I’m writing this on the train home from York: I’ve had a lovely weekend, using the fact of delivering training in Leeds as an excuse to stay with my friend A (and spare my employer the expense of a night in a hotel). We’ve been drinking tea and chatting and playing board games.
Still very tired. But it could be worse: it could have been long COVID, and it isn’t. Another couple of months and I’ll start feeling more human. In the meantime there’s the sofa and a blanket and the cat.
The difficult and perplexing
The awkwardness of mistaking a traffic light for a bus stop and trying to get through a crowd of people who, it turned out, were also trying to get off the bus…
New standing desk thingy, though I’m spending some of the time seated, with everything moved down a shelf or so.
It’s been a week for finishing books. Coastliners (one of those books that took a while to get into and then got gripping); Sisters of the Vast Black (continued to be excellent all the way through; a book about doing the right thing despite everything including the futility of it all; had to spend a few minutes staring into space when I got to the end); Changing Planes (Ursula Le Guin; a Gulliver’s Travels for the jet age; started ages ago, but it’s more a collection of vignettes than a single narrative, so bore dipping into). Then I reread The Moving Finger on the train up to York on Friday evening.
None, but I’m counting the Leeds excursion as research for the Romeo and Juliet thing.
Secret patchwork things.
Eurosport. Mostly skating.
Hear My Voice: an exhibition of art by refugees at Ely cathedral.
Half a Fat Rascal (apparently a Yorkshire thing, maybe specifically a Betty’s thing: a sort of spiced scone with dried fruit and almonds on the top). Just the thing for a Sunday breakfast. Today we went to Trinacria on Bishy Road for lunch; I had an extremely large pizza Vittoria (fennel, tomatoes, sausage, mascarpone).
Pandemic. We made a pretty good team.
Fireworks in the sky as I looked back over Leeds, with a sunset squashed under black rainclouds. Square grey stone housing and elaborate Victorian red brick Gothic. Rainbow in the east. Deer in the fields outside Ely.
Seat reservations. Friends.
Line of the week
From Changing Planes:
The people sing at the campfires, and the quiet singing hovers in the darkness between the little fires and the stars.
This coming week
A couple of days of work and then a few days off. Maybe I’ll do some writing. Maybe I’ll catch up on sleep.
Anything you’d like to share from this week? Any hopes for next week? Share them here!