Cut and roll
Don’t panic. That warning of intense thunder storms with a possibility of hail and a tornado touchdown is just to wake you from your slumber. This is Canada, in June. We don’t get weather like that.
I was inside, so there wasn’t much shock and awe. In fact, given that the office was in a quiet mode, I took a spool of speaker wire and reconditioned it, into three dipoles. Preparation for some quality radio time, if I finish the job. You know; rigging up a centre insulator and feedpoint, testing for resonance with the antenna tuning gadget, attaching suitable feedline (which is still in transit from somewhere south of here). With a long weekend in view, I might get down to it.
Actually, the thought of standing in one of those silly glass huts over at the university campus for forty minutes in an electrical storm (with antenna parts as an added attraction) served as incentive to mooch a ride home. Can’t he too committed to public transit in such troubled times.
And now I’m here. On a Friday night. Watching another rerun of TBBT. Guess my tastes have changed from back in the days when the strip in ‘Town meant fun. Now I just sit and ponder (and listen to another approaching thunder storm).
The provincial government has done it again. This time around, a guarantee of a $ 58 million loan to the owners of a hole in the ground, so that “we” can export tons of rocky fibre to parts of the world that don’t understand how cancer isn’t good for you.
