47

Only I feel more like 74, in the sense that there is no longer any ‘big’ goal to achieve. All that’s left is the intent to make what’s left of my life at least tolerably pleasant.

Ah well, at least it finally rained yesterday. (I know this summer wasn’t exactly ideal in the Isles, but I would honestly prefer that to the two subsequent heat waves, each lasting weeks, in this fucking central European climate.) And by posting this I’ll have achieved my holiday ‘little big’ goal of managing my bookmark backlog and updating this blog.

 

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