', the ice was still there and still dry on top. I hung around and took a few photos, but not many. I've stuck a couple behind the cut simply because it's so rare for such large expanses of water (albeit still water) to freeze in London at any time. It's supposed to get colder again tomorrow, so I'll keep the camera with me and see if anything else presents itself.

In the meantime, here's the obligatory touristy snap of Buck House in the chill of early January...


( Pics under the cut )

No frozen ducks' bums...

So I made it up to St James's Park at lunchtime (yesterday, now) and remembered to take my camera with me.

Sadly, it wasn't as cold as it has been and not only was there was no new frost, but there was a minor thaw setting in. On the section of the lake nearest the palace there was no ice, but as I wandered up the length of the park toward Horse Guards', the ice was still there and still dry on top. I hung around and took a few photos, but not many. I've stuck a couple behind the cut simply because it's so rare for such large expanses of water (albeit still water) to freeze in London at any time. It's supposed to get colder again tomorrow, so I'll keep the camera with me and see if anything else presents itself.

In the meantime, here's the obligatory touristy snap of Buck House in the chill of early January...


( Pics under the cut )

Damn Fine Coffee

Neither of us wanted to get up this morning. In fact, the alarm went off as usual, then the radio came on 10 minutes later – as usual and then suddenly it was nearly 40 minutes later. That gets the blood moving, I can tell you.

I’m in the office now of course and still I don’t want to get up.

I was late to bed last night, which is part of the problem. I didn’t mean to wait until around two before turning in, but something I ate yesterday or the day before clearly had repercussions, so I felt happier sitting in front of my PC rather than turning in until I was sure that the ructions had finished.

We have been watching season one of Twin Peaks on DVD over the past few days. I only saw the odd bit here and there, probably not even a full episode when it was originally broadcast in the early 90s. Viewing it now, I have two observations:

a) it is probably the oddest TV drama I have ever watched, though its influences on later shows are quite obvious; and

b) I have seemingly misplaced my CD of the Twin Peaks soundtrack, which I bought many moons ago on the basis of the rather marvellous theme with that bass…

If Twin Peaks had been filmed in England, it would have to have been set in one of the Isles of Scilly, the Forest of Dean or rural Norfolk. Somewhere where there is a lot of inbreeding and a high incidence of webbed toes in the population.

Everyone in that programme is just plain odd to some extent.

Damn Fine Coffee

Neither of us wanted to get up this morning. In fact, the alarm went off as usual, then the radio came on 10 minutes later – as usual and then suddenly it was nearly 40 minutes later. That gets the blood moving, I can tell you.

I’m in the office now of course and still I don’t want to get up.

I was late to bed last night, which is part of the problem. I didn’t mean to wait until around two before turning in, but something I ate yesterday or the day before clearly had repercussions, so I felt happier sitting in front of my PC rather than turning in until I was sure that the ructions had finished.

We have been watching season one of Twin Peaks on DVD over the past few days. I only saw the odd bit here and there, probably not even a full episode when it was originally broadcast in the early 90s. Viewing it now, I have two observations:

a) it is probably the oddest TV drama I have ever watched, though its influences on later shows are quite obvious; and

b) I have seemingly misplaced my CD of the Twin Peaks soundtrack, which I bought many moons ago on the basis of the rather marvellous theme with that bass…

If Twin Peaks had been filmed in England, it would have to have been set in one of the Isles of Scilly, the Forest of Dean or rural Norfolk. Somewhere where there is a lot of inbreeding and a high incidence of webbed toes in the population.

Everyone in that programme is just plain odd to some extent.

Patience

Patience is a strange and truculent beast. It is possible to be endlessly patient with some things, no matter how apparently irritating, whilst other items simply bypass patience circuits and move directly to ‘annoyance’ without passing go or collecting £200. Strangely, these are quite often moveable irritants, too. One day you may be stocked up with the patience of a saint for one type of occurrence, but wake up the next day to find unexpectedly that you either forgot to re-order or that deliveries of new supplies have been delayed.

There is more to patience than that, too. I think I have expounded before, boroshan’s theories of temporary and permanent patience, but that’s not what I want to get into here.

