Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com rockpool in the kitchen: saint scan

Thursday, June 30, 2005

saint scan

Granny is fed up with Haloscan; it refuses to acknowledge existance of some comments, fails to mention others on emails. Some it doesn't recognise either way. And she's paid for it....What's up? She gathers others are disillusioned too; Mark G for one. But according to his experience, if she does eradicate it - hard - all your lovely words will be lost; including the ones its fails to acknowledge. So now what? (Come back, Blogger Comments. All is forgiven.)

BBC news website has just come up with this - I mean what an achievement... I thought it meant Everest at least. I suppose if you're a balloonist... 'Duck a l'orange at 24,000 feet sets a record'.... Seems, according to something else today, that now feeding/housing ourselves doesn't take up all our efforts we have a lot of time to work out how to boost our self esteem by other means. Granny can think of less elaborate, less pointless ways - like feeding 500,000,000 million with less high-flying (in all senses) dishes; but there you go.

Granny tastes sour today. Maybe it shows. She will sweeten things shortly by attempting a honey and saffron icecream from Claudia Roden's Mediterranean cookbook. She might report on the result. Whatever it is; a 'distinguished' author, after all, can come up with 'disappointing' recipes/ mss/ whatever you like. Interesting contrast if you think about it of the effect of putting 'dis' upfront. What's in a prefix?

Everything is as far as the prefixes - and suffixes - on official documents are concerned. Try operating without them in Spanish society - where you have to carry identification with you at all times. If you don't have ID plus driving licence when pulled up for traffic offence/accident they jail you. Hence it WAS very nice of whoever ran off with Beloved and BBD's bags to put his residence card, driving licence etc in place from which they were likely to make their way home.

Second attempt to locate postman in northern town was otherwise as abortive as the first. Not because this time he - unlike his car his onions his coil of old rope - wasn't there. He was. But not the bags or their more financially valuable contents. The documents, neatly enfolded in Beloved's spectacle case - minus spectacles - had been dumped, the postman said, in the post box outside his this time open door. A kind of honour among thieves you might think. Camera, mobile, specs, sunspecs etc happily appropriated he had time to think about the inconvenience to his victims of their lack of official ID, all of it useless to him. Their non-reappearance would have entailed granny, as official, if not very good, translator, in hanging around a lot more official offices with not always obvious opening times. She is grateful, at least.

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