Monday, March 7

I wish I had spent the morning writing but I have actually spent it trying to navigate a road block. Something has gone wrong and I cannot work out where the problem lies. I switch to reading and then switch back to almost writing. I make some lunch and then it occurs to me.

I sit at the kitchen table eating some cheese and biscuits and staring at the snow outside. Ahhh, I think, maybe this time. I then go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and notice the little statue towering over the upturned bottle. A metaphor for something? I doubt it.

I will have a Zoom call with my brother which I will find irritating but interesting. He will explain to me how I should think about the war in Ukraine, which involves apparently recognising that everyone wants to tell me lies and I can therefore trust nobody. I will regard this as a very British response. Ah, the old equivalence fallacy, I will find myself not bothered to reply.

In the evening I will eat soup and spend an hour and a half in a Zoom meeting with Arlene and Francois, which will clear my head and leave my positively enthusiastic about tomorrow’s writing spree.