Hm, wonder if I can sneak in trip to gym today in addition to cleaning some (really necessary, I find that when I know I need to do a “proper clean”, because I’m having visitors, for example, I tend to go all lax a week or so before, so that when I come to do the “proper clean”, the flat is actually in a much worse state than it would normally be in when it’s just me). Was mightily cheered yesterday in finding cycling back from work that the climb from town was much less tiresome than it has been before. Could just be a freak occurence, but also could be that gym is actually helping.
Reading Salmon of Doubt yesterday I was again hit by the incredible feeling of loss that Douglas Adams’ death last year produced. Stephen Fry says in the foreword that one of the qualities of DNA’s writing was the feeling it produces in the reader that he is talking to you and you only. That, while other people may admire him (only proper) and enjoy the books, you are the only one who really gets it. I think he is perfectly right, that is precicely the feeling you get. Or I get, anyway. Which makes his death seem so much a personal loss, rather than just a “Oh, that’s sad” kind of occurrence. It all reminds me, though, that I need to update the Adams page in the bookshelf.
Music in my head: Just Like a Woman (Dylan)