T'would be a cold night should you forget your PIN

Last fall, when I told acquaintances that I'd be moving to England, many recalled the phenomenon of coin-operated electricity and heating, and remarked, jokingly, that they hoped it was no longer the norm. Well, you'll be pleased to know that you can now put money on a microchipped "key" at your local Co-op, which you then insert into the electrical unit. Perhaps this is the reason one British bank recently considered destroying a mountain of 50 p coins that were regarded as surplus.

Thanks for the comments, by the way. I like the sense of still being in touch (and it makes it look like I have lots of friends!). If anyone else is starting a blog, or has been keeping one under the radar, I'd be happy to add a link. Anyway, is everybody watching the Oscars tonight? I've never been particularly keen on them, but now that we don't get the broadcast I feel the absence acutely. What's the gossip, folks?

It's been a while since I've nearly died from laughter, but revisiting McSweeney's lists on this Oscar-less evening just shaved a few years off my life. (Click on the link and scroll down for endless fun, if you've got some time to waste. An off-kilter sense of humour will help.)

Poisoned Meringue.
(See "Methods other than song by which one can be killed softly")

Then again, Jeff didn't think they were that funny, so maybe I'm just giddy from all this grammar cramming (gramming? That sounds like a drug reference) in preparation for a job interview involving a copy-editing test. Yikes. Some concluding thoughts, apropos my recent studies:

"Devotees of grammatical studies have not been distinguished for any very remarkable felicities of expression."
--Amos Bronson Alcott

"Would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write a sort of broken-down patois which is something like the way a Swiss waiter talks, and that when I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split and when I interrupt the velvety smoothness of my more or less literate syntax with a few sudden words of bar-room vernacular, that is done with the eyes wide open and the mind relaxed and attentive."
--Raymond Chandler (to his publisher)