At lunchtime today I completed sixty one trips around the sun. Yay me. I was on the verge of napping when the moment came after a poor night’s sleep, but if a man can’t nap when he’s sixty one then when can he? I’d go for a walk to shake the tiredness off, but it’s been raining heavily all day.

I had a pleasant afternoon, reading, jotting down ideas that might one day crop up in stories, and listening to obscure music in the shed (Moon Duo, and Peter Bellamy, since you ask).

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At my last birthday, I couldn’t have imagined the state we find ourselves in the moment. We were away in Speyside last year, something we thought of doing again but decided against.

Just after I posted last night, the scale of the emerging cluster in Washington around 45 was becoming apparent, and word has been leaking out all day of more positive tests there. There is also considerable confusion about 45’s current state of health.

I’ve seen a lot of gleeful people effectively hoping that karma will have its revenge on him and the circle of psychopaths and misanthropes around him. While I wouldn’t mourn any of them, my preference would be that they recover in time to be humiliated on election day and to wear orange prison jumpsuits early in the new year.

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Music: An old favourite of mine, first heard on either John Peel or Andy Kershaw. I have the LP in the cupboard: I thought I had the second LP too, but I can’t find it. It may well be on cassette somewhere.

Anyway, I put this on Twitter late last night and got an immediate reply from someone saying even the sight of it gave her an earworm. 🙂  For any members of my immediate family who read this and wonder where I got the idea of making piroshki with Christmas leftovers, this song is the answer.

The Colorblind James Experience, Considering a Move to Memphis