I think that I am in the middle of a bout of selective patience deficit. This is a term that I have coined to describe the condition whereby one is in generally good spirits but certain things that normally just wash over the psyche unexpectedly decide to dig their finger nails in and scratch away at ones patience until it wears out. Above, I noted that supplies of patience are subject to moveable irritants. At work the usual stuff is just sliding off me like water from a duck’s back. No, what has annoyed me today is twofold (I’m not sure of the grammar of this sentence, but stick with me): shops that move their stock around for no apparent reason and the zombie-like behaviour of lunchtime (in particular) shoppers. To be fair the second may well be a direct consequence of the first, though that does not make it any less irritating.

Presumably in an attempt to boost flagging sales, the local M&S food store has taken the opportunity to rearrange its stock from its previous, perfectly functional, arrangement and shift items seemingly randomly about the place. This means that years of auto pilot navigation around the place are now obsolete and I have to hunt around for stuff that previously I could just lay my hands on without troubling my attention span.

The theory is, I guess, that people will wander past and buy items they would normally either ignore or simply not notice.

Well, it doesn’t work. It irritates, but it does not work. I still only buy a sandwich, bag of crisps and a newspaper. I don’t want the fancy over-priced au gratins and strangely marinated items they proffer. I sometimes want a choccy when I am not trying to be good, but since they are generally well hidden anyway…

The trouble is, not only do I have to hunt around for stuff I could previously walk to with my eyes shut, I now have to navigate around dead-eyed zombie office workers who have not made the mental leap from ‘it’s not in the same place’ to ’I must look for it’ and are therefore wandering aimlessly and crowding around the choke points in the shop layout.

This is what reminded me that civil servants, in a perfect world, would be allowed to carry machetes with them to clear the rabble in times of need.

It would be a public service and a pleasure.

Patience

Patience is a strange and truculent beast. It is possible to be endlessly patient with some things, no matter how apparently irritating, whilst other items simply bypass patience circuits and move directly to ‘annoyance’ without passing go or collecting £200. Strangely, these are quite often moveable irritants, too. One day you may be stocked up with the patience of a saint for one type of occurrence, but wake up the next day to find unexpectedly that you either forgot to re-order or that deliveries of new supplies have been delayed.

There is more to patience than that, too. I think I have expounded before, boroshan’s theories of temporary and permanent patience, but that’s not what I want to get into here.

I think that I am in the middle of a bout of selective patience deficit. This is a term that I have coined to describe the condition whereby one is in generally good spirits but certain things that normally just wash over the psyche unexpectedly decide to dig their finger nails in and scratch away at ones patience until it wears out. Above, I noted that supplies of patience are subject to moveable irritants. At work the usual stuff is just sliding off me like water from a duck’s back. No, what has annoyed me today is twofold (I’m not sure of the grammar of this sentence, but stick with me): shops that move their stock around for no apparent reason and the zombie-like behaviour of lunchtime (in particular) shoppers. To be fair the second may well be a direct consequence of the first, though that does not make it any less irritating.

Presumably in an attempt to boost flagging sales, the local M&S food store has taken the opportunity to rearrange its stock from its previous, perfectly functional, arrangement and shift items seemingly randomly about the place. This means that years of auto pilot navigation around the place are now obsolete and I have to hunt around for stuff that previously I could just lay my hands on without troubling my attention span.

The theory is, I guess, that people will wander past and buy items they would normally either ignore or simply not notice.

Well, it doesn’t work. It irritates, but it does not work. I still only buy a sandwich, bag of crisps and a newspaper. I don’t want the fancy over-priced au gratins and strangely marinated items they proffer. I sometimes want a choccy when I am not trying to be good, but since they are generally well hidden anyway…

The trouble is, not only do I have to hunt around for stuff I could previously walk to with my eyes shut, I now have to navigate around dead-eyed zombie office workers who have not made the mental leap from ‘it’s not in the same place’ to ’I must look for it’ and are therefore wandering aimlessly and crowding around the choke points in the shop layout.

This is what reminded me that civil servants, in a perfect world, would be allowed to carry machetes with them to clear the rabble in times of need.

It would be a public service and a pleasure.