There was a Love Music Hate Racism event in Victoria Park today. I wonder if the BNP sponsors a similar event, Love Racism Hate Music. There would be lots of hanging around (by the exclusively white audience) and maybe some floats, but no music. Damn that music. Maybe that should be the name of their party conference.
Route: a slightly extended loop of Battersea Park plus the outward and homeward legs
Time: 31m 15s
Extrapolated 10km: 48m 27s
My good lady wife bought me a box-set of the entirety of Seinfeld episodes for Christmas. I’m watching them sequentially whenever I have a few spare moments. I’m currently almost halfway through the first of two sets of disks.
Anyway, Jerry gave his address in a recently-watched episode: Apartment 5A, 129 West 81st Street, New York, NY, 10024–7207. (The zip code I looked up on the USPS website.)
Now I’m sure there are lots of people who live or have lived in Jerry’s apartment block. Bully for you. Here’s a new competition: who has had multiple addresses, the average location of two or more of which is closest to Jerry’s apartment?
I’ll kick things off with two of my New York addresses: 7½ West 75th Steet and 189 West 89th Street. The midpoint of these two addresses is at the eastern end of Park West Hospital between 82nd and 83rd Street on Columbus, 110 metres from Jerry’s apartment. Can anyone beat that?
B&Q has a bizarre delivery charging policy:
- Up to £100 spent: £5
- Up to £200: £10
- Up to £300: £15
- Up to £400: £20
- Over £400: free
I have no idea why the additional spend incurs additional delivery charges, but that these are suddenly waived once you top £400.
A couple of new adjectives learnt from Andy last night.
Prolix means tediously prolonged or tending to speak or write at great length. And captious means tending to find and call attention to faults. I hope I can’t be described as prolix, but I’m certainly captious.
I watched a programme about child geniuses last night. Channel 4 has ben tracking them as they grow older, and they’re all around 13 now. With the odd exception, they were all annoying little shits. One girl and her family, who I remember from the last catch-up (their family celebrated 11 plus results as oposed to birthdays), was too busy with exams to partake this time. (I actually think the last episode left the poor girl so ravaged by bullying because of the fucked-up life her parents had engineered that they chose not to partake.) One other kid, Dante (what hope did he have in life) needed to be smacked so hard into next week, but his parents had no intention of questioning any one of his disrespecful, precocious ways.
My daughter picked up and ate a Cheerio (several, actually) for the first time yesterday, at the age of 12 months! I’ve written to C4 today to ensure she’s included in the next episode.
Imagine my surprise in walking into the room to find that my daughter had arranged her new bricks in her toddle truck such:
My wife does our food shopping on Ocado, a nice man arriving every two weeks with bags full of goodies. With each such delivery, a few bottles of Robinson’s cordial arrive, my wife wanting to capitalise on their being on special offer. (Buy one and get the second half price, or something.) The trouble is: the bi-weekly quantity purchased always exceeds the bi-weekly consumption.
Last night’s delivery brought our stock-pile up to 19 two litre bottles, plus the one that’s currently on the go. If there’s a war, come round to ours for soft drinks.
Our fire alarm test happens at 10.30am each Friday. A woman’s booming voice shouts over the tannoy, starting "May I have your attention please".
I tell you what: it scares the pants off you (not literally) when you’re in the bathroom at 10.30am on a Friday. I speak from first-hand experience.
(As an aside, the subsequent message to evacuate the building comes from a man. Not sure why the woman is deemed incapable of supplying this information. Maybe there’s a fear that no one will listen.)
Pretty shit day in the office today. Some of which has been offset by listening to Take That’s Shine on the bus. Oh. The Ramones’ Baby I Love You has just kicked in. All is forgotten.