UTAH: “Why do husbands usually die before their wives? Coz they want to!” says Payton L. Inkletter, noting that ten wives would’ve meant sudden death.

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

24^th September 2009:

Thursday: My plan to arise by one was sunk by feeling so tired it would have been dangerous, so I got the Celtic crocodile to leave me till three, then till half five, effectively killing our tentative plans to visit the local major shopping centre in search of a blender, and petrol, and various bits and pieces. The bastards, by the way!: coming home yesterday from Guildford, I felt no pressure to get petrol while it was cheap, for the word was that it still had a few cents to drop given the current world and local circumstances; I hadn’t factored in the long weekend though had I?, and the inevitability of the bastards putting up the prices just before the weekend, which is precisely what is starting to happen.

So one of the reasons to go with the chalky crocodile shopping today was to get fuel from the local Woolies, which Fuelwatch’s emails have informed me are among the lowest around. It was too late for us both to go, so I left just before six to post a get well card and 20 plus photo prints to Mum in hospital in time for the day’s mail clearance, and instead of Woolies I went to the closer Shell-Coles Express for fuel – a bit dearer, but how I hate the queues down at Woolies – then dashed into the nearby Narvey Hormone to look at blenders; the one I want wasn’t there, so maybe tomorrow on the way to Bob’s.

I took vittles around to The Dear Leader, then the domestic blissard fed me mine, and we watched My Beloved, Kezza the Great, and Catalyst, except that I missed the first segment of this latter while I was phoning Mum for an update: still no specialist visit to tell her what’s needed for her abdomen pain. Just when I wanted to dash to the computer to research and write for an hour, the crafty crocheter insisted I find another pile of videos online about hyperbolic crocheting, and then she sat and watched them, kissing goodbye to that hour for me; we need two things: a second pootah on a network, and a missus who can use a computer adequately on her lonesome ownsome; “The mouse is too sensitive, I hate it!, “Come and find this Darls”, “What do I do now?”.

Q&A was worth watching, and my word how disciplined tonight’s show was! Anthropologist Peter Sutton was given the opportunity several times to give detailed answers uninterrupted, and his analysis was certainly a mind stimulating thing. To my pleasant surprise, former Foreign Minister Alexander Downer gave some mature and unusually petulant free comments tonight.

Next it was Lateline, so there was no going anywhere, except for a quick tinkle: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Looking ready to seriously interview, Ms Sales’ hair and face were just right, and her outfit was an attractive jacquardish diamond patterned jacket; and tonight’s interview was with a favourite interlocutor of mine (not personally unfortunately, for I’m not famous enough), Niall Ferguson, who waxed wise, under Ms Sales’ pertinent questioning, on the global banking system and its persistent problems, despite the upheavals of the past twelve months. Mr Ferguson looked great also, in his light green jacket, blue shirt, and dark blue tie: in fact, his style was quite a refreshingly successful departure from the usual dark suit male brigade. His exposé on the where the toxic assets currently sit was sobering, and I think he makes a good point about the relative red herring that bankers’ salary packages actually is, even though many of us find them unacceptable.

I like his line: ‘institutions that are too big to fail are too big to exist’, and I wish the G20 leaders would act less on the sexy stuff, like bankers’ salaries, and more on the real sources of the problems in the banking system. Mr Ferguson’s insights into China’s changing import export saving spending balance were arresting also, for who will keep funding the U.S.A.’s deficit lifestyle? He took full advantage of the opportunities Ms Sales gave him to expound uninterruptedly his cogent arguments, and it is another appreciated interview for my archive.

Missus Inkletter and I enjoyed Letterman’s Stupid Pet Tricks, as we always do, and my favourite was the dog that hopped into the luggage trolley.

I retreated to my sanctuary to write and research, and as usual the hours sped by.

+paytontedwithlove+