"Of course, it doesn't really matter whether we sent the blind dogs a cheque for twenty euros or five million, they won't have time to cash it before the world ends anyway."
"No, and the dogs won't have time to undergo their training either."
One of several such conversations.
" Be funny if it did happen though, wouldn't it? We'd be laughing on the other side of our faces then..."
There have been some numerogical weirdnesses, not only will tomorrow be 21/12, palindromic, today is 20.12.2012, and the other week was the 12th of the 12th of the 12th. Which also happened to be my birthday, don't know if this gives me any privileges in apocalyptic terms.
I had a nice day or two but forgot to take the camera out when we went up to the seaside to eat, because the weather was so frightful, I didn't really want to go out at all but Tom said he'd drag me out by the scruff if necessary. And it turned out rather lovely, with sun breaking through the mist and shining off the wet sand, and the little lighthouse on the harbour wall all looking pastel and sculpted, and distant flashes off the waves beyond. The deserted terraces were rain-washed and puddled and sodden, the viviers were drained and empty of crustaceans, but inside the restaurant was cosy and warm, and I ate crab maki and fried sea bream with winter squash confit, and the crême brulée had bits of broken gingerbread on the top which tasted Christmassy.
And I came into my internet radio which means I no longer have to choose in the kitchen between the under-shelf task lighting and The Archers, plus I've discovered a non-stop early music station with a rolling display of what they're playing. It's like some early music nerd's i-pod on shuffle, which may well be what it is.
So in the expectation that I will be able to get through all the submissions before the end of the world, Alphabet Soup continues, with