Boring holes

I was starting to wonder where the material previously taking up pothole space had gone as it doesn’t exactly melt, but before I could let my imagination go too far, I discovered the BBC have taken precautions against this kind of question and come up with this. See especially ‘How Potholes are Formed’ which was more interesting than I had thought it would be, in a Mayo kind of way.

The evenings won’t be the same in the kitchen without Chris Evans though. I didn’t have that much respect for him on TV, but he has gone up in my estimation and is likeable and naturally intelligent at jockeying all kinds of discs,  making everyone feel important. This is something I wish more people would devote time to. He even had a vicar on his first morning programme apparently (I forgot to tune in, but these things are documented…) and kicked off with the Beatles, so someone’s been doing their homework on scoring points in Radioland.

I really ought to listen to more Radio 2. It took me weeks to realise that Ken Bruce wasn’t an alter ego of Terry Wogan. And while I will never find Sir Tel as funny as some people do (does he pay them?), I do appreciate being able to run on auto-pilot and let the radio do the talking when I am dopily attempting to keep going as the pregnant mother of an excitable and imaginative toddler.

The set in the kitchen oscillates frequently between Radio 2 (for sanity) and Radio 3 (for connecting a neural networks: mostly mine I feel). I loved listening to Radio 4 growing up and in college, but the world service in Prague wasn’t as inspiring, and my husband won’t agree to wake up to people talking so it’s lost its edge. Somehow classical melodies are less aggressive when fighting the morning off. I do enjoy the humour though, so maybe I’ll be switching back to timing meals for 6:30 in the evening and putting Radio 4 on again then.

I wonder if radio waves exist in a vacuum? I’ll have to ask my husband. Somewhere a neuron or two are debating in my head about needing some kind of matter to carry the vibrations, but surely radio frequencies carry in space, and what’s there? Just a big hole, punctuated by matter?

You can see why I need the radio on so much. It stops me worrying about things I can’t let myself worry about. At least until Lily begins questioning me on science. Crumbs. I’m already digging a hole for myself.