Wednesday, 25 March
Not a great day. A very slow start but I was pleased about having a non-dairy breakfast. Every time I return from India, I vow to continue the vegetable breakfasts which seem to suit me. And every time, I slump back into over-consumption of dairy products, Swedish “fil” replacing coffee as existential punctuation. At least today I managed to haul myself over inertia mountain and have porridge and a boiled egg. Some teething problems – I was indecisive about whether it was to be a soft-boiled or hard-boiled egg and adopted a middle course, which was kind of messy. But the porridge worked well and should save money – providing I can resist the temptation of cloudberry jam abuse, which is a big if.
It was late before I got moving, almost 11.00. I didn’t exactly fritter time but it dribbled away, sorting out a credit invoice, doing a few picture captions as a late addition to the real estate company annual report I’ve just done and sending a quote to a museum, which was accepted so that I have work to do tomorrow.
A bit of technical work when I revived Skype from the dead on my phone. It’s been a long time since I used it – we mostly use Messenger in the family these days for video chats. My memories of Skype are not that bright – Charlie Chaplin-type scenes where I couldn’t hear or be heard, which I want to avoid this time. And then a pleasant chat with my younger son, which brightened my mood.
After lunch, I wrote to a friend in Scotland, whom I’d been meaning to contact for a long time, spurred on now by receiving a kind letter from him concerned about how I was getting on in the land of herd immunity (Sweden’s reputation abroad is not so great just now). I reassured him that I was doing all the sensible things I could do. However, I have to improve my act when it comes to surfaces where the virus might survive – for example, on grocery packets coming into the flat (my “clean area”). So maybe I have to be more consistent about wiping things down with soapy water. And in general being more systematic about the interface between potentially contaminated and clean areas.
A swing up to the recycling centre and back but it’s not a great distance. I’ll have to make space for a more substantial walk tomorrow – I recognise the vague feeling of being not at one with the world, which I get when I exercise too little.
And then about an hour and a half unexpectedly lost when I dug out an old translation for a customer who needed it. That’s what you get for answering the phone…..snake rather than ladder time.
In the evening, I finished my pile of old London Reviews. Not so five-star as the one I got stuck into yesterday. Today, I learned the meaning of blowhard (a boastful or pompous person) and purpura (blood spot, haemorrhage), vacuumed my daily ration of shelves and that was about it. But no article that set me on fire so this time the recycling bin got a refill.
The days are ticking away and if I’m going to fulfil a fraction of my plan, something magnificent has to happen soon. I have to open the throttle tomorrow. I’m generally much more sedate these days as behoves a 70 plus person. But I like to race away from time to time, to feel piles of tasks melt away in a buzz of adrenalin, to be a Wagnerian wordmonger rather than a Mozart meanderer.
And now I see that it’s 01.44 in the morning. How the hell did that happen – it was 10.30 about ten minutes ago…..