Paul Davidson
Weeknotes 068: There’s a pair of eyes looking out from under the stairs.
The week kicked off with my second negative lateral flow test. I could join in the New Year festivities. Lǎoyé was happier than me to hear he’d have his drinking buddy. After the feast and a bath where Piglet was not allowed to get cold we ended the year on a whisky tasting session.
We didn’t see much of him on Tuesday. Periodic appearances to grouse about his “illness” and to refuse aspirin because they’d make him drowsy before returning to bed. Lǎolao giggling at his self-inflicted misery.
I was able to photo the fun because the dread lump of a phone is back from the screen repair. I took advantage of the insurance form to tick off all the broken bits and happily it works now. After a false start I might actually like it. And it takes excellent photos, which was the point of the whole exercise.
The in-ground trampoline we ordered has arrived. The box is big. I have pregret for how knackered my back is going to be come spring.
I accidentally volunteered to record a video demo for a project at work. The audience is the great and the good, so it’s detail-light but should look vaguely competent. I left my headset at work before getting Covid and the only way to get decent sound quality was to record the demo in silence and overdub narration while cuddling the laptop in a blanket cocoon.
With everyone out of lockdown we had an overdue weekend out with friends. The Chef tapas-ing with the choir crowd. Piglet eating pizza with buddies and inventing her own version of Twinkle Twinkle. One that rhymed and scanned. Me watching rugby surrounded by students and radiating middle-age back at them.
Meandering back from the pub, belly full of curry, the stars bright, I stuck Piglet’s nursery playlist on and had a sing to myself in the dark.
I’m reading Nina Simone’s Gum and Warren Ellis tries a line of argument to himself (and the reader) describing his experience as one of vulnerable pride. A perfect phrase to describe my hopes for Piglet.
Which leaves one option for my music choice. And they’re all the best. One of my life’s rules is that “Nina’s version is the best”. I think Warren would pick Mississippi Goddamn. And as much as I’d like to go with it, it has to be my Nina. The first time I ever heard her. The canonical I love you Porgy.
6 February 2022