I’ve very much enjoyed having a week of not much, but I can’t keep doing it. Sunday today. The fridge is well stocked. I spent the day pottering. A few messages in the morning and catching up a little bit with friends. A little bit of pirating with Brian in the evening, but by the time I logged on he was logging off so really we just sold his loot together. Then just the cycle of ways in which I let the time go by when I’m alone at home. We’ve all got those things, where you start doing it and then the hours zip by. I’m between books at the moment – just haven’t found one that captures my imagination. I’ll take recommendations. But there are plenty of distractions.
I was also just a little hungover. Only 4 pints. I’m a lightweight. Maybe it was the heat, but I felt slow. Last night was lovely. A social gathering, of all things. In a noisy bar way up in Finsbury Park. The thing with parties is that they redraw the connections. We have all been in little bubbles by government directive, but there’s a whole world of people out there, and arguably the more of them we spend time with and listen to the wider our perspective can be.
Old friends last night and many of them. Colonising a table, loud music, lots of laughter, moments of honesty, moments of connection. People I used to see so often, now with slightly different shaped lives but still the same. I think I was slightly fried by the whole thing and needed time to process, which is why I wrote about the tube. Maybe also I suspected I’d have a Sunday of not very much. Last night was the perfect segue from mostly just chilling out at home into poking at the world that’s waiting out there.
August. It’s just gone midnight. It’s still so hot, which I have no complaints about even though I’ve had to stick a fan at the foot of my bed.
My sheets were fresh on on Friday and I’ll probably change them again soon. If I don’t wash twice a day in this I start to pong. But yay summer! I won’t be able to keep the fan on overnight. Maybe I should just ditch the duvet for a top sheet like they did in Sardinia and in Greece. But the barometers are shifting. I can hear the wind picking up as I write, over the river. Summer is fleeting in this country. Who knows how much more we’re gonna get.
I’ve got my little hot toddy of Rakomel and honey in chamomile tea. It’s somehow already past 1am on August 1st. Time to switch that fan off and see how the sleep thing goes… White Rabbits.
AlBarclay 