One of my friends came over to Ely yesterday and we spent a lovely morning looking around the cathedral and chatting over coffee. I hadn’t seen her since before the pandemic, but she’s one of those people with whom you can pick up – not where you left off, because we were both in different places back then, but where you are now.
I tripped (over a paving slab, perhaps, or just over my own feet); fortunately the only damage seems to be a sore knee.
A decision with a deadline, which was dependent on someone else’s decision, which might or might not have been made by the deadline. In the event it was, but I spent a lot of time this week muttering, ‘Someone’s got to drive the bloody train‘ and trying to discern what the right thing to do would have been had the other person not got back to us in time.
The difficult and perplexing
I overdid things last weekend – or all through the week before, really. This week has been a washout. I am telling myself that this is in fact quite different from my post-Covid convalescence: even if doing anything results in falling asleep on the sofa later, at least I am doing things.
Sleeping with a pillow between my knees. Changing down a gear lower down the hill (this may also be a metaphor, who knows?)
Michel the Giant: an African in Greenland (Tété-Michel Kpomassie, translated by James Kirkup). This was a Christmas present from one of my brothers. So far the author has made it to Denmark. I’m reminded of Patrick Leigh Fermor and his endless letters of introduction as he crosses Europe, although Michel is doing a lot more work along the way.
The corner of doom between the kettle and the toaster.
Strade Bianche! I hope that poor frightened horse was OK. Various winter sports, all of which I’ve been falling asleep in front of.
The cathedral, including some chapels at the east end I hadn’t been in before.
Winter vegetable ragout (slow cooker) – turned out more like chunky soup with a pastry hat. Today I’ve been testing the yoghurt function on the Instant Pot. The result is very runny but tastes and smells like yoghurt.
Nothing terribly interesting. Yesterday’s lunch was a fish finger sandwich with some very nice chips at Riverside Bar and Kitchen.
An actual dust bunny (see picture at top of post) on the bathroom wall.
In the garden
The tulips are looking lively, no thanks to me. I find that plum trees should not be pruned, so I shall leave them be – apart from the branch that gets you in the eye when you take things to the compost bin.
Friends. Fellowship. Flop.
A gizmo to go with another gizmo we already have promised to us. Two trays, two tubs, and two bottles, to keep the doom out of the corner of doom (well, we can hope).
To be able to go out for a simple little 50 minute walk and then to be able to stay awake through the rest of the day.
Line of the week
Tété-Michel Kpomassie on the customs he grew up with:
We are brought up in the belief that anyone appropriating an article covered with such signs risks the vengeance of Hêviesso, the lightning god, or of Sakpatê, the earth goddess – represented here by the tuft of grass or the handful of sand – whose punishment comes in the form of smallpox (unfortunately, she forgets that it’s contagious).
This coming week
Nothing very much out of the ordinary. I need to work out how to get to an event on Saturday, and also make a start on writing my lay director’s report.
Anything you’d like to share from this week? Any hopes for next week? Share them here!