In an effort not to vegetate, as well as walking into town for some shopping and book browsing (dangerous occupation), I held the plank position beloved of PIlates practitioners for one minute, performed ten press-ups and managed ten squats. I have not felt all that comfortable today though, as I have a stitch-like pain on my right side. Perhaps it comes from lounging around too much.
I was alarmed to find in Waterstone’s that the historical period that most interests me as a fictional background is already well mined by a number of authors, although, on reflection, I realised that my likely central character is very different from the heroes created by the competition. No shortage of authors to compare, which is no doubt a healthy state of affairs…ultimately.
I still do not have the MAC code that will enable me to change my ISP. I rang my present providers last night and the toads of course kept me holding for the best part of half and hour, all the time bludgeoning my increasingly cynical brain with possibly the dullest piano riff ever devised, not improved, needless to say, by constant repetition. The operative I eventually spoke to said that his company would only undertake to provide a MAC code within the five days required by the regulator, Ofcom. He stood by this even when I pointed out that my original request had met with an assurance that the code would be forthcoming in a day; he thus effectively accused a colleague of ignorance or, worse, incompetence. I could have made the observation that regulations are the refuge of scoundrels, but the move will happen when it happens and this is one battle not worth investing with too much energy.
We are assembling items to take to our daughter at university tomorrow. She has not been at all well this week, the poor love. My own introduction to university life seems to have been a lot easier in retrospect. In our social group house price stories have been replaced by accounts of how our various offspring are faring in their first extended time away from the parental nest.
Meanwhile, in France, it looks as if my brother may have found the right person to help us stop starlings falling into the stove. Will keep you posted…