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The Warsaw Concerto
Friday, June 24th, 2005 12:31 amIn this time of heightened temperatures, life has a tendency to become unbearable indoors - and, indeed, outdoors.
We here at the Athenaeum Club have acquired two new, but seriously cheap fans for the living room. My older and sturdier (and, it has to be said, grimier) electric punkah wallah is now in my bedroom, disturbing the dust and scaring the odd moth.
House-mate and fellow member of the Athenaeum Club, DT sans LJ has I believe, something similar. This though, is but rumour, since it does not behoove a right thinking man to wander in to his sanctum without first taking the sacrament and ensuring that one is properly shriven. Even then, the prayer books are like to char and the holy water boil, so best all round to pass by the door and merely ponder.
We put the two new acquisitions through their proving trials this evening, during the weekly gaming session, and they seemed to perform well enough. Admittedly we were light of the usual number by two, holidays taking their toll of our weekly entertainment regime. An adequate performance was recorded for a total outlay of no more than £16. With one fan at either end of the room, we were able to redistribute the heat and armpittage to previously unexplored parts of the building, whilst maintaining a comparatively cool demeanour. A more sturdy test awaits once the group is back up to full strength in a couple of weeks' time. After that we should know whether or not it will be safe to hold the grand plot meeting of the NWO referee-writers over the weekend of 9-10 July.
As I write from The Tower, I am beginning to think a further acquisition may be needed for this room, too. As stated before, there seems to be no air movement at all. I fondly recall the wind tunnel I created here but a month ago, despite the fact that I nearly crippled myself on my Union Jack and and the Stars and Stripes which I have covering the shelves in my bedroom. They look deceptively docile most of the time, but when the wind is in the right direction, the damned things unfurl in all their glory and swipe anything and everything within reach to the floor. The only way to cope when that happens is to turn the lights down and play the Warsaw Concerto at full blast on the hifi.
How I long to hear the Warsaw Concerto again.
We here at the Athenaeum Club have acquired two new, but seriously cheap fans for the living room. My older and sturdier (and, it has to be said, grimier) electric punkah wallah is now in my bedroom, disturbing the dust and scaring the odd moth.
House-mate and fellow member of the Athenaeum Club, DT sans LJ has I believe, something similar. This though, is but rumour, since it does not behoove a right thinking man to wander in to his sanctum without first taking the sacrament and ensuring that one is properly shriven. Even then, the prayer books are like to char and the holy water boil, so best all round to pass by the door and merely ponder.
We put the two new acquisitions through their proving trials this evening, during the weekly gaming session, and they seemed to perform well enough. Admittedly we were light of the usual number by two, holidays taking their toll of our weekly entertainment regime. An adequate performance was recorded for a total outlay of no more than £16. With one fan at either end of the room, we were able to redistribute the heat and armpittage to previously unexplored parts of the building, whilst maintaining a comparatively cool demeanour. A more sturdy test awaits once the group is back up to full strength in a couple of weeks' time. After that we should know whether or not it will be safe to hold the grand plot meeting of the NWO referee-writers over the weekend of 9-10 July.
As I write from The Tower, I am beginning to think a further acquisition may be needed for this room, too. As stated before, there seems to be no air movement at all. I fondly recall the wind tunnel I created here but a month ago, despite the fact that I nearly crippled myself on my Union Jack and and the Stars and Stripes which I have covering the shelves in my bedroom. They look deceptively docile most of the time, but when the wind is in the right direction, the damned things unfurl in all their glory and swipe anything and everything within reach to the floor. The only way to cope when that happens is to turn the lights down and play the Warsaw Concerto at full blast on the hifi.
How I long to hear the Warsaw Concerto again.
