2009 — 14 February: Saturday
Back in mid-1980, Christa had a brand new car in which to transport a brand new youngster, her mother-in-law, and the unseen cameraman. We were in Saville Gardens to get some fresh air while dear Mama was having a little holiday with us:
Christa, Peter and dear Mama, 1980
It's 00:30, and I've just finished watching the first six episodes of the first season of Weeds — excellent stuff. Indeed, I'd already ordered the next two seasons last night on the basis of the first two episodes. We got season #1 back before Christa died, and we had tried just the first episode but agreed (as with Aaron Sorkin's "Studio 60") to shelve it in favour of other stuff in her limited time (she re-watched "Ab Fab", for example, and greatly enjoyed it — as far as I was concerned, whatever she wanted to watch, or read, or do, during her final illness was fine by me, of course).
She would have liked Weeds. I also caught a bit of the interview with Alan Ball. His new TV series ("True blood") looks most interesting. It's out in May.
G'night.
Brightly shining...
... and frosty. The web server is up and running, but not my access to it — Junior warned me last night that the email server is on the move, but said the web server would be unaffected. The JaguarPC network status page suggests all their systems are up and running, so I assume updates are working their way through the "Piranesi"-tangle of electric string. Source of the unusual adjective is elsewhere in this nice piece:
And let's not forget Sir Derek Wanless, assigned the even littler matter of mapping the future of the NHS. Among his conclusions were a recommendation to tax junk food (amazing how non-laissez faire these bankers are when it comes to people other than themselves), and lots of lectures about the public needing to "take responsibility" for themselves. We all have our limits, and I think being invited to consider the risks of a second portion of chips by a bloke who sat mutely on the Northern Rock audit and risk committee is probably mine.
She also reminds us that, since 1997, 23 bankers have received political honours — errant knights, indeed.