springlish sunshine! symphony of green and beige… neath crow caw, where the daffodils roam
Romanesque arch and Aeadrics sun dial… 1000 years after aedric becomes worm fodder still manages to remind me i’m late for work… nothing we will make shall show such robust durability
i should have been a PROFESSOR! ahh the bitter sweet wail of a singular pang of remorse
professor of whatever? something gestalt weltscmerz zeitgeist schadenfreude! professor emeritus of eurhythmy and yodelling at the university of uuulan bator
i’d be in my lair, surrounded by fusty old books of spells, the mild pong of real ale and stale ganja… with a view down through the woods to the sea beyond
actually ulan bator is probs some way from the sea?… so mbe hawaii! or totnes! occasionally i’d listen to birdsong, roll up my sleeves and saunter off through the spring succulence, to deliver a lecture
decided all this during my mid afternoon candlelit bath…
the life of a freelancer, ostensibly this whim had been to help ‘resolve issues with my javascript objects, how they can be recalibrated to hoover up the remaining bitBytes’
instead lounged in a pool of patchouli, awash with regret
off to yoga, but when i’m back, all nidra(ed) out, i shall rummage through the sea chest and dust off my certificate ‘bsc hons chemistry, third class, university of exeter 1987’
and ponder on all that might have been… possibly a bit bored?
happy st patricks day… the kids are half irish (plastic paddys!)… animal sings danny boy, marvelous… and such delicious sunshine! had thought to bunk off and head up the permaculture plot… but barreling on with coding (obv) x
‘big wheel keeps on turning’ 3rd puncture, second new inner tube in about a week… and i haven’t even got to seaford and back
bike punctures are like buses (or not like buses!), none for a year, then all at once
time to wield spoons, disembowel and rummage around midst its rubbery guts… the foghorns are a calling, that whale song bellow
looking at pic, could probs do with scrubbing my derailleur too… not a euphemism
curiously, on the rare occasions i do anything practical, involving a toolbox, like putting up a blind, bashing a screw with a hammer (yeah i got this!) i always feel like i am impersonating dad..
a strangely comforting mimicry, sure one day Finn will be cheerfully mirroring me