1st November and Cop 26
Fri 15/10 -life is a cabaret.
Did my LFT. Made porridge for Y and me. Provided taxi service and cleared Y room. Put on one load of washing and sorted two more loads for tomorrow. Washed up and noticed more dishes silently gathering. Looked at dusty carpet. Shuddered. Took glasses off and looked again. Much better.
Fed and stroked cat. Admired plants and examined baby pumpkin for signs of growth. Wrote list for this afternoon’s exciting activity. Mopped up bathroom after Y’s shower. Seems a lot already and it’s only 0959. Back to bed with tea, toast and Jack Reacher for an hour.
So, 58. Big pants.Knee cartilage not great – ironic as I’ve been walking more. Lethargy, sloth resemblance and irritability.
I’ve found Dial-a-poem which will give me different poems that you have to ‘dial up’ using a picture of a traditional telephone. This makes me happy. I have also used Strava which forces me to go out walking regularly. If not, there could be dishonour… i am finding parts of the town that I didn’t know were there.
Have caught up with the compelling The Last Dance which documents the rise of Michael Jordan and the NBA Chicago Bulls. Didn’t want to like it but got hooked. Shocked and saddened by Jellyfish; and found that even in late 50s I could be open to, and change my mind about (somewhat), Mr Bean.
Love the Guangzhou Grand Theatre. It looks like a red meringue and is rather incongruous in its setting. On things Chinese, I read that The Avenue of Happiness in Beijing has 89 surveillance cameras, and that Deng Yufeng, an artist, gathered a group of volunteers to join him in his planned evasion of the cameras. They were successful but met with disapproval from the authorities.
I’ve been writing a little more poetry.
Heard this quote: ‘Truth is like poetry. And most people fucking hate poetry’. Overheard in a Washington bar, from the film The Big Shot. Liked the quote, enjoyed the film.
I’ve been listening to Gomez ‘Bring it on’ in the car. Very pleased to find a CD that I like ALL the songs (well, there’s maybe one song that I don’t like too much). Now trying to decide my favourite – think ‘Get miles’ might have the edge, but several great songs.
I am now a cat person. Had a kitten installed in April and have been amused by her antics. The war of the cones involves her bringing in all the cones from the top of the planters on the patio, and me taking them out again. She also steals green beans from the work surface and worries them.
So much for cat independence, she is my shadow, sharing the washing up duties and helping me work from home by trying to duet on the keyboard.
One of the best things I’ve seen recently is a Small Axe (Steve McQueen directs) film about a party. A good 10/15 minutes is spent on watching the partygoers dancing and smooching, and singing the track ‘Silly Games’ by Minnie Ripperton. Nothing else happens, just this. It’s really stuck in my head – not sure why. I also really liked the one about the cafe that kept being raided by the police and the black policeman who faced dislike from both other black people and his colleagues.
I’ve started reading the death notices in the local paper, and am relieved to see that the majority of deaths in this area are of those in their 83+ years. Heartening at 57! There were a few in their middle 60s this week which was not encouraging; and one lad of 20. Be grateful – I’ve had twice his life and then some.
Beavers are back! These ‘ecosystem engineers’ provide shelter for themselves from predators (no crocs here), turn land into rich habitat, and prevent flooding by slowing and filtering river water, improving the water quality as they go. Wonder creatures. Perhaps nominations for future prime ministers and presidents are due…
A peasant must stand a long time on a hillside with his mouth open, before a roast duck flies in.
I enjoyed this.
Lockdown II – time to join in.
Hugo Rifkind does a spoof diary entry in the Saturday Times – Boris Johnson features a lot. This one tickled me: ‘Friday Dom has gone. He left this afternoon, wearing a suit and carrying a cardboard box. And I think we all know that could easily have been the other way round.’
It induced my chuckle.
That same week, an article talking about illegal operations to implant drugs in breasts, in Colombia. The depths are truly plummeted…
To combat SAD, apparently the Icelandic have a saying/approach ‘Petta redast’ :
“Read a good book, and trust that ‘it will all work out.’ ” I am all for this approach and have done a lot of reading. Not that I need an excuse…
I am strangely comforted by the low murmuring of my Polish neighbours, in the darkness on a warm June night. I can’t tell you what they look like or what their names are. I haven’t spoken to them yet, although I have said hello to the woman when she took her child out the other day.
They live in the ‘unlucky house’ – noone stays there very long. Even in the relatively short time that I’ve lived there, there have been about eight changes of occupant. Different faces for the house to get used to.
My neighbours like the heat and seem to particularly like being outside. When I am bringing in the washing before I go to bed, or am just enjoying the warmth of the June night from the doorframe, I hear their exchange – male voices and laughter. I don’t understand what they are saying, and it doesn’t matter; I don’t want to know.
I find them reassuring: guardians of the night. Whilst I sleep, they will talk the night away; and ease into the morning.
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