... blew me down Camden Road this morning on the way to work so I held on to a bench on the station platform, just in case. People have lost their favourite hats, I hear, and sometimes garden sheds.
A cheap bookshop in the Stratford Centre had a pile of books called Vinyl: the art of making records which were too tempting to ignore. And when I got to work Karina played some live-streamed whale singing from the mid-Atlantic and we talked about rats and budgies for a while.
I'm pausing for a moment of reflection after marking 28 pieces of work. It felt like a physical workout.
It's evening class tonight.
Foolish Girl, do you still read this blog? When are you coming to my house to play ukulele?