I’m writing this on Sunday, but let’s face it, doesn’t every day feel a little like Sunday, now, for the obvious reasons?
As Douglas Adams once realised, we are all entering The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul together.
Oddly, and against expectations, I find it a lot easier to re-read favourite old books and attend to the large pile of new get-around-to-some-time novels – while the attraction of TV has badly waned, even as Nextflix and Prime fill up with insistent backlogs of new series that I have either enjoyed in the past or marked out as potential to-watches.
Everything from Narcos, Better Call Saul, Tales from the Loop, Hunters, The Expanse, Titans, and Ozark, they’re all sending me emailed nags and insistent reminders like some jilted partner.
Life is getting smaller, but in the world of my piled and shelved tomes, the universe is forever expanding.
Will you join me in asking your Alexa to play Bossa nova music for an hour each afternoon from 4-5pm, until you finally hallucinate you are Dean Martin sipping Sidecars at the Sands Hotel with Lauren Bacall and Sammy Davis Jr. (or vice versa)?
Small pleasures, my friends, and a simpler pared-down life until this too shall pass.
Stay well, stay healthy, and hang loose.