COLD THERE

There was a gentle rain falling at the time when I wished to do my laundry. Inconvenient, yes, but withall rather like English summer weather. Which before global warming was colder, greyer, wetter. Devonshire was beautiful in the grimness. Teatime, semidark because of the clouds, pipe with a Latakia mixture, sherry, and a fire in the grate. Absolutely heavenly.
Corduroy and tweeds. Boots.

Oh well, shan't do laundry today. One more day of stinkaroo.

Need to pick up my refills at the pharmacy around noon, then do some minor shopping. Also, get away from my apartment mate, who is staying home sick today and watching videos on youtube at the other end of the table, making remarks like "why does that old fart sound like a snake-oil salesman?" and "oh shit, it was already out in their time?" and similar pungent comments that indicate that it's a rich melange of good and garbage. Mental nutrition.
When I watch videos, it's mostly cooking and calligraphy.

When walking up a gentle slope near our lodgings in Exeter, it was remarkable how small the world seemed. The grey overcoast sky cut the world short at the top of the hill, there was no horizon, a limited amount of depth and space. Woodbines cigarettes bought from a local store, stuff falling out of a lowered sky. Summer vacation in England.
January in San Francisco.

The richly flavoured fried meat bun I saw in a video recently is not available here. I'll hunt up that episode again, and take notes. It looks like it bears experimentation.
It looked scrumptious and hearty.



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