..is a strange place!
On the way to the city I listened to Rethink The World Order about the battle between liberal democracies and nationalist, populist autocracies, and a fascinating programme The Amazing Life of Olaudah
Equino which was both horrendous and heartening. Serious stuff after which the retail world seemed somewhat vacuous and meanngless.
On the way back Sibelius' Fourth Symphony, written when he had been diagnosed with a tumour on his throat, and described by the presenter as Sibelius 'clinging to cliffs and looking out on a landscape riven by despair'.
A mild altercation between the bus driver and a passenger ended with 'You are in the wrong, not me'.
I went home and watched grown men and women thwacking small balls at speeds of over one hundred miles per hour at each other accompanied by grunts, roars and what I can only describe as whinnying. They get paid thousands of pounds for this. I was riveted.
I went to bed feeling exhausted although I had barely exerted myslef, and, surprisingly, slept really well.
Bizarre, don't you think?
A sunny day (at last!), mowing the paths through the meadows and a snooze in the hammock resotred my equiliibrium,
and a British player through to the semi-finals of Wimbledon was cheering news :-)
On the way to the city I listened to Rethink The World Order about the battle between liberal democracies and nationalist, populist autocracies, and a fascinating programme The Amazing Life of Olaudah
Equino which was both horrendous and heartening. Serious stuff after which the retail world seemed somewhat vacuous and meanngless.
On the way back Sibelius' Fourth Symphony, written when he had been diagnosed with a tumour on his throat, and described by the presenter as Sibelius 'clinging to cliffs and looking out on a landscape riven by despair'.
A mild altercation between the bus driver and a passenger ended with 'You are in the wrong, not me'.
I went home and watched grown men and women thwacking small balls at speeds of over one hundred miles per hour at each other accompanied by grunts, roars and what I can only describe as whinnying. They get paid thousands of pounds for this. I was riveted.
I went to bed feeling exhausted although I had barely exerted myslef, and, surprisingly, slept really well.
Bizarre, don't you think?
A sunny day (at last!), mowing the paths through the meadows and a snooze in the hammock resotred my equiliibrium,
and a British player through to the semi-finals of Wimbledon was cheering news :-)
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