Monday, August 28
YEAR: 2017 | hot-air balloon | Irma | Michael Moorcock | Olivier Auber | Pixelache
I got up and cycled to Puotila in my cardigan, feeling as though I could usefully have worn a jacket. Fortunately Irma had dissuaded me from wearing shorts.
In the morning I had a Skype call with Olivier Auber who will have a performance at the Pixelache festival, which I have promised to provide technical support for. We play with his poetic image generator online and discuss the technical requirements for a live event. I also have a flurry of emails back and forth about the forthcoming Nobanet meeting and the scripts people need to prepare for that.
In the afternoon we have a Kulturmöte followed by another planning session with Jutta.
When I get home I do various household tasks and take the paper to the paper rubbish. I pick the remaining redcurrants and saw up a load more logs for our winter pile.
As I sit and read a Michael Moorcock novel Irma shouts that a hot-air balloon is hovering right over our house. I race outside and photograph it as it moves slowly away. It continues down the road at a height that just takes it over the roof tops. We wonder if it has a leak but as it reaches the end of the road it rises suddenly.
I think we have just witnessed daredevil ballooning.