chrishansenhome

I still have a hacking cough today, so I gave the free ticket to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert to HWMBO, who is enjoying it right now as I type. I am just hoping that the cough improves enough by tomorrow (it's a bit better today) so that I'll be passed fit for my operation next week. Thanks to the Atlanta Circumciser, who is a dear friend and a great lunch companion, for the ticket. Maybe someday he'll let me buy lunch.

I am apprehensive about this preop assessment tomorrow. I always hate being in hospitals, and I'm apprehensive in particular about continuing infection and the possibility of picking something virulent up while I'm in there.

I think it's unlikely that Michael Ipgrave or Giles Fraser will be appointed as Dean of Southwark next week, for various mechanical reasons. If there is no announcement next Tuesday, Michael will be back in the picture.

I have been slothful today, and only ventured as far as the mailbox to pick up our post. This is bad, as I've been alone and brooding about the impending operation.

I am listening to Evening Prayer for the feast of St. Alfred the Great, by Fr. Jonathan Hagger. It's quite good, and if you appreciate eclectic worship, go on over there and have a listen.

I'm about to go to watch Sir David Attenborough's latest, Frozen Planetabout the poles. He didn't travel much for this one; he mostly narrates from the studio. But I'm told that everyone thinks it's first rate. And his voice is something else; I would listen to him read the phone book (do we still have them?) just to hear his voice. He reminds me of Alexander Scourby in that his voice is suited to his work. I kept thinking "Alexander Schreiner" but he was the organist for the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City and didn't have a "speaking" part. Does anyone remember either Alexander these days?

I enjoyed Frozen Planet—it was, of course, formulaic. We had the obligatory sex scene (between two polar bears) and the obligatory death scenes (wolves after a bison, and killer whales after a seal). But the photography is stunning. I do have a bone to pick, in that they don't use the whole hour. In order to tailor it for the US commercial market, they end it at 48 or 49 minutes and then have a "Making of" feature showing the photographers doing their thing. One presumes that the "Making of"s will be packaged as an additional hour (plus commercials) in places that show commercials.

I am tired; it is time for bed. Tomorrow will be stressful, being an entire day at the hospital. I do not look forward to it.

I woke up this morning, came downstairs, ate breakfast, got the computer ready for work (working at home today). Then I looked out the back door, and there was a huddle of clothing on the ground. I opened the door and examined it.

Now, those of you who are Londoners or familiar with London will know that in the morning it's quite common to see puddles of vomit on the ground, usually from the drunken sots who pour out of the pubs at 11 pm or later. However, this pile of clothing came from someone who was (to be euphemistic) taken short without access to a toilet. It wasn't badly soiled, but it was, well, shitty (not to mince words). One pair Umbro sweat pants, sixe XXL, and one pair boxer shorts.

Now, being well able to wear and appreciate size XXL sweat pants, I decided that the thing to do was wash them. They are now good as new and drying.

Is this kinky?

Answers on a postcard, please.