I appear to have entered the Feral Existentialism phase of our collective isolation. I was up late again last night, this time revisiting Broad City. It's a series about two best friends and their brazen, mundane travails in New York. It was irresistible last night, so I stayed up late watching it.
I've taken some advice to relax about not having a decisive plan of workattack truly and madly to my heart. Plus it's "Saturday". Woke up at around 8am and laid in. Wunderbar. I decided to get up. And, somehow, decided to do yoga in the nude and looking in a mirror. Let's just say it'd be a very different downward dog if I didn't have that gauzy curtain in my front room. It was great! I'd recommend it if you're flying solo (or have very tolerant roommates or a room of one's own in a family house).
Showered. Had breakfast. Took the sun in my front room. Popped a towel down and lay in the sun. Would love a swim.
I'd be happy if I came out of this alive with brown legs. I started listening to Disobedience by Naomi Alderman. I like the way it's holding my attention more than most audio books.
Then went back to the Jasmine of Doom and extricated another set of lumped roots. It's quite hard work, and was satisfying again, to pull the crap out of it and cut where necessary and dig out the dirt. The garden is much sunnier now.
Got a bit mansplained about gardening via email by the landlord. He doesn't know my gardening history, and cares very much about the bamboo. I idly wondered what most clashing shrubs I could possibly plant, just to be a shit. But actually, I'd love to plant a camellia or gardenia with lots of impatiens. I think that'd look good, but, it'd be one choosy bed.
I went for another ride. It was lovely. Popped east, down to London Fields, wound my way through Hackney, Barbican, into Clerkenwell, up through Islington and back. Visited some memories. I only stopped three times. It was amazing - the city offered me virtually free passage. There was one especially satisfying part of new asphalt with bright white bikes painted on near the Duke of Cambridge, satisfying until I had to stop at a temporary traffic light from top speed. Rode for about an hour, listening to the book as I went.
Nicky popped by carefully and at a distance (walking through the open house to the garden without touching anything) to grab some of the loads of bamboo for her cucumbers. It was lovely to see her, even briefly, and just to chat as she sawed a bunch to fit in her car. I hope I wasn't too wide-eyed.
I shall end with a gleeful reminder of the pleasure of cheesy polenta. I baked some red onion, zucchini, red capsicum and Cumberland sausages, and made some polenta encheesed with parmesan, and black pepper. I made a mustard-y dressing for the roast veg. It was delish. I also cracked a bottle of medium dry apple juice I found with Jenn at a fancy "farm stand" in the "country" on one of our adventures a while back; aptly named GEORGE CAVE. Also delish. I'm liking the way I'm slowly uncovering the dusty home economics and recipe knowledge base in my brain. It's been there all along, but I don't always access it because I say there isn't time or I haven't bothered or I'm not looking after myself. But I have been, and I'm enjoying it.
Stay tuned for possible further revelation and/or angst. Not today.
I've taken some advice to relax about not having a decisive plan of workattack truly and madly to my heart. Plus it's "Saturday". Woke up at around 8am and laid in. Wunderbar. I decided to get up. And, somehow, decided to do yoga in the nude and looking in a mirror. Let's just say it'd be a very different downward dog if I didn't have that gauzy curtain in my front room. It was great! I'd recommend it if you're flying solo (or have very tolerant roommates or a room of one's own in a family house).
Showered. Had breakfast. Took the sun in my front room. Popped a towel down and lay in the sun. Would love a swim.
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| La Playa |
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| Feral Nouveau |
I'd be happy if I came out of this alive with brown legs. I started listening to Disobedience by Naomi Alderman. I like the way it's holding my attention more than most audio books.
Then went back to the Jasmine of Doom and extricated another set of lumped roots. It's quite hard work, and was satisfying again, to pull the crap out of it and cut where necessary and dig out the dirt. The garden is much sunnier now.
Got a bit mansplained about gardening via email by the landlord. He doesn't know my gardening history, and cares very much about the bamboo. I idly wondered what most clashing shrubs I could possibly plant, just to be a shit. But actually, I'd love to plant a camellia or gardenia with lots of impatiens. I think that'd look good, but, it'd be one choosy bed.
I went for another ride. It was lovely. Popped east, down to London Fields, wound my way through Hackney, Barbican, into Clerkenwell, up through Islington and back. Visited some memories. I only stopped three times. It was amazing - the city offered me virtually free passage. There was one especially satisfying part of new asphalt with bright white bikes painted on near the Duke of Cambridge, satisfying until I had to stop at a temporary traffic light from top speed. Rode for about an hour, listening to the book as I went.
 |
| This is nice |
I shall end with a gleeful reminder of the pleasure of cheesy polenta. I baked some red onion, zucchini, red capsicum and Cumberland sausages, and made some polenta encheesed with parmesan, and black pepper. I made a mustard-y dressing for the roast veg. It was delish. I also cracked a bottle of medium dry apple juice I found with Jenn at a fancy "farm stand" in the "country" on one of our adventures a while back; aptly named GEORGE CAVE. Also delish. I'm liking the way I'm slowly uncovering the dusty home economics and recipe knowledge base in my brain. It's been there all along, but I don't always access it because I say there isn't time or I haven't bothered or I'm not looking after myself. But I have been, and I'm enjoying it.
Stay tuned for possible further revelation and/or angst. Not today.