h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I went in to Uni. I went to my room in the sub-cub. I weeded out some opera CDs for a Year 4 who is not going to pursue law as a career and is instead going to study singing. I printed off a load of documents. I dropped off various bits and bobs, and I visited a Prof to pick up a bottle ver' nice malt. The singer and I then walked in to town. I bought him lunch at Casa di, and he bought me a pear sorbet cone, ver' ver' nice. Casa di Gelato ices are quite excellent. We walked to the Oxfam Bookshop, where he checked out the fantasy RPG books, and I bought a Kiss CD. Then we went our separate ways. I will (hopefully) see him at the Graduation on 4/7, but he needs to get his marks first. His pal, he says, another of my tutes, is now the manager of a wine shop on the Royal Mile, and I plan to drop in on him on Saturday

I went to 1-UP and bought a Blodwyn Pig CD - Getting to This, their first album, and Mick Abrahams' first LP following his departure from 'This Was' Jethro Tull, the best JT album and line-up. I bought some salad and some buns, and a bottlie wine for tonight. I came home, forgetting to get my hay fever meds - demmy - meaning another sneezy day.

With a bound... Yes, I have managed to duck out of my July London trip. Hmmmm, Cambs. may be more difficult as my mother has heard about it and wants a photo of me in all gussied-up mode - Caius is talking white tie.

Burgers (home-made) for tea. Some salad. A bottlie wine.

I have been struggling to get Kindle, then Nook, then Digital Editions, onto my Archos. Eventually, I gave up and went for a generic reader which had a DRM option. I bought an e-book to try it out; Neuromancer, because, well, it seemed appropriate. Neuromancer; virtual reality, the matrix, surfing the web - all so futuristic and curring-edge in, what?, 1983-84.

Basically, a book full of Blade Runner imagery; the future from nearly 30 years ago, and now looking ver'much like most yesterday's tomorrows - I never got my jet pack and flying car, and tho' Miah is fine enough, I do sometimes miss the robocat companion that I grew up expecting to have.

When I was 12-13, my quandry was, was I going to be an astronaut or a spy.

I ignored Miah's spurgie gift last night so she took it away. I think she gave it to the second-oldest of the four girlies downstairs, who is a robust and assertive wee thing, with a Charles Addams streak to her. I think that the spurgie corpse is now underneath her bed, pressed between the pages of a book.

Prof has offered me the use of his room for the 10 days starting next Monday. The first words of the first proper draft of my thesis will get bashed out next Monday.

One of my Succession and Trusts tutes has e-mailed me for advice in re. finding a trust that might pay something to help meet short-term otherwise uncovered care costs for someone she knows of. I am ver' encouraged. I will give her a proper reply. The word is good re. this year's S&T class.

They are playing at firing squads out backie. A purple pogo stick is filling in as a rifle.

The idea of being in London is not so horrible as the idea of having to go there. I hate the whols airports thing - the waiting, the queuing, the being processed and prodded, the constaint restraint and the constant impulse to blurt out the B word, as in "this lot need a (cheesecake) put beneneath them." Sitting in an airport lounge, my head always fills with all of the words I should never utter in an airport, and the urge to say one of them just grows and grows and I feel like Father Dougal looking at the big red button with the notice 'Do Not Push this Button'.


Douglas

Re a recent observation here. Shostakovich was an experimental, daring young composer until Stalin attended a performance of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk in 1936. Thank God for Mumma. She nourishes us, and feeds us, and gives us to sup. Mumma Gumma.

No, that was Pink Floyd. Mummagumma is one of my favourites. I have the poster up in the hall.


Douglas