August 2004 Archives

The local weather report is lately prefaced by so many apologies, and so thoroughly riddled with qualifiers, that it’s tough to tell just what the day’s weather is actually supposed to be.

“Not nearly as nice as it ought to be,” is how the weatherman sheepishly started his routine Sunday. By the end, he was preaching stridently about how things could really be “much, much worse”. The end result, I found, was one of those days where it’s too brisk for a T-shirt, but you’d sweat when wearing a jacket.

I suppose this can’t all be the meteorologist’s fault; things are uneven, recently. It’s like George Lucas was allowed to direct England’s climate — not original-Star-Wars-George-Lucas, but lame new-trilogy-George-Lucas — so that we see only occasional admirable moments, an hour of warm sunshine glimmering on the Cam, maybe, but it’s mostly grey dross and unremarkable rain showers.

Hey! You know the one restaurant in town that never seems to make it? The name changes, the menu’s shuffled somewhat, and day-glo vinyl banners proclaim Grand Reopenings, Under New Management, and so forth… just for a few months, until everything goes dark, again?

Yep, and so it goes with this oft-mothballed blog. Still the same management, alas, but other items are moving around — us, namely — as we’re translocating to England.

It’s a year move, at least, and we’re allowed just four suitcases. All are empty, at the moment, save for a single frying pan that’s nestled in one. (Experience has taught us that most furnishings can be cheaply IKEA’d across Europe; obtaining well-seasoned, hard-anodized kitchenware is another story.)

Our saucepan might be a nice addition, too, but unlikely. I’m considering wearing one, Johnny-Appleseed-style, right onto the plane. (“What ma’am? Oh, it’s my Calphalon Safety Helmet. They say Chairman Kaga wears one made of gold, you know.”) But then, what if the overhead luggage spot fills? It’s hard enough to sleep in Coach Class, as is… could be uncomfortable.