Requiring a minimum of chatter
Just me and the dogs here, right now. The others are all out gallivanting, as my father used to put it. I had to find something to do that required a minimum of chatter, so I opted to watch a movie.
This evening’s choice? A little comedy involving the royals, if you will. A Royal Night Out is a fictitious look at VE night in London, with the two princesses off their leash for a few hours. No pretense of a documentary here; just two young ladies, completely at odds with the world around them, trying to find their way to a party. All in all, great fun. Now to find that soundtrack.
I’ve gambled on the postal service again, and this time I might lose my bet. There’s a parcel enroute between T.O. and here, and once again the possibility of strike action is real. Can I get my box here before the system goes into paralysis? Please? I’ve already paid my delivery tariff. I know, the folks with the heavy bags deserve so much more, but why do they (and we) always seem to lose, while the “boss class” get compensated for not very much? Rant off.
Followed a pop-up from Amazon, leading to really cheap VHF ham gear. Only if I live down south, apparently. I could get the microphone, and programming cable, and a better whip antenna, but the dealer won’t ship here. That kind of thing bugs me. We’ve lived under the umbrella of “free trade” for so long that most of us have no idea who actually benefits.
