Harriet’s about 4 minutes in [much to her surprise I might add!], and I totally fudge my question at the end [the question was expected, but my mouth failed to function ].
Just after I’d begun to think that I ought to liquidate my share holdings, the meltdown begun.
Not that I’m too concerned about the value of the shares I hold; no, rather that without the cash, my stockbroker can’t really play the market as/when it might come back!
I think this ‘cover shot’ sums it all up quite nicely!
Dropped off my slightly modded Burns Red Special at the The Oxford Guitar Gallery.
It’s to have its headstock resprayed [to remove Brian May’s signature], new locking Gotoh heads and Pearloid buttons, a white Nut and white switch set fitted. That, together with the half-moon and replica trem-arm I’ve already added should make it MUCH nicer I reckon - and it’ll still be a lot cheaper than the new Brian May Super [which I’d also like! But why oh why ruin the headstock with a signature and inlay!]
I bought a new jacket today, which, as always, fitted nicely around my chest, but was overly ambitious when it came to arm length.
So, straight from the jacket shop and into Pamir’s [a very good alterationist in Cheltenham] where Mr Pamir duly measured and pinned and I was sent on my way.
Now Mr Pamir’s shop is upstairs of what I was brought up to call a cobblers – read, re-heeling, and key cutting etc. And, on my way out through that bit of the shop I caught sight of some rather nice boot polish – and stopped to ponder.
Whilst the polish appealed, I really needed some proper brushes to go with it; and I couldn’t see any on the shelves. So, I turned to the shop assistant and asked “do you have any cleaning brushes to go with the polish?”. To which he replied, “No, sorry; we’re due some in on Friday”. I thanked him, said I’d pick some up later, and made my way back to the car.
However, half way there [about 1 minute’s walk] I remembered that I’d forgotten to ask Mr Pamir about fitting some elbow-pads to the jacket. So I about turn, and head back into the shop. No one noticed me as I passed through the Cobblers.
When I’d sorted out the elbow-pads and returned back down again I once more found myself pondering the boot polish.
And, then wickedness surfaced!
I turned to the shop assistant and asked “do you have any cleaning brushes to go with the polish?”
He started to reply, “No, sorry; we’re …” and then rather petered out as a puzzled look came over him!
So I put on an ‘oh my, what’s happening face’ and said, “did you notice a glitch in the Matrix just then?” and walked out.
This [updated] is a draft ‘missive’ … spent a week’s holiday in France and mostly listened to Richard Dawkins’ ‘The God Delusion’ whilst trolling around the place. Anyway, it made me think once again about the origin of ’stuff’ [as Dawkins avoided it (for a later book?)], like believing in ‘invisible friends’.
Just a draft/daft right now; but I would welcome feedback; and lots of ‘argument’.
There’s also the strange coincidence though - last night, I needed a new book, so I turned to my ‘to be read’ pile and at the top was ‘everything and more: a compact history of infinity‘. It wasn’t until I was about to put it down, and spotted that the author had also written ‘Infinite Jest‘ that it hit me.
On the ferry from Portsmouth, I was thoroughly enjoying myself: the ‘Lady’, me, the Sunday Times, a Kir vin blanc - and a nice cabin [for later]. But then the drunk Brits arrived!
The ferry was very quiet – like the car deck was practically empty, and yet the drunk Brits still found time to come along on the same trip as us.
“Oi, Gar-con – three more double shots over ‘ere” etc etc. Swearing their heads off at the bar; how ashamed I felt.
At one point they went outside to play table tennis [in the dark]. “Do you know they charged me fuckin’ 20 quid for this! [waving a table tennis bat]”. A ‘chap’ who was stood nearby having a cigarette, and simply observing asked, “do you have a ball?” The answer was “of course I’ve got a fuckin’ ball you c**t!”
Oh, how I wish I was a black-belt in some martial art - that doesn’t require carrying around a big stick – although such an instrument would have come in rather handy; as I should have loved to knock each one of them overboard.
Today. A beautiful breakfast in the heart of Deauville, and a sun-kissed day to help the lot go down [and my indignation subside].
Quote of the day:
Me: “Where’s the crossword babe?”
H: “Next to the chair”
Me: “Which chair?”
H: “The chair I was sitting in while you were asleep”
