Walked my pedo to work even though pissling down, woolly hat etc. The poor little thing has been in the wars. It has been skittering all over the floor at the gym since it is only hanging by a belt clip. Worse, it fell in the oven when I was leaning over to pull out oven tray. A little melty, but my reflexes were quick so it lives to fight another day.

Was reminded of a beautiful song the other day “Song to the Siren” – This Mortal Coil. Liz Fraser from Cocteau Twins sings it.

Playing haiku with Sar. They are surprisingly hard to write.
Mine is:
No more to believe
I was nothing but a thing
No trust so no love

Loving The Bomb: A Life. It is all there – splitting the atom, Manhattan Project, scientists irradiating themselves, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Bikini Atoll, Marshall Islands, setting off bombs and frying poor Japanese fishermen who happened to be in wrong place at wrong time. One soldier told how they were near the bomb blast and could see the bones of their hand a la an x ray from the flash. Another story told how some cows had the hair scorched off their back and when it grew back it was colourless.

On that salutary note …