COVID World, Day Twelve

Still arctic in the morning: 1°, with harsh breezes, felt like -2° according to the BBC. My limbs were in rebellion for all the warm-up; it felt as though I had never run before in my life (‘What are these strange motions you are imposing on us?’). Nonetheless managed a 10:18, pushing ahead so as to ‘do it for the sake of doing it, not for time’.

This morning I continue manicuring my music database, and in the midst of that I discovered the NME top singles lists for 1977-81. I was obliged instantly to make playlists for them, and have already compiled them for ’77, ’78, and ’79. Early report: NME and I are much more aligned for 1977 than for the other years, and I have some surprising, some embarrassing, some predictable holes in my collection. This isn’t very informative (cos the number of entries on each year’s list varies), but just as a rough indicator, my 1979 list has 29 songs, 1978 has 20, and 1979 has 18. I am not rethinking my life choices. (Margaraet is in the top floor room working on an article.) Now, I have schoolwork to do, then lunch, and perhaps more playlists after lunch.

As I typed my comments on essays, I noted that my hands have begun to look more wrinkled than they have previously. I’m getting old guy hands. I had ample opportunity to look down at my hands this afternoon, as not only did I have the essays to mark, but I also got a last-minute academic administrative request for an approval note that must be written today! Isn’t life jolly?

After a delicous dinner of vegetable risotto, we spent the evening (re-)watching episodes from the first season of Spooks a/k/a MI-5.

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