Whining and dining

I've been neglecting my poor blog, haven't I?

It's just that my attention has been elsewhere and, as I mentioned in a comment on my last post, things have been a little out of balance. Nothing life-shattering or dramatic, just a little trying and draining. Witness the fact that I have to go off and do some work today and Monday just as I did on the bank holiday last weekend.

I know that a large amount of people will have to work over all the weekend, and put in far more hours than me; that such is hardly a violation of my human rights or tantamount to being thrown into a pit or a dungeon and made to eat pins while everybody else parties: it's just a little tiring when I feel that I'm denied a certain amount of respite that I could really benefit from, especially in my line of work.

Ho hum.

The other thing is that, since we've had decent weather for most of this month, I've spent as much time as possible (when you factor in the amount of energy I've had available) out on the bike, out into the rural areas. I bumped into some friends yesterday who described me as looking jaded: I said that I think a bike ride is in order, so as to de-jade me.

You know what? It worked.

Soothe sayings.

I've taken advantage of the fine weather this week. Two bike rides in as many evenings, which have been very cathartic and necessary, as well as enjoyable in their own right.

10 minutes and I'm out of the city, a further 15 minutes and it's positively quiet and rural.

Thanks to the warmth remaining well into the evening, I'm aiming to squeeze every last beneficial drop out of the good weather today. Apart from popping back in here to post this, I'm sat on the yard and soaking up the calm and the outside air, watching the sky change from evening hues to dusk, watching the shapes turn to silhouette.

It's very soothing.

I like soothing.

...

Still no words to post at the moment, so I thought I'd post a link to "Come On In My Kitchen" by Robert Johnson, since it always stops me dead in my tracks.

Recommended late night, quiet listening.

Misreading the signs

Denial Floss