EDitorial ± 13-Nov-2006
Shrewd With The Crafty
This morning was milder than Penrod Pooch's manners. Funny that, I always thought his familiar name was Henry. Whatever did happen to that HKP wristwatch?
Less favourable heading home. Cyclist fella was on my tail from the get-go. He undertook me near the Heath shops. I cruised past him coming up to the control tower. He whizzed past me at the start of the Grange Farm cycle path. I motored past him at the second underpass. He bumped up on the pavement to take advantage of a pedestrian crossing, tut-tut. I sailed past alongside the Welcome To Ipswich sign and stayed in top, feeling the pain, to leave him behind. You don't get that driving along in your car, or at least you shouldn't.
Early evening treat to kick off BBC4's Science Fiction Britannia in the form of an old Dr Who starring Sean's dad, Mr Pertwee, or as The Boy calls him, number 3. Very first outing for Worzel as the man from Gallifrey, recovering in hospital after his regeneration and borrowing a mirror to admire his new features. As fascinating to watch for all the 70s paraphernalia: a trimphone, numerous old cars, and a strange looking sunken shower. Those plastic Auton figures, straight from the doll factory, are still disturbing too.
Which didn't really leave time to read about pyramids with The Boy, type up some percentage homework for Middler (felt her writing was too scruffy), cajole the printer into believing that it *didn't* have a paper jam, catch Jerry Seinfeld on The Daily Show promoting Bee Movie, make coffee, feel spooked by Spooks, then contemplate the kitchen after an earlier roast dinner.
And with Mark Radcliffe well into his first half hour, to start fitting a rear light to Wifey's boneshaker. At which point Ingvar's Law raises its head: how can the darn thing be upside down? Still, only 11pm, plenty of time to apply rational thought and fix it. Let's hope it stays put tomorrow.