Sunday, January 25, 2015





Pluck Henry Green's Blindness off the shelf which - I am ashamed to say - I have never actually read (despite finding an old letter from O. sent from Kuwait dated just after the Falklands War & a strip of The Times Newspaper acting as bookmarks in amongst the pages - the Picador 3-to-a-volume edition which I never liked).

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Morning jog: the planned two laps of the Hippodrome are abandoned once I realise it's like a skating rink. Instead, I head off on the usual circuit of the woods & but for a few patches it is safe enough. 22 mins for 3km which, in the circumstances, seems OK.

Rumour has it the pool will open on the 1st April (not, I take it, a joke). So plenty of time to refine the running technique (apparently I have a rather deliberate stride - intellectual, even - that's according to Mme. Waffle who was walking behind me).

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In this icy weather what else but Sibelius' Symphony no.4 (Karajan)? My father loved Sibelius - Morton Feldman & Glenn Gould, too. So I periodically make the effort. Maybe this time I begin to hear something ...

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. rrh'isOIV  ... a wasp just buzzed in through the Velux & went scrabbling across the desk & keyboard ... now up & ...