sheldrake

I always feel if I'm going to post here it should be organised, comprehensive and informative, and provide supporting material such as photos and links of interest. This is why I post so infrequently.

So let's forget that.

Sitting on the sofa in my dim front room, listening to the Sunday morning bell tolling at Holy Trinity Church. The sound is reminiscent of a different time and place. I sort of wish I was there, wherever there is, and equally wish I could be satisfied with here. A great sense of dissatisfaction has come upon me this week, descended out of the blue. I worry I've made all the wrong choices, or just neglected to make any choices at all.

The Archive of Our Own lists Bandom as one of my fandoms, because of that story I wrote about Neil Hannon drinking gin and tonic in Rome. I suppose technically that is a band but people looking for Bandom stuff might be a bit disappointed.

I'm working this afternoon/evening. Let us not speak of this.

I have been listening to countertenors singing Purcell duets and songs. It just makes me feel better.

I have not seen any more animals that look like David Mitchell.

I made jam. Gooseberry jam. But mainly I've been too apathetic and listless and vaguely guilt-ridden to do anything.

This post has been a little more pointless that I could have wished.