Saturday morning

The forecast break in the weather for London did not arrive as I had hoped yesterday. I should know better than to believe the Met Office since I have a lifetime's experience of their accuracy, but periodically I forget and assume that now, in the 21st century... The upshot was that I slept badly yet again, so despite dozing for much of this morning, I still have cotton wool behind my eyes and a bag of flour in my head. At two this morning, despite being on the middle setting, the fan was just recirculating warm air around the bedroom and by two-thirty I was mentally ready and physically prepared for some celestial cook to prod me with a skewer to see if the juices were running clear yet.

When I awoke - at the slightest of touches, I am told at 8.55, the birthday girl was already sitting up and reading her book. I nipped into the spare room and dug out her prezzie and then downstairs to make coffee and bring back the chocolate cake for breakfast. Very nice it was, too, though a few minutes later I seem to have had a very small anxiety attack, not enough to be debilitating, but enough to make me tense. I think too much sugar and cream too early before my system was probably up and running after a week of constant low-level annoyance and poor sleep may have contributed. An hour's extra dozing seems to have helped. I expect we will try the chilled fizz a little later, or maybe tomorrow morning.

I am listening to the new British Sea Power album, Man of Aran. Thus far, two tracks in, it is a complete departure from their previous work, being essentially a soundtrack to the film of the same name, made in 1934 and a copy of which is supplied on DVD with the soundtrack.That's not to say that it isn't good, but it is a lot quieter than expected (deliberately recorded low to maintain dynamic range in addition to the style of music). I shall be interested in the thoughts of immerwahr, the only other person I know who is a mad fan of BSP.

Fed up with wondering what all the fuss was about back in the 60s, I have spent a fiver in Fopp and picked up a copy of Buffalo Springfield: Again, the middle album of the three they produced in their 25 month career. It is supposedly the best of their three offerings and will be an interesting window on the early work of of Stephen Stills and Neil Young in their pre Crosby, Stills and Nash and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young days (who says all the best band names have been used?).

I am now going to enjoy the rest of the afternoon before temperatures slide off the scale...

I hear bagpipes...

Saturday morning

The forecast break in the weather for London did not arrive as I had hoped yesterday. I should know better than to believe the Met Office since I have a lifetime's experience of their accuracy, but periodically I forget and assume that now, in the 21st century... The upshot was that I slept badly yet again, so despite dozing for much of this morning, I still have cotton wool behind my eyes and a bag of flour in my head. At two this morning, despite being on the middle setting, the fan was just recirculating warm air around the bedroom and by two-thirty I was mentally ready and physically prepared for some celestial cook to prod me with a skewer to see if the juices were running clear yet.

When I awoke - at the slightest of touches, I am told at 8.55, the birthday girl was already sitting up and reading her book. I nipped into the spare room and dug out her prezzie and then downstairs to make coffee and bring back the chocolate cake for breakfast. Very nice it was, too, though a few minutes later I seem to have had a very small anxiety attack, not enough to be debilitating, but enough to make me tense. I think too much sugar and cream too early before my system was probably up and running after a week of constant low-level annoyance and poor sleep may have contributed. An hour's extra dozing seems to have helped. I expect we will try the chilled fizz a little later, or maybe tomorrow morning.

I am listening to the new British Sea Power album, Man of Aran. Thus far, two tracks in, it is a complete departure from their previous work, being essentially a soundtrack to the film of the same name, made in 1934 and a copy of which is supplied on DVD with the soundtrack.That's not to say that it isn't good, but it is a lot quieter than expected (deliberately recorded low to maintain dynamic range in addition to the style of music). I shall be interested in the thoughts of immerwahr, the only other person I know who is a mad fan of BSP.

Fed up with wondering what all the fuss was about back in the 60s, I have spent a fiver in Fopp and picked up a copy of Buffalo Springfield: Again, the middle album of the three they produced in their 25 month career. It is supposedly the best of their three offerings and will be an interesting window on the early work of of Stephen Stills and Neil Young in their pre Crosby, Stills and Nash and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young days (who says all the best band names have been used?).

I am now going to enjoy the rest of the afternoon before temperatures slide off the scale...

I hear bagpipes...

Make it stop

I have had enough of those bloody bagpipes. I wish I knew where the noise was coming from...

Cultural pride or not, ten minutes of the fekking pipes illustrates why so many Scotsmen are dour and humourless.

Make it stop

I have had enough of those bloody bagpipes. I wish I knew where the noise was coming from...

Cultural pride or not, ten minutes of the fekking pipes illustrates why so many Scotsmen are dour and humourless.