Slam-dunk!

Congratulations to my golf-mad dad for getting his third ever hole-in-one last week. This one was particularly pleasing as it pitched straight into the hole: no superfluous, namby-pamby bounces for Dad!

Hot date

As you might have gathered, Stense and I went out on a hot date on Tuesday night (photos here). Stense spent the whole evening mentally undressing me. Don't you just hate it when they do that? WHAT AM I: A PIECE OF MEAT?!

My social life is one crazy whirl at the moment: we went to the same pub that I had taken Carolyn to just four nights earlier. The landlady gave me a funny look as she came to collect our glasses. I don't think she was mentally undressing me. Well, I bloody well hope not.

"Be honest now," I asked the landlady, nodding at Stense, "which do you prefer, this one, or the other one? I can't make up my mind."

The landlady was too polite to venture an opinion.

"Your son has been totally out of order this evening," Stense informed my dad when he came to collect us.

"He gets it from his mother," said Dad.

Flat Earth News

John Lanchester (London Review of Books): Riots, Terrorism etc

Nick Davies's Flat Earth News [...] is a genuinely important book, one which is likely to change, permanently, the way anyone who reads it looks at the British newspaper industry.

A really interesting piece. It sounds like a great book. I'll certainly be buying it.

Postscript: I did indeed buy it. Review here.

Maverick?

Guardian: 'Enjoy life while you can'

[James] Lovelock has been dispensing predictions from his one-man laboratory in an old mill in Cornwall since the mid-1960s, the consistent accuracy of which have earned him a reputation as one of Britain's most respected - if maverick - independent scientists…

For decades, his advocacy of nuclear power appalled fellow environmentalists - but recently increasing numbers of them have come around to his way of thinking…

"You're never going to get enough energy from wind to run a society such as ours," he says. "Windmills! Oh no. No way of doing it. You can cover the whole country with the blasted things, millions of them. Waste of time."

(My emphasis added.)

All quiet on the Preston front

From an online chat with Carolyn last week (edited slightly for brevity, with typos corrected):

Carolyn: We're going to get about 3 Black Rock chicks in a couple of weeks. The farmer is a right Yorkshire man. He was very put out when I asked for day old chicks and asked if they had to be exactly 1 day old. When I asked him what age he was thinking of, he said 'Well, they're only day-old for 1 day - would you mind if they were 3 day old?' - When he said that, I could see his point. He also informed me, obviously having decided that I was a bit naive, that the chicks would be the size of an egg when they hatched and therefore I wouldn't need a giant box full of hay and sawdust for just 3 of them! He's going to sell me 'eater' [heater] and as long as I've got 'eater' I can have as many as I want! He wasn't impressed with my idea of taking a hot-water bottle for the car journey. I'm looking forward to meeting him - he sounds great fun - a bit like those farmers on the old James 'erriot programmes.

Me: Where does he live?

Carolyn: eeee, ee's a long way... Up near Preston in a place called Much Moor or something. I've forgotten now. In fact someone from t'Wirral 'ad just phoned 'im before I did and they though it was too far to go.

Me: If he's from near Preston, then he's Lancashire, not Yorkshire!

Carolyn: Well, they sound very similar. It did say Lancashire on the address somewhere. Maybe he moved when he got married about 40 years ago and retained the accent.

As usual, you can't fault Carolyn's logic.

Prince of Farts

BBC: Charles proud of returning Harry

Prince Charles has spoken of his "great relief" at the safe return of his son Harry, after 10 weeks with his regiment on the frontline in Afghanistan.

That's as may be. But he's still a nasty little ginger shit who bears an uncanny resemblance to Major James Hewitt (rtd).

Wonder if any of our rare harriers have been downed in Helmand Province recently. Cherchez le prince!

White rabbits

Carolyn and I went out for a meal and a drink last night. It was 29th February, but she forgot to seize the opportunity. Her loss.

There was a big birthday party at the table next to ours, with balloons saying 60 and 15. It took us about three hours to realise that they referred to the same chap, who was in the process of receiving an inflated-fairy-gram.

Don't ask.

Number four?

I saw Carolyn briefly on Tuesday. It was at the end of a week-long cold-snap. Carolyn had not enjoyed the cold weather and had taken to wearing four pullovers.

She told me how she'd bumped into a friend in town. "You're not expecting another one, are you?" he had asked, totally seriously.