never quite the same after the first time

I get up, though somewhat belatedly (does that mean anything these days with my schedule all shot away and flapping in the breeze?) with several tasks to get out of the way. broadly this means finishing up and sending the MeFiSwap CDs. before which I have to buy some double-sided sticky tape. I fantasize briefly that all card covers are held together with D.S.S.T. applied with vigour in sweatshops, but realise that this isn’t the case. The amount of discarded protective backing alone would be unfeasible.

So covers finished and disks burned and card stiffeners cut out (before when I sent them I used stiff card envelopes from the shop downstairs, but this is, of course, closed today.

There’s also a disk for Nick S. to be sent, so I have to do it today.

While I’m at it I get a call from Yuka who’s in the country temporarily, and playing tomorrow and Monday. I know that I can’t go to see her on Monday (and am certain that I can’t play for her, which is a shame) but will try to make tomorrow, if I can.

I stroll up to Trafalgar Square via Rymans for the padded envelopes and spend a long time browsing. It’s only my iron self-control that stops me from spending all my time in the local stationery shop comparing different kinds of envelope.

Sorry, have I told you about my stationery fetish?

Anyway I manage the putting-things-in-envelopes and buying stamps and posting things (various) and when I’ve deposited the envelopes in the box I discover that not only do the close at 5:30 on saturdays now, but the last collection is noonish. So it could have waited ’til monday. Except that it was important to do it before the end of the month.

After that I stroll down the Strand to buy socks (which sounds like it could be a failed song from the 30s (30s songwriter: “#Strolling down the Strand to buy socks/I’m going to take them home and put them in a…# Oh, sod it…”).

Ah the thrill of acquisition. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I came to the conclusion some time ago that were I to mysteriously become hugely rich the only rich-person’s indulgence I can think of embracing is only ever wearing new socks and throwing the old ones away. Socks are never quite the same after the first time.

Bus home and a vague evening in.