Running Wild
The seasonal cold is gradually fading. Though it hasn’t yet gone, it’s gone enough that we’re back to Groundhog Day. Happily, I was able to print some of the WIP and revise it. The net effect over the past couple of days has been to add around 500 words, but also to bring indications of where it is going more into focus. There are more important characters to add to the narrative, and that ought to be enough to extend this from a novella to a novel. Maybe.
I got out for a walk this evening for the first time since Tuesday. It was just along to Tesco and back, but it was nice to be out in relatively fresh air, even if it was chilly and damp. I’ll probably have another early night with a Lemsip all the same. Right now I have a mug of hot Rooibos tea and I’ll shortly squirrel myself away with a book or a magazine for a while.
Back in July (Like A Druid In The Old Days) I mused here on the ship of Theseus and continuity of consciousness as our bodies change over time. I was catching up on last week’s New Scientist at lunchtime and found something very similar there: You are not one person: Why your sense of self must be an illusion. I think it should be readable if you don’t have an account/subscription, but if not, and if you’re interested, let me know.
My continuing thoughts and best wishes to friends who are either unwell or have relatives who are unwell.
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Music: something cheery. Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel: Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)
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