An ember in the dark

The Gnome off today, and a day of uneventfully writing copy, and thankful for the fact I actually had a decent night's sleep the previous night.

For lunch I decided to go swimming again for the first time in ages. It was great to be back in the water. And my skin seemed to just about hold up and not go into a major itchathon afterwards. I have become depressingly porcine again, so I reckon itching is marginally better than oinking. Slapping on huge amounts of moisturiser right away helped, although clearly isn't the butchest thing you can do in the changing room.

In the afternoon heard an interesting speech by Dame Mary Marsh, who is the director of the NSPCC - about herself and her work. She has set Gordon Brown (apparently "Gordon" to her) the challenge making violence to children (i.e. smacking) illegal in his first 100 days. Interestingly, she reacted strongly to the suggestion that the UK had more child abuse proportionally than anywhere else, suggesting it may be better reported here.

Listening to the Phaedo now, which contains the death scene of Socrates. If you don't pay too much attention to the arguments that are propounded, there is something very moving about someone being faced by their own death, still clinging to the practice of being a philosopher and encouraging his entourage to keep up the good work: like someone blowing on an ember in a dark night.

Home, laundry, washing up etc. Gradually reasserting control over the material world.

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