A Century Of Isolation

A century of days, that is.

This morning began at 18°, full humidity and ultra pollen, and although I felt better than yesterday physically (knees fine, back fine) I opted not to try to push for speed under the palpable mugginess. As a result, my mile came in over ten minutes (10:02), about which I would feel better if it weren’t so… ten-minute-y. But goodness, it really did feel as though I were trying to run in a thin soup.

Morning Office, fruit breakfast (albeit with crumpet and Margaret’s triumphant blueberry bread), some work-related communications, and then another go at focused reading — another go that did not come off well at all. On the whole, a very distracted day. I did make a foray to Tesco on Margaret’s behalf at peak Friday shopping time, and observed very few people making even casual efforts to keep a meter-plus (‘plus’ other protective measures such as face masks); then to Sainsbury’s to pick up an item that Tesco lacked (which it turns out we had all along at home). Margaret prepared a tasty pasta dinner, and we watched a Hungarian (inexplicably advertised as ‘Nordic’) crime drama film called To The Wire, which you can probably by-pass unless you’re desperate for Hungarian cinema.

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