Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines
A baking day at the day job. Our department lives in a 1960s tower which, in weather like this (it's still unbelievably hot in/for England), is unbearable. Our computers had all crashed too so we couldn't send emails, go on the net or perform another jolly work-related activities. After clearing through a pile of paperwork I read some notes on John Milton and then grabbed paper and pen and wrote a sonnet. It's all good practise.
Yesterday a tape of twenty songs arrived in the post. I have to learn these by the end of the month and so I made start before J returned from her nightshift. Playing the bass was the most satisfying thing I had done for days. However, cassette tapes don't have the appeal they used to. For one thing the song I'm learning might not be in the key it seems to be in as tape has a tendency to stretch. For another, I've grown used to the convenience of scrolling though playlists on the iPod and calling up exactly the song I need to be working on. Tape is feeling terribly old fashioned.
If you're reading this at work, in England, it's too hot! Go home and write a sonnet.
Yesterday a tape of twenty songs arrived in the post. I have to learn these by the end of the month and so I made start before J returned from her nightshift. Playing the bass was the most satisfying thing I had done for days. However, cassette tapes don't have the appeal they used to. For one thing the song I'm learning might not be in the key it seems to be in as tape has a tendency to stretch. For another, I've grown used to the convenience of scrolling though playlists on the iPod and calling up exactly the song I need to be working on. Tape is feeling terribly old fashioned.
If you're reading this at work, in England, it's too hot! Go home and write a sonnet.
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