Daily Office: Wednesday
Morning
¶ Yet More Mad Max: I may have spoken too soon yesterday. Now I’ll seem obsessive. But I really have to had it to Britain’s most interesting plaintiff.
Unlike many high-profile figures caught in embarrassing sexual adventures, Mr. Mosley has chosen to make a fight of it.
NoonÂ
¶ Bizarre Attack: Unidentified assailants attacked the police detachment outside the US consulate in Istanbul, leaving three dead on each side.
Night
¶ Temps Perdu: Good grief! I’ve spent the past half hour trying to locate a swimming hole in New Hampshire! It was a favorite spot — twenty-nine years ago.
Oremus…
Morning, cont’d
§ Max. That’s the Mitford spirit for you — certainly his mother’s spirit. Diana never did repent her association with Goebbels & Cie. Mistakes were made, yes, but on the whole….
Of course, it’s beyond maddening that Decca can’t be one of the reporters. One can just imagine the verbal frolic that her nephew’s antics might have inspired.
Noon, cont’d
§ Attack. The gunmen don’t seem to have attempted to enter the consulate grounds, so the object of their mission is altogether unclear. Compared with a cluster of incidents in 2003, in which 62 people were killed, today’s event is not terribly significant in itself, but investigation may change that.
The final paragraphs of Alan Cowell’s report (written with Sebnem Arsu) will give you a very handy capsule of the current state of Turkish affairs.
Night, cont’d
§ Temps Perdu. It was the summer that I clerked for my uncle (an unpaid job, quite rightly) in Wilton, New Hampshire. At lunch time, I would drive up toward Wilton Center and, following a route that I couldn’t have described on pain of death, eventually headed down a dirt track. You parked where the road gave out, and then walked a bit — not far. It was definitely the coolest place in town, and I’m talking temperature. (Thanks, as usual, to kottke.org.)