Yesterday I mentioned
that Leonard Nimoy had died. Overnight more and more tributes to the
character he played had sprung up on the Internet. Do people not
realise his first autobiography was entitled "I Am Not
Spock", he almost single-handely put the skids under the
proposed TV series "Star Trek Phase Two" by
refusing to feature in it, then suddenly realising what money-spinner
Star Trek could be, he completely changed his tune.
Every single tribute (and
there are thousands of them) are about his character Spock. Not
one mentions his role in "Mission Impossible", or
the films he directed, or the five albums he recorded. He was far
more than just one fictional character.
It was a damp mucky
morning; we took "Furry Face TM"
round the Godinton estate helping with geo-maintenance. Whilst my
back as turned he found (and smeared himself in) the most
humungous pile of fox poo imaginable. We then walked a furter two
miles through the mud and rain with the stinkiest dog imaginable.
The dog in question
seemed happy enough though.
We came home and stinky
had a bath. Three seperate shampoos and hose-downs to remove the
worst of the smell. We then wrapped him in a blanket and settled him
down and went to Folkestone. A quick bite of Subway for lunch
(chicken tikka; very tasty) and then on to visit "Daddies
Little Angel TM". Smallest grandchild was
cute; his big brother claimed to be very strong and attempted to beat
me up. I claimed he was very weak, and we wrestled for much of the
afternoon. He wasn't that weak really, but I would never admit as
much to him.
Home; a quick tidy-up,
and then we had a game of cards. Three rounds of Texas; three rounds
of Omaha. I was knocked out of both. Things mightt have been
different had there been a nine in the putative straight, but you
can't have everything...
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