Last night El Dorado Regional Park turned out to be closed by the time I got there. I stopped instead by Chess Palace, where I got a book on 1...b6 that I won't need (but buy to support the store), yet there were sadly no people with whom to play. So I started driving back to my hotel. I found myself on Knott Avenue, which I knew is also the home of the "lesser and thus greater" theme park, Knott's Berry Farm. I imagined myself taking an evening stroll among its delights.
I cell phoned the park, and waded through the voice mail system. The park closed at 7, so it made no sense to go there. But the real enlightenment was park admission. Forty five dollars. Theme parks simply amaze.
We don't get BBC America where I live, so I only sporadically get to see "cash in the attic", the odd show in which experts rummage one's things, hunting for enough to auction to raise, say, pounds for a golf club set. Last night, I fell asleep early before I got to see if we earned enough money selling medals for flying lessons. I woke up at 2 in the morning, by which time the show had cycled back on. The rowing team oar carried the day.
This show is nearly as good as the one in which couples spend 100 pounds each on things for antique auctions, and then watch as their salt shakers go unsold and their tribal masks enrich them. If I let people in my attic, we'd auction for peace, hope and two tickets to Knott's Berry Farm.