Something almost being said
A beautiful summer's day. Up very early and working at home today - the briefing I was expecting didn't arrive, so I contented myself catching up with bits of admin, paying bills and other humdrummery and spreadsheets. Spoke to Anton this morning, who mysteriously burst a blood vessel in his eye during our walk and for reasons best know to himself is telling people that I punched him.
I just cannot settle at the moment, and have a restless and self-important feeling that there is something significant about to happen, although I have no idea what. Wandering about today with the sense of something almost being said.
Instead of hearing anything, I had an early afternoon swim, which helped with the restlessness. Then talked to a butcher about sustainability and plastic bags. Did nothing truly creative all day, all the while trying to remind myself that this is part of the ebb and flow of things, and spent some time looking idly out of my study window.
Spoke to Lorraine this evening who said that on her day's school excursion, she wore a lime green top, which attracted dozens of flying insects much to the horror of the schoolkids.
Have been reading Vic Reeves ME:MOIR Volume One. As the blurb says: "before there was Vic Reeves, there was a boy called James Moir, who was much the same as any other lad: obsessed with owning a pet crow, a master at writing his name and terrified of his father's immense moustaches." Turns out that this is a very entertaining memoir of childhood, and as he is a little under a year older than me, the details -- such as the rush of excitement of buying the NME on Thursday and reading it cover to cover -- are familiar.
Below a clip from the immortal Vic Reeve's Big Night Out, with Vic's comedy partner Bob Mortimer playing Graham Lister... And the view from my study at 8:53pm.
A beautiful summer's day. Up very early and working at home today - the briefing I was expecting didn't arrive, so I contented myself catching up with bits of admin, paying bills and other humdrummery and spreadsheets. Spoke to Anton this morning, who mysteriously burst a blood vessel in his eye during our walk and for reasons best know to himself is telling people that I punched him.
I just cannot settle at the moment, and have a restless and self-important feeling that there is something significant about to happen, although I have no idea what. Wandering about today with the sense of something almost being said.
Instead of hearing anything, I had an early afternoon swim, which helped with the restlessness. Then talked to a butcher about sustainability and plastic bags. Did nothing truly creative all day, all the while trying to remind myself that this is part of the ebb and flow of things, and spent some time looking idly out of my study window.
Spoke to Lorraine this evening who said that on her day's school excursion, she wore a lime green top, which attracted dozens of flying insects much to the horror of the schoolkids.
Have been reading Vic Reeves ME:MOIR Volume One. As the blurb says: "before there was Vic Reeves, there was a boy called James Moir, who was much the same as any other lad: obsessed with owning a pet crow, a master at writing his name and terrified of his father's immense moustaches." Turns out that this is a very entertaining memoir of childhood, and as he is a little under a year older than me, the details -- such as the rush of excitement of buying the NME on Thursday and reading it cover to cover -- are familiar.
Below a clip from the immortal Vic Reeve's Big Night Out, with Vic's comedy partner Bob Mortimer playing Graham Lister... And the view from my study at 8:53pm.
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