Monday, March 05, 2007
Back on the air!
Felt quite lost for two days, unable to post although both the blogger site and this PC appeared to be up and running. Clearly quite an addictive activity. But thank you to whoever or whatever cleared the jam.
Have been treated to a sight of the Epsom and Ewell Borough Council instructions to mini-cab drivers about the forthcoming ban on smoking in public places. It seems that mini-cab drivers will not be allowed to smoke in their cabs at all because the smoke can soak into the unholstery while he smokes and then ooze out in a cancerifous way while the passenger subsequently sits. And our taxes are paying people to write this twaddle while herds of hoodies continue to roam the estates, the regular inhabitants of some of which are getting quite twitchy. Apparently one's propensity to twitchiness about such matters increases rapidly with age. Eventually one hunkers down in the locked and bolted kitchen, huddled around the radio tuned to the phone-in show devoted to such matters. And reads the Daily Mail.
The same twaddle writers, presumably, who write the regulations about recycling. As a result of which we have learnt that some of our neighbours have criminal tendencies because they have taking to secreting small amounts of recyclable waste in among the land fill waste in their wheelie bins because it was too cold/wet/whatever to make it to the compost bin down the garden. We look forward to the day when the waste transfer station environmental engineers (first class) have been empowered to extract on the spot fines if they catch us at it.
A differant sort of hoodie accosted me as I cycled back from the baker. Not really a hoodie, rather quite a decent looking teenager from the local comprehensive coming back from a games lesson. But he was in a peer herd he clearly felt the need to make loud comments about gramps tearing down the road at all of 5 miles an hour as I cycled past. I hear of much worse. Now when I was that age, all our criminal tendencies were focussed on the length of sideburns (which I was and remain useless at) and on wearing shoes which contravened the school dress code in some way. Favourite techniques were shoes with what were called Cuban heels or shoes with elasticated sides rather than laces. Were these Chelsea boots? Both could get teachers into a right paddy. At least in those days there were rules for us to head butt - one does, it seems, need something - but the rules were in very safe territory. Now that we allow children to do almost anything they, are a bit stuck for something good to butt - and are reduced to being seriously unpleasant. I remember I trailed this theory at a shrink class once and got shot down for having manipulative tendencies. But I stick to my guns.
To QEH again on Thursday to hear a Finn (Ollie M?) play the Goldberg Variations. A very florid stage presence - which I rather liked. And he managed to make the piano sound rather more like a harpsicord than I would have thought likely. All in all a rather loud and boisterous performance. But we liked it - unlike the man in today's DT who clearly did not. Maybe he was the chap to our left who left half way through - despite there being no interval.
BH reminds me that the last time we heard this peice live was around 30 years ago - when we heard it twice, once on the harpsicord and once on the piano, with an interval, by a Polish lady. About 3 hours all in apparently: clearly a lot after a day's teaching, it sticks in the mind after all this time. I think I must have been doing something less arduous.
I wondered whether the fact that there were 32 chunks was significant. 32 is, after all, a very powerful number and I think that most composers of the Bach era were very into numerology. On the other hand, one of the 32 chunks is the aria and one the finale (although called something else, perhaps coda), so the count of 32 is a little shaky. And Diabelli is, I think, 30 so that doesn't work either.
We find that a cafe in Reigate also sells Belgian buns. The same sort of idea as those from Cheam but rather flatter. As if one had started with a much fatter Swiss roll of bun mix and then sliced it rather thinner. The finished product about the size and shape of a Danish pastry. So it seems that Belgian buns have a genuine existance and are not a whimsy of the baker at Cheam. All that said, a proper cinnamon flavoured fairly soggy Chelsea bun is the way forward. None of this foreign stuff here please.
Getting withdrawal symptoms from the allotment - not having been for more than a week. I thought we were going to have a dry day which meant that it might have been worth going tomorrow - but just had a shower. Hopefully my continuing efforts with the paint brush will have had time to skin over before they got wet.
Have been treated to a sight of the Epsom and Ewell Borough Council instructions to mini-cab drivers about the forthcoming ban on smoking in public places. It seems that mini-cab drivers will not be allowed to smoke in their cabs at all because the smoke can soak into the unholstery while he smokes and then ooze out in a cancerifous way while the passenger subsequently sits. And our taxes are paying people to write this twaddle while herds of hoodies continue to roam the estates, the regular inhabitants of some of which are getting quite twitchy. Apparently one's propensity to twitchiness about such matters increases rapidly with age. Eventually one hunkers down in the locked and bolted kitchen, huddled around the radio tuned to the phone-in show devoted to such matters. And reads the Daily Mail.
The same twaddle writers, presumably, who write the regulations about recycling. As a result of which we have learnt that some of our neighbours have criminal tendencies because they have taking to secreting small amounts of recyclable waste in among the land fill waste in their wheelie bins because it was too cold/wet/whatever to make it to the compost bin down the garden. We look forward to the day when the waste transfer station environmental engineers (first class) have been empowered to extract on the spot fines if they catch us at it.
A differant sort of hoodie accosted me as I cycled back from the baker. Not really a hoodie, rather quite a decent looking teenager from the local comprehensive coming back from a games lesson. But he was in a peer herd he clearly felt the need to make loud comments about gramps tearing down the road at all of 5 miles an hour as I cycled past. I hear of much worse. Now when I was that age, all our criminal tendencies were focussed on the length of sideburns (which I was and remain useless at) and on wearing shoes which contravened the school dress code in some way. Favourite techniques were shoes with what were called Cuban heels or shoes with elasticated sides rather than laces. Were these Chelsea boots? Both could get teachers into a right paddy. At least in those days there were rules for us to head butt - one does, it seems, need something - but the rules were in very safe territory. Now that we allow children to do almost anything they, are a bit stuck for something good to butt - and are reduced to being seriously unpleasant. I remember I trailed this theory at a shrink class once and got shot down for having manipulative tendencies. But I stick to my guns.
To QEH again on Thursday to hear a Finn (Ollie M?) play the Goldberg Variations. A very florid stage presence - which I rather liked. And he managed to make the piano sound rather more like a harpsicord than I would have thought likely. All in all a rather loud and boisterous performance. But we liked it - unlike the man in today's DT who clearly did not. Maybe he was the chap to our left who left half way through - despite there being no interval.
BH reminds me that the last time we heard this peice live was around 30 years ago - when we heard it twice, once on the harpsicord and once on the piano, with an interval, by a Polish lady. About 3 hours all in apparently: clearly a lot after a day's teaching, it sticks in the mind after all this time. I think I must have been doing something less arduous.
I wondered whether the fact that there were 32 chunks was significant. 32 is, after all, a very powerful number and I think that most composers of the Bach era were very into numerology. On the other hand, one of the 32 chunks is the aria and one the finale (although called something else, perhaps coda), so the count of 32 is a little shaky. And Diabelli is, I think, 30 so that doesn't work either.
We find that a cafe in Reigate also sells Belgian buns. The same sort of idea as those from Cheam but rather flatter. As if one had started with a much fatter Swiss roll of bun mix and then sliced it rather thinner. The finished product about the size and shape of a Danish pastry. So it seems that Belgian buns have a genuine existance and are not a whimsy of the baker at Cheam. All that said, a proper cinnamon flavoured fairly soggy Chelsea bun is the way forward. None of this foreign stuff here please.
Getting withdrawal symptoms from the allotment - not having been for more than a week. I thought we were going to have a dry day which meant that it might have been worth going tomorrow - but just had a shower. Hopefully my continuing efforts with the paint brush will have had time to skin over before they got wet.
# posted by Jim @ 6:44 AM 
