I missed writing yesterday’s morning report to the effect that I did indeed finish my two miles, in 11° and clear skies, with comfortable legs — which led me to the mistaken apprehension that we were in for a lovely day. Breakfasted with M., marked essays, tutorial at Oriel, lunch at Oriel, and started off to Regent’s for a quick look-in on my way to the NT Seminar with the brilliant Matt Novenson at Keble.
Sadly, as I left Oriel the light rain that had been descending gently felt a ripple of precipitative muscle and decided that ‘downpour’ suited its mood better. I was drenched to my skin. My shoes and socks were doused; I’d have liked to peel them off, but I’d have had to put them back on to walk to Keble and home, so that wasn’t on. I sat there, trousers dripping, feet squooshing, until at the end of the afternoon I made my way back home and changed clothes. I’ll tell you, that’s a kind of bliss: from clinging, sodden clothes to clean, dry clothes. A-a-a-a-a-ah.
Then to Billy Bragg’s concert at the O2 Academy up the street from us (a convenience we will never experience again, and a great source of joy). Uncle Bill was in fine form, with a set that skewed toward his early work, but mostly fresh political banter and earnest encouragement to keep doing what we can, without cynicism, in a vigilant resistance to fascism in all its forms.
I went to bed with tinnitus reminding me the reason I don’t go to concerts very often, slept like a very tired log, and ran this morning: 9°, clear, heavy heavy legs, so a modest pace, two more miles.
The Orioles won again last night. I won’t feel confident about the team till we have sturdy, reliable starting pitching, but it’s weirdly exciting to check the result every morning and to see them winning two out of three games, after so long when they were losing four out of five (so it seemed).