At 7:30 (yes, sorry, that victory didn’t last long) I get up and begin the breakfast, washing the cups and thermoses (thermi?) from last night, getting the bits and pieces together and arranging them in what I hope is pleasing fashion. Fernando is first on the scene. I ask him what I’ve forgotten and he can’t identify anything, so that’s alright.
After breakfast I wash the dishes, then continue on sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor. I ought to do the AAD practise but for some reason it feels more appropriate to work at putting order into things, so I do the bathroom, remember I’ve left washing out to dry in the shed, which I retrieve, fold and put away, put new sheets on the bed and finally throw away the box that the metronomes came in a couple of weeks ago, cutting it up into little pieces and bursting the airfilled padding that came in it with Mariana. Very satisfying and therapeutic, like letting off incredibly safe fireworks.
Following this there’s some epic guitar circling, attacking zucchini and cactus. I hope that doesn’t give S?r F any experimental salad ideas.
I launch into Bagpussery for the day. As it nears lunchtime I keep an eye out on the Dining Hall and then go and sing Shipbuilding, a capella, as S?r Furones suggested I ought.
Lunch feels very good natured somehow. The meal is simultaneously a German delicacy with lentils and squird. First squird sighting so far.
Then back to Bagpuss.
There’s another Circle at five to address Blockhead. It is addressed and, possibly, posted.
My Bagpussery is interrupted by Daniel’s iBook having hideous seizures. In hopes that it’s a software problem I attempt to run Disk Utility on it, then run it as a Firewire disk from my PowerBook. This seems to work and I can run Disk Utility on it after which it seems to be fine. We go to dinner.
The Director is on. Very informative. And instructive. And funny.
A short hiatus before The Hat speaks. The Hat knows my name, and that of twenty other people.
On returning to the bedroom I find that Daniel’s iBook, which had appeared to make a full recovery, has in fact died, or is in agonising pain which I put it out of.
The day’s final circle is a very happy. An astonishing quantity of bummers, with which I am as generous as I am with my tips these days (who knew the head of Mr P.C. could be so complicated?); but happier. Blockhead may not have been as clean as usually intended, but for moments it has wings.
I fail to tell Daniel of his iBook’s death. He has to find out the hard way. My bad. We do manage to get it connected as a Firewire disk and to copy about two thirds of the data before it starts spluttering again. It will have to go to the computer doctor for revival. I remind the grieving Daniel that it is only a machine. He reminds me that it is an expensive machine. We are both right.
Now it is very late. Soon it will be later, but I shan’t know anything about that. Because I shall be asleep.