Mrs Hamilbutton has gone to perform at a gig, so I'm at home. On my own. I don't smoke any more, so that avenue of enjoyment is out of the window (still miss a smoke though. Sigh.) There's sod all on tele (unless you like Strictly Come Dancing) so I'm riding the crest of the digital wave, finding interesting stuff. And here's the first one of tonight, a tip-top mash up by Wax Audio (bless you, sir or madam) of Pink Floyd and the Bee Gees. It shouldn't work. It bloody does.
The weather – source of endless fascination, conversation, irritation and (just recently) excess irrigation. And a fidgety weather presenter on the BBC... I’m endlessly fascinated with the weather, and will confess to making sure I catch the BBC’s updates whenever possible. Not the local ones, where half the presenters look like they got dressed in the dark, or ITV, where they seem to know very little about actual weather, but the national forecasts. Delivered by actual Met Office personnel, their job entails a tricky mix of waving your hands about a bit, explaining about warm fronts without smirking, and trying not to look too pleased whilst mentioning gales force winds and torrential rain. Or stand in front of Cornwall. Each has their own presenting style, but there is one who intrigues me above all the others. Step forward, Tomasz Schafernaker, the 37 year old man from the Met who breezed onto our screens in 2001, as the youngest male ever to point out that it was going to r...
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