Just another Maisy day, although there is cake to celebrate Ben and Sally’s wedding. I have too much cake again (this one had profiteroles on it) and get cake-stoned again.
At home I tinker with the CA site, adding little bits and tinkering with it to get it to work. Ben is adding information and pointing out coding errors (mainly bad variables) that I fix.
Back to Maisification and then back to the jam, which tonight goes on after 11:30. Grr. Or rather, Zzz-zzz-zzz. Tonight there’s another of those men who thinks he’s in charge. They count in perhaps too enthusiastically, go around telling people what the tune is, demand the end of the tune by pointing to their head and play very long solos. Years sometimes. Lots of people doing tunes that I either don’t have or that are in unusual keys or whatever, and because it’s the first week that Morley’s back it’s very noisy and I can’t hear anything.
I spend the whole day playing with code – I do some work on the CA site, and add the previous and next buttons to the diary archive. And I don’t take my pyjamas off all day. Decadence then. Decadence with coding.
My achievement for the day is to put a bit of code into the entry form for this page so that I don’t have to type all the paragraph breaks by hand. This is progress.
In the evening I try various things before just settling into more coding-type stuff, including some Cultural Amnesia action. Actually “action” might be putting it a bit strongly, but there is certainly more functionality than there was before. To the casual browser, there’s none at all, but behind the scenes there’s a very very relaxed sort of bustling going down.
So most of the day is Maisified, as usual. I slip away at 6:00 in order to recover – I’m into the sludge period of this particular project.
At home I realise that I need more fruit, and slope off to the Tesco at the E&C shopping centre for it. When I first moved in the only times it was open were 9-5:30 Monday to Saturday. I think this might be progress. With plums.
That said, there’s something quite stressful about shopping there, even at the best of times.
The nearness of Mendoza (temporal rather than geographical) drops on me out of the blue and all of a sudden, like a panther in a playful mood. Eek.
I get a letter telling me that the gym I’ve been going to for nine years (almost to the day! Well, just over – about August 1994, tedious-fact-fans) is to close at the end of the month. I feel kind of relieved, to tell the truth.
Actually it’s not the gym I joined – that was closed down three-ish years after I joined and we were all moved to directly under Waterloo East station, a space with no ventilation (not that we needed oxygen, oh, no) that I always resented, or for the last six and a half years (over twice as long as we were at the other place) at least.
The original place reopened as a gym and then closed again and has now been turned into something called “Chariots”, which claims to be open but with no hints as to what their business actually is, although I suspect that the word “salubrious” does not appear in their mission statement anywhere, even by implication.*
I go the Samye Dzong (also doomed, it appears, although on a longer timetable) but my back plays up, distracting me from my breathing. Still, a pleasant enough sit in a darkened room. As sits in darkened rooms go.
*It appears that it is a gay sauna, with a plethora of private changing rooms, so judging the accuracy of that statement is a matter for you and your prejudices.
I get up without any problems at 6:00, stretch, Sit, ablute, make breakfast, fail to practise (although I do solve a couple of coding problems) and get to work in a good mood. There must be something wrong right there.
A discovery: if I leave out the starch I can have a much larger lunch. I am scornful of ordinary laws of sweet and savoury, so my lunch is fruit salad with beans and veggie sausages. I like it, anyway. After lunch I was hoping to sit for a while, but the most appropriate room for same is set up with a transatlantic video link (long dull story), which might have made me feel a tad self-conscious, so I lie under the table and listen to the Schubert string quartet on the radio.
I am not, in fact, the only person lying under the table. Well, I’m the only person lying under this table, but there are a couple more, um, power-nappers in the office.
I get home feeling braced, though not, it must be said, braced enough to do anything useful with my time.
The Maisy calendar that I’m working on says that September 22nd marks the beginning of August and, sure enough, Autumn began today. At approximately 2:30pm, though by four o’clock and the chilly rain there was very little doubt that the seasn had changed. And only this morning I was thinking that it still seemed very warm, and wondered (as I do every year) whether Winter might decide to give it a miss this year.
The Jam’s quite fun – Mike’s playing bass, so I take the Godin nylon-string and Power Engine along and play guitar, slipping away early. Morley are back, so there are a number of singers there. The band’s sounding better than ever, though, I think.
Although there’s a little achievement in the day (I complete the Yellow Sub corrections, or at least I think I do, I’ll have to wait for someone else to tell me whether it’s really completed) most of the day is spent dithering, although the dithering with the guitar in my hand is quite fun.
At the supermarket I buy a packet of rice cakes (caramel flavour) that claim to be 5 calories a slice. I eat the whole packet, not really having got the hang of this whole “honour sufficiency” thing. In fact I nibble away at fruit and what-not all day and end up feeling both stuffed and unsatisfied, a difficult combination.
A number of very small achievements, the most of which is somehow stopping myself from leaving the flat and spending money. A bit of practise. I clear out more clothes and wash others, which is good. I also have another go at the Tai Chi … um … routine. I now have thirty seconds of material. Forty-five if I do it slowly.
I should have allowed myself a lie-in – I feel very fatigued. I leave at seven-thirty to get to the Coffee House Gig, returning at eleven forty-five.