Sunday Music *

* I really should think about renaming this weekly feature to “Monday Music”.

I confess, I was terribly lazy yesterday. I trawled youtube and always ended sooner or later with Cream, or something else the late John Symon Asher BRUCE (1943-2014) (Ger., Eng., website) did on stage together with various companions. But …
Today was the last day I officially was “absent due to illness”. I went to my ophthalmologist in the damn dark morning (coined by Savannah), she measured what had to be measured, found all developing well, and that was it. I’ll see her again in March. No reason not to drive.
My dispatcher greeted me with a deep sigh, and handed me the keys to an old banger that I had to take home & to swap with a colleague later, before the afternoon drive.
My colleague was not amused, because she had the top-notch modern vehicle that had come into service only some months ago. This brand new Ford does not smell of children’s vomit, but still like eau d’vehicle neuf. AND : It comes with an electric “ramp”, what is in fact an elevator for wheelchairs. I heard colleagues complain about this (“too slow, too complicated, generally impractical”), but I liked it today.
Another good invention is that the footstep under the right side sliding door comes out automatically when the door is opened. The older installation had to be pulled out by foot (or, especially in winter, when saltwater, ice and general road dirt blocked it) by hand. I do not know how often I sprayed WD40 or some such on the joints. My tiny framed co-driver complains that the door is too heavy, especially when she has to pull it shut from the inside, but now this is Hulk Mago’s job. So I know that this door is closed. And : No more ruined leather shoes, ha !
Transferring from the older to the brand new model showed me the notable improvements, like better soundproofing and noise reduction, better steering (not that the old would be something to complain about, but one can make things work better), better sound from the speakers : I find it pretty amazing what they did in this heavy modified commercial vehicle in this respect, it is not “opera house”, but crisp & clear. Crisp & clear is also the image of the rear view camera on the small screen – and since I have new glasses I can actually see what is depicted there, in natural colours, hey !
The other thing I noticed is how remarkably larger the whole carriage is, heavier too. The upside is that – at least as I drive it – the thing is absolutely unimpressed by side winds, rutting, bad road surfaces, whatever : This coach goes just where I point it. Feels like a fortress.
Tomorrow it will be back to the grind, getting up before anybody else and coming back home in the morning when a shy sun timidly tries to make us believe that there is still hope, and afternoons driving into the darkness while electric elks & reindeer helplessly blink in tiny front yards, spreading seasonal joy.
It’s raining.

Less than three minutes of pure beauty, Mr DAVIS gives us Générique (1957). I hope you like the music – may we all face a stress free & bearable week.



6 thoughts on “Sunday Music *

  1. Glad to learn that you like the music Z.

    “What a noisy bunch !”
    Bruno von Köln about Cistercians

    Thank you LẌ. I am still using eye drops, but that is it. It is healing remarkably fast.
    The idea of “less time pressure” is nice on one hand, but the downside would be that I would become even more unreliable – “Deadlines ! Bah, who needs them ?!” ME, I need deadlines ! Otherwise I would get nothing sorted, wrapped and shipped.

  2. I read with great interest what the different priories produce – from caskets to cookies ! Reminds me of the gift shop at the nearby monastery where they sell different “Klosterprodukte”, Chartreuse is always a nice gift.
    And I like your laminated card with helpful words – very practical LẌ !
    I guess that for members of the Lay Order of St.Veit / Vitus anything deep-fried is not on the table ? So careful with the codfanglers …

    Glad to learn that you like Mr Davis’ work, dear Eryl.

